Thursday, 27 February 2014

Spanking Story: He Tarzan She Jane

Brenda Turpin looked up from behind her desk at the sound of a slight cough and an "Er, excuse me, I was er wondering can you help me please ?"

Brenda automatically reached up to pat her greying perm and straightened her nametag. Smiling politely as she was trained to do, the fifty year old mother of four and recently divorced from a no-good layabout whom she had discovered was dipping his wick in other wells, offered the young lady standing before her a seat. "Yes of course, how may I be of service ?" she said sweetly as she had done countless times that day, week, month and God knows how many years.

Rachel Green, a twenty-five year old brunette, single and unemployed nodded and pulled out the chair and sat wriggling for a second to get comfy and compose herself. "Hope so, I was just checking the boards for the latest vacancies and noticed one that sounds interesting. Do you have any more details ?" she asked. "Lets have a look shall we. What number was it ?"

Rachel looked down at the piece of paper where she had scribbled the vacancies registration number. "Felling 4532, the one asking for a graphic design assistant."

Keying in the number on her computer Brenda waited for the details to come up on her monitor. "Looks like the weathers turning." she smiled making small-talk.

"Hmm, think snows on the way, soon be Christmas." agreed Rachel searching her handbag for a hankie to wipe her nose blue from the cold.

"Ah, here we go. Graphic design assistant," read Brenda,"Thirty-five hours a week, some weekend work might be involved as well. Six pounds an hour. Send a covering letter and curriculm vitae to a Mr Woodward by the 20th of December. Interested ?"

Rachel nibbled her lower lip as she considered her options. Though she didn’t know why. It was fast approaching Christmas and she needed a job. She had no choice and this didn’t sound too bad. She had only one question left to ask. "Sounds fine thanks. What’s the name of the company and where is it ?"


Spanking Story: Dominus Domina

Jane was in big trouble.

As usual she'd been seeing how long she could stretch the patience of her new boyfriend by running around their new home in just a blue shirt and skimpy pair of knickers telling him that she wasn't in the mood for sex because she'd be late for work. "But I really will be honey !!" she teased as she gave him a flash of her smashing bottom as she scrambled around looking under their bed for her stockings.

That'd teach her to have another night of unbridled, garment throwing passion. Her new lover sure was a tiger between the sheets as well as between her cheeks !! "Mr Harris is a stickler for good time-keeping and I've already seen what happens when he gets angry."

Jeff grunted. "Oh sure. If that's the best you can do you deserve a sore arse twice over !!" he roared as he jumped up and chased her through to the kitchen where he caught her round the waist and hauled her cursing, squealing and laughing over his bare shoulder and marched her back into the bedroom where he threw her down over his knee.

"NO WAIT JEFF !!" she shrieked, giggling despite herself. "YOU CAN'T. I REALLY WILL BE LATE AND I'LL GET INTO TROUBLE - AGAIN !!!!"

Sensible and reasonable chap that he was - he ignored her and pulled and tugged her knickers down off her bottom and gave it a quick-fire SLAP SLAP SLAP to shut her up. Which of course was totally pointless due to the fact that he had just given her three hard spanks to her very spankable arse. Which of course was totally pointless due to the fact that he had just given her three hard spanks to her very spankable arse.

"YEOWCH - YEOWCH - YEOWCH !!" yipped Jane trying to fend him off and protect her cheeks from any more stinging ringing slaps. "You bastard !!" she growled. "You and your bloody spanking. Is that all you ever think about ?!!"

Jeff licked his lips. "WIth an arse like yours sweetheart it's hard not too. Now shut up and take your lickin like a man.'" he ordered as he easily held down his cursing and struggling girlfriend. He had to admit that the fight was half the fun of the exercise - that and watching her butt turn from a snowy white to a cherry red of course. Though he knew that this time there would be no making up straight afterwards. He sighed. Guess a spanking man can't have everything. He zipped in a few more rat-a-tat raps that had Jane flayling about wildly as she yelped and whined that he was a complete and utter prick.

"Why you - you OUCH !!" his girlfriend cursed as she twisted too and fro trying to reach back with her right hand to fend off his stinging blows which were now peppering her now tingling rump. Why couldn't he wait for later after she was finished her shift at the coffee shop ?!! "Men can be just so bloody unreasonable at times." she winced as another SPLAT echoed around their bedroom. Reaching across, she grabbed a pillow and swung it at him as hard as she could catching him on the side of his head.

In response to her attack Jeff grabbed her by her long blonde hair and gave it a painful tug. "Do that again and I'll go get thewhip. I'm not finished yet dealing with your arse. Now stick it up sweetheart so I can get a few good slaps on it. " he warned her, raising his hand again and bringing it down with a forceful....

"OWWWWWW !!!!" squealed Jane loudly, thinking it best she not wallop him with the pillow again. At the mention of the "W" word she thought submission was definitely the better part of valour at least where that bloody awful thing was concerned.

She only got a taste of THAT when she'd been REALLY bad or naughty. A session with that was not one to take lightly, although she had to admit, the sex afterwards was especially electric.


Wednesday, 26 February 2014

Spanking Story: The English French Maid

Mr Buntz slipped on his white glove and walked over to the dresser as Francesca watched him with rising trepidation.

Standing with her hands behind her back, she bit her lip as he extended a white finger and drew it oh-so slowly along the top of the wood.

There was an ominous pause as he looked at the result, inspecting it closely causing twenty-five year old Miss Francesca to swallow nervously as her employer turned and "tut tutted" as he held out his extended digit, waving it under her pert nose.

"Whats this girl?" he asked.

Francesca stared at the offending smudge going cross-eyed with fright as she felt her insides turn to jelly for she knew exactly what was coming. " dust Sir." she mumbled not able to meet his warped gaze through his thick frames.

"I KNOW its dust girl," he rumbled threateningly. "I want you to tell me WHAT ITS DOING THERE?!!" he finished, his voice rising as he loomed over her as she stood fidgetting in her "quaint" maid's uniform.

"Er, Sir." she replied lamely, realising she was in for an uncomfortable evening judging by the rising colour of Mr Buntz's purplish face and the wriggly lines adorning his furrowed forehead.

"Dunno, DUNNO?!" he shouted going potty. "What sort of answer is that you silly girl?" he thundered as he quickly stripped off the offending glove with a snort of disgust and tossed it onto the bed.

Acting like an apoplectic Headmaster, he puffed himself up and pointed ominously towards the door. "You know the rules my girl. Get your fat arse down to my office and bring back my things. Right now do you hear me!!" he ordered grasping her by her bare arm, spinning her around and giving her short-skirted bum a hefty wallop to send her on her way with an "Owch..yes Sir!!" as she stumbled out of the room in her high-heels.

Oh golly gosh gumdrops.

Her big bum in for it now!!


Spanking Story: FRIENDS 3


Part 1.

In Phoebe's apartment Joey was being serious.

"But I just don't get it Pheebs. How could they just like, break up?!" He shook his head as he and Phoebe sat together on her sofa devouring their way through an express espresso frisbee sized with everything pan-pizza. "I mean, this is Rachel and Ross we're talking about here. They were meant to be together. Like Fred and Wilma. Like Starsky and Hutch. I just don't get it. I wonder what the problem was?" he frowned.

This was not good. He was the sort of guy who liked everything in his life to run smoothly and that included his friend's personal relationships.

Phoebe Boufette licked her lips then her fingers clean, one at a time. "Sex."

"Huh?" Joey wore an expression that was like a blank canvas. Sex? No way could it be that. After all, he was an expert in such things and he would of known if it was something like that. His brow furrowed for it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't had a girlfriend in like, a whole month. Four weeks?!! He really needed to get back into the ballgame as soon as possible. He, Joey Tribbiani needed to keep his well oiled machine - well oiled. He wondered if that cute sales assistant at that big department store on Upper West Side was still available for a date. He figured he still had her phone number lying around his apartment - somewhere.

Phoebe got up from the sofa and took the pizza box to the waste disposal before raiding the fridge. Of course it was sex. It was ALWAYS sex. Boy, people can be so in denial sometimes. She came back to sit beside Joey and handed him a cool beer. He still had that cute "hello…anyone home?" expression on his face. Joey, good old non-complicated Joey. "Yes Joey, sex." she said firmly again. "How did all your relationships break up?"

Joey raised a characteristic eyebrow at that question. That one was a bit too near the knuckle for comfort. His eyebrow got higher as he went mentally through the reasons for all those he could remember. Ding ding. "Er, ah." he muttered sheepishly, unable to meet her knowing gaze. "Sex too I guess."

"See. You can have the IQ of the brainiest person that ever lived but it all comes down to how much or how little you're getting. Simple huh?" she smiled. "I'm a people person. I really should have been a psychiatrist like Dr Ruth. I am the knower of and solution to like all of the worlds' problems."

But Joey was still frowning. "Ok so it's like sex k." he said. "But this is Rachel we're talking about here Pheebs. We are talking about a woman who put the x in porn here." His eyes were wide open and his head was nodding in that determined way he had as if to emphasis his point - no matter how dumb it was. He paused for a second and frowned like he had thought of something really - really - mind bogglingly terrible. "You don't think that Ross got suddenly gay do you?" he blurted out.

Phoebe shrugged as she sipped her beer. She'd noticed lately how Joey had always somehow managed to engineer Rachel into his every conversation. "Ross is too much of the drama queen to be gay, though he does seem to be developing a queer taste for sleeveless sweaters and watching QVC lately. OO OO hey, if he is really going gay do you think he would help me with my décor?" she asked brightly.


It was Wednesday and Rachel was at work sitting behind her plush desk on whose top sat a pile of paperwork >----------< this high. But her mind was on anything but her work. It had been a week since she and Ross had split up. The reason for breaking up was something they had seen coming from a long way off. It had been a long fuse on a slow burn. Despite everything, the companionship, good sex (but not great - her fault?) and the spanking it had somehow gone pear shaped.

She swizzled around in her chair until she was looking out of her office window at the cityscape below. Even despite the spanking. So much for the others always telling them their relationship "ever since high school was meant to be". She felt a deep sadness in her heart for she had discovered how much Ross had wanted her back then. But times moves on and people change. Even true love can fade - despite the spanking.

She lifted a hand and rubbed her temple. Things had got complicated real fast. Since when did spanking go to the top of her list of most important things in a relationship? Ever since the first time he slapped her big fat Greek ass. But in reality, the reason was sadly so simple. The thrill had gone. The zip, zing, pizzaz - whatever, had gone. Work had contributed too she realised. It had been much easier when she worked as a waitress in Central Perk just serving coffee. But through circumstance, she had moved up in the world to land her dream job. He had his professional life and she had hers. They had drifted apart and the spark just wasn't there anymore.

Even despite the spanking. The spanking. She sighed. Now that was one thing she would really, really miss. What would the next man in her life think of her if on their first date she asked him "Do you spank?" She made a face. That would never EVER happen for there was no way she could be so bold. It was all his fault. "Damn you Ross Geller." she whispered out loud. "Why did you have to spank my ass?" She got to her feet and rested her head against the glass looking down at the worker ants far below. Sighing, a face suddenly appeared into her consciousness - someone totally unexpected at that moment.

She smiled as the face asked her. "Yo Rach, how's your ass doin' ?"


Monday, 24 February 2014

Spanking Story: The Spanking Agency 3

Catherine Turner clicked open the door and stared upwards.

"Oh, heck !" she muttered between her perfect teeth. Why did the office have to be on the first flipping floor ? Climbing Mount Everest would be easier AND less painful.

Best get on.




"Hmmmm ahhhh."

With each stair taken, her little yelps of distress got louder and louder. Cathy, wincing with pain shook her pretty red head. "All because some daft bugger wanted to cane a nun."


Dolly looked up from her desk as the door to the office opened and in walked, rather stiffly the youngest member of the Agency.

Catherine Turner had barely turned eighteen when she had presented herself with the nine other ladies for the interview.

Even Molly was surprised at the young looking woman. "Are you sure you're eighteen?" she had asked.

"Cross my heart Miss Malone." she had replied with wide eyed innocence. As things turned out, Cathy Turner was a seasoned pro of the red bummed brigade.

Dolly smiled with amusement at the memory. She got to her feet and came around her desk as the younger woman stood in the middle of the floor with an "I'm in agony.!!" grimace on her screwed up face. Dolly wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

Cathy nodded. "Ooooh Dolly, I would be if I had someone else's bum...cor mine doesn't half sting!" she whistled in reply.

Dolly laughed. "Rather you than me flower. Here sit yourself down and I'll make us a nice cup of tea, hmmm"

Cathy shook her head, her red shoulder length hair flying. "Sit, you must be joking Dolly!!" she grunted, wobbling stiffly to the small couch in the corner. "Not with the state of my arse, ....bloody cane!!"

Dolly smiled at her friends childish petulance. All show of course. Dolly knew all about Miss Turner's little quirks and kinks."Well dear, you did say you liked to take a caning didn't you hmmm?"

Cathy turned and slowly settled her bum on the soft seat. "OW. Flipping OW, I bet that silly bugger has drawn blood, I tell you Dolly he didn't half lay into my arse. OW hmmmmm, ahhh, that's better. Just throbbing a bit now."

Dolly giggled at the comical sight of the jack-in-the-box easing her arse down on the padded couch like an aeroplane having a bumpy landing. Serves her right!! Dolly poured them both a hot cup of tea and brought it over to where Cathy sat still wincing at the sting. "So, come on then, tell your Auntie Dolly all about it, I want every juicy detail mind." grinned Dolly over the rim of her cup.

Cathy reached forward and picked up her cup from the coffee-table. "Nosey," she smiled, but continued on. "Well I guess it went like this......"


Spanking Story: Walloping Pancake Sally

"I pancake REAL good."

Johnny looked at his work colleague. "You what ?" he asked surprised.

"Pancake," replied Sally without missing a beat. "You know, spanking or whatever. My arse pancakes real good. Ask everyone who's had a go at it."

Somehow Johnny got the impression that her idea of "everyone" was different from his. In the office, shop floor packer Sally had what was politely termed as a "reputation" and she didn't give jack shit who knew about it. A real free spirit was Sally. She looked it as well, 26, single, well-off, dammed good looking in a sluttish type of way and who lived life not only to the limit but beyond it by all accounts.

So here he sat listening to her during mid-morning break as she educated him to the joys of spanking and spin-offs therein. The image of her bending over their Supervisors desk while he lashed seven shades of shit out of her backside brought a wry smile to his face. Mr Butterworth, you kinky bastard. Does your wife know ?

He really doubted that somehow.

He wondered how many of the lads in this place had "had a go" at her rear end. He sure as fuck hadn't. He wondered if he should ask. Maybe if he asked her politely, "Sally, would you do me the honour of letting me spank your big fat arse please. Pretty please ?", she would let him. The thought was the far side of insane before he'd even thought it. He wouldn't have the nerve or balls to ask her in a million years. Still, this particular topic of conversation sure as hell had livened up what would otherwise have been 15 minutes of sheer boredom before she went back to the daily grind of packing toilet rolls and womens "things" and he back to his mundane existence in accounts.

Oblivious of his thoughts Sally continued on her way... "I was born with a big bum I reckon. Some girls are aren't they ?" she said brightly. Johnny nodded sagely as if he knew what the fuck he was talking about. "Its funny isn't it, I never knew I was into getting my arse smacked until someone asked me if he could do it and would I let him. Maybe I've always been into it. My dad used to spank me when I was growing up when I got into trouble. I used to scream my bloody head off. He worked at the Shipyards on the Tyne did my dad and he had hands like a bloody gorilla's. Huge they were and calloused !! Geez, his spankings really hurt they did. He never spanked me when I was little though...only started when I was 12 or so and was going to High School. I remember once when my mam caught me smoking with some friends and told him he went apeshit and grabbed me and bent me over the arm of the settee and took off his belt and gave me a right thrashing over my jeans. I was sore for a week and could hardly sit still in class !!" Sally made a face. "Funny how I quite enjoy it now isn't it Johnny after all these years ?" she mused as she smiled at the tab in her hand.

"Uhuh. "said Johnny. "Any idea why ?"

Sally blew a smoke ring thoughtfully. "Hmmmm, dunno really. Maybe its the thrill. Sort of sexy naughty in a being a bad girl again way. I really like being made to take my knickers down knowing that my bums going to hurt for a bit later. I like the sting."

"Sting ?"

"Uhuh, the sting. After the pain goes away my arse only stings a bit. Its quite nice really. Its sort of a warm glow like when you eat a hot pepper and it spreads all over." she explained, moving her hands from her crotch over her belly to her impressive bust. Johnny just swallowed hard.

"What do you prefer ?" he asked.

"What ?"

Johnny rested his elbows on the table and propped his chin in his hands. "Well, what I mean is. Do you prefer a straight over the knee spanking or do you like things used on you ?" An honest question he thought.

Sally pursed her lips, considering. "Erm...well, I've had a belt used on my bum. Oh, and a strap thingy too, one boyfriend even used a ruler on it !! " she laughed, giggling behind her hands. "What else ? Oh....and my ex-french teacher sneaked his school cane home one night and gave me twelve licks with that. Oooooo that brought tears to my eyes I can tell you !!!"

Johnny smiled, daydreamingly. Downstairs he had a raging poker that he knew he was going to have for the rest of the dammed day. What he needed was a girlfriend not another night with slow hand luke. "Well, which is it then ?" he asked again.

"Oh, well, has to be a good old fashioned over the knee spanking for me Johnny. I just luv it, luv it, luv it !! Thats how I learned that my bum pancakes good." she replied, glancing up at the clock. Johnny noticed the look and sighed that the moment would soon be lost. Typical, bloody typical. Good old Johnny, the firms resident agony aunt. Got a problem ? Want to talk about it with someone you can trust ? Johnny's your man. He'll never take advantage of all your guilty secrets. He's a man of honour and principle is our Johnny. Your mother would even like him. He's a girls best friend.

"I've never done it. " he thought depressively. Except it wasn't a thought. It should of been - honest, but it kind of slipped out in his abject desperation. The weary words of a has been, except he hadn't even aspired to the "has" bit yet, more like "please God give me a fucking break".

He hadn't even realised he'd said anything until he saw Sally staring at him with surprise. "You haven't ?" she blurted out as if it was the most astonishing thing she'd ever heard.

"Wh..what ?" he gasped, looking uncomfortable and as if he wanted to run for the hills. What had he said ?!! !!

"Spanked anyone." said Sally sympathetically. "Not even a girlfriend ?" she asked. What sort of girlfriend wouldn't put her arse at her man's disposal ? Was Johnny dating a nun ?

He could see the pity written all over her face and he shrivelled a little more inside. Girlfriend ? As if only. Embarrassed, Johnny stood up and went to the sink to rinse his coffee cup then get the hell out of Dodge asap. ", not really. Anyhow, never occurred me to ask if I could I er guess." he muttered over his shoulder. Not so much a little white lie as a great big black fucker !! He couldn't get back to work fast enough. Knowing his luck, that little tid-bit of information would be all round the place within the hour. Sally, bless her black nylon stockings and suspenders, was not one known to keep secrets to herself as he could tell from past experiences. A conquest is meant to be shared was her motto. Many's the time he'd walked past the "group girlie huddle" next to the water dispenser and he could feel their eyes on him as they'd watch him go by and giggle something hilarious or other about his lack of pokerbility. Probably ended with the obvious query "virgin ?" Ah well. Least the pay was decent. He jumped suddenly when he felt Sally's lips close to his ear. He was so surprised he couldn't move as he felt her hands wrap round his waist.

"Well then Johnny sweetie, I think I can help you out there don't you ?"


Spanking Story: Her Dishonest Bottom

It is not a well known fact that the Head of Security had eyes in the back of his head and could spot a thief a mile off. But he did, which at that moment was just as well as he watched the young lady emerge from the changing rooms, glance nervously around and head quickly for the store exit.

Mumbling into his radio, he set off to intercept his prey who was clutching a leather shoulder bag to her chest before she could make good her escape.

"Got you..." he smiled.


Lucile Lips looked at Ivor Biggun the store detective with a questioning "Well...where is it ?" glance as the young lady emptied her bag on the table in front of them.

But to her Security Guards surprise and dismay there was nothing - least nothing stolen he could see. Ivor blinked, removed his cap and scratched his bald pate in puzzlement. The girl, a slip of a thing of about twenty-three with mousey shoulder length hair, turned and looked at him smuggly as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Ivor looked to his Supervisor and spread his hands helplessly. He was positive he'd seen her go into the changing room carrying something. "I know what I saw." he said determinedly. "Why else would she have gone into the changing rooms?" he challenged looking at his boss.

Miss Lips, a sort of attractive in a plain sort of way beehived battleaxe of thirty plus turned to the girl and peered at her over the rim of her spectacles. That was a good point made by her Head of Security. Why had she gone into the changing rooms ?

The girl chewed her gum harder and blew a bubble. "I was lookin' for the loo wasn't I ?" she retorted sharply. "I've done nowt wrong. N'if you can't prove it you can't keep me here. I've a good mind to go get my dad. He'd sort you out. He knows all about the law. He'd sue !!"

Ivor grunted. Like father like daughter obviously. Why wasn't that a surprise he thought disgustedly as he eyed her up and down as she stood before him. Must be one helluva family. Pity, she was a bonny wee thing and had a figure to match judging by the short skirt she was wearing "Careful Ivor." he thought to himself, "You're not only sounding twenty years older than her but twenty years stupider as well."

Realising the situation was getting out of control his boss raised a placating hand. "Now, now, there's no need for that is there Miss...Miss ?"

The girl picked up her mascara and lipstick. Flipping open her compact she stared at them both over the mirror. "Oh no you don't. I'm not telling you my name. I'm not that stupid. You'd run a check on me. I know all your tricks I do. Maybe I should call the Police and tell them that Lurch here got me in here under false pretences and frisked me for a quick thrill hmmm ?" she sneered." A bit of bad publicity for your store wouldn't go down to well on the front page of the local paper now would it ?" she suggested as she ran the lipstick over her each lip.

"Why that stuck up conniving little cow !!" raged Ivor to himself. Given half the chance he'd teach her a thing or two about manners. She wouldn't be so smug then by God. But he knew he was in a pickle. He'd practically frog marched her through the store holding her by the arm as the other shoppers stopped and watched. He'd get the sack he was sure of it. But he could of sworn.....

"Perhap's we can come to some sort of er arrangement then ?" suggested the older woman, trying to defuse the situation.

The girl paused in her preening. "Arrangement. Like wot ?"

Lucile Lips was thinking on her feet. "Maybe we could give you some know for discounts."

The girl thought for a second and shook her head. "Hmmmmmmmm nope. I want cash."

The Supervisor blinked. "Cash ? Oh, I'm not sure I'm allowed much ?"

The girl snapped her compact closed. "A hundred."

"What ?!!" blurted out Lucile and Ivor togther.

The girl just smiled and with the index finger of her right hand dialled an imaginary phone. "Ring, ring.....hello is that the Police ?". At the helpless look on the other two faces she started to laugh. This was better than shoplifting any day !!

Sunday, 23 February 2014

Spanking Story: STAR TREK - To Boldly Spank Where No Spanker Has Spanked Before

Somewhere in the 23rd century.

Space the final frontier: “Captains Log star-date 424.6 The Enterprise is currently en route to Starbase 12 for some much needed routine maintenance after escorting the Romulan freighter “Ptankar” and its cargo to the eighth moon of the planet G547-T. Once we reach our destination all personnel and their families will be allowed seven solar days shore leave. Core crew will stay on board to check ship systems and undertake any running repairs as per requirements for our next assignment. Picard out.”

1: A figment of the imagination.

Captain Jean Luc Picard took a deep breath and drew himself up straight as he expanded his lungs feeling the satisfying flexing of his rib-cage. At that precise moment in time he was in the Medical Bay sitting on one of Doctor Crushers medi-vac recliners. He had removed his Starfleet uniform and was dressed in casual black trousers and white shirt as he watched the ships Doctor run her portable medical scanner over his chest. He raised an eye-brow. “If you dont hurry up I shall turn as blue as a Kaylek.” he muttered as she smiled when her instrument finally beeped that it was done. “Well Doctor.” he asked. “Am I as fit as the fiddle I told you I was?”

Doctor Beverley Crusher, a 40 something shapely brunette with a thorough bedside manner looked up at her superior officer. Picard was staring at her in that slightly authoritative way he had but a look that was tinged with mild amusement too. She kept him dancing a moment longer as she slipped the scanner back into its case. “Im happy to say your fiddle is in fine working order Captain.” she nodded with satisfaction.

Picard blew out his cheeks and was already getting to his feet. “Good, then Ill return to the bridge.”

Beverley laid a hand on his chest. “But, thats not to say a little r and r wouldnt do you good either Jean Luc. In fact, being chief medical officer on this ship I could order you to take a break.” she smiled as she saw him frown as he reached for his jacket.

As he shrugged himself into it he turned to her. “Ah, now Beverley, you know I would like nothing more than to head down planet side with the rest of the crew and relax but I need to be here to ahh keep an eye on things.” he paused and stood with his hands on his hips. “Besides, forget about me. Why are you still on board?”

He tried to look stern but gave up and started to laugh as Dr Crusher tried to think of a suitable reply but gave up and swatted him on the arm as she turned to check the bio scan results that blinked and throbbed on an overhead zero x-display. He heard her laugh. “Hey stop that, in here I give the orders remember.”

Picard held his hands up as his eyes suddenly fell onto his Doctors rather attractive rear that was enticingly outlined in all its voluptuous glory through her blue medic smock. It was definitely his favourite feature of her. Not that she knew about his admiration of said region of course to begin with. Ship gossip gossip which inevitably reached to the top was that the glamorous Doctor was seeing no one in particular. Maybe that stuffy Ambassador whatshisname had found her too hard and hot to handle. That was no real surprise he thought. He knew she was a fiercely independent and determined woman. But that posed an interesting question and possible proposition for him now that he was also currently available too. What was that 20th century saying again? Faint heart never won fair maid. No doubt that included what lay beneath her smock. He stood fastening his top button when he suddenly broke into a wide smile. “Actually Beverley.” he grinned. “Ive just had a rather inspired idea for both of us.”


Spanking Story: Gladys Pew District Nurse

Authors Note: From recollection this is the second story I ever wrote - Coal Miners Wife being the first- and I was just beginning to discover my own sense of rhythm for the type of spanking fiction I wanted to write. I have always enjoyed "old fashioned" belt and braces erotica born from everyday natural surroundings with stories about real people in real situations. Gladys Pew is an "old fashioned" romantic spanking story and I hope you enjoy reading it. - Ian.


It was the 22nd of December in the year of our Lord 1951 and in the small Northumbrian village of Rothbury, Gladys Pew drew back her curtains and gazed out into the world at the dawn of a new day. The hills in the distance lay sprinkled with a dusting of white bearing witness to the snowfall during the wee hours.

"Oh bugger !!" groaned Gladys realising that her last day at work before the Christmas break was going to be an uphill (literally!!) struggle. Turning, her breath huffing and chuffing around her like a steam train, she padded in her nightie back to the bed.

"7.15" she muttered to no-one in particular before plonking herself down and finishing her first cup of tea of the day.

Through the steam she looked around her bedroom contemplating her life and where she was at as she approached the turn of the year. On the bedside table, a shaft of morning sunlight glinting on the glass was a picture of her and her husband in bygone and happier days.

"Oh George...." she heaved a great big sigh as she thought of her husband who had passed on not 7 years ago. Reaching over, she traced a finger over his fading form wishing with all her heart that...

"Silly sausage." she chided herself. "No use thinking like that, he'd call me a daft old biddy if he was here.." she smiled at his memory.


A long time ago...

Gladys Pipkin had married George Pew in 1930, she was 20 and he 27, they had moved from Acton, London up to Northumberland so he could find work in the big smelting and steelmaking yards by the North East coast.

They had saved and bought a house in the small picturesque village of Rothbury, Willow Way number 56. It had 2 bedrooms, a sizeable kitchen, garden and an indoor loo, but to Gladys it was the view from her window which was special, before her lay the rolling hills of dales and valleys of an unspoilt countryside.

But darker times lay ahead...... George had received his call up papers during the spring of 41 and had decided to join the army as part of a mechanized tank battalion. During the campaign through the lowlands of Scandinavia in 1944 he had been killed in action....

It wasn't until 3 months later that the postman delivered the telegram.


Life moves on..... Gladys Pew was now 41, sported an hour glass figure, a welter of dark brown curls cascading past her shoulder and through hard study worked at the local surgery on the high street as resident District Nurse, her duties were to assist Dr Donkin in the day to day running of the practise and visit all the elderly patients who were unable or unwilling to travel into the village for treatment.

She was much loved by the people of Rothbury who would wave and shout a cheery hello whenever she cycled past resplendent in her blue uniform.

Finishing her cuppa she got up and went to her dresser where she pulled out some clean underwear..

"Hmmm..."she thought looking out at the wintry scene, "I'd best pull on some woolies..."

Dressing quickly, she reached up and pulled on her nurses uniform over her blouse, tugging her french bloomers in place, she fastened the clasps on the seat before hopping around dragging on a pair of dark woolly tights and with a final flourish slipping on black laced sensible shoes.

Admiring herself in the mirror, she bobbed her head slightly left then right, and finally with a "'ll do!!" she headed downstairs grabbing her bonnet on the way out.


Spanking Story: Miss White Miss Red Miss Black and Me

Part 1: A darker shade of white.

The problem with living on the edge of temptation all the time is knowing that whilst you may have an itch you're unable to scratch due to circumstance there's always that faint possibility - or wishful hope - that suddenly somewhere one day you may find someone who is willing to do it for you. If you're prepared to step off the edge that is....

Their names aren't important. Not in this context anyway. I'll just call them Miss White, Miss Red and Miss Black.


Let's begin at the top. Dept. Sup. Miss White is a woman of the world. Nobody can teach her anything. She knows it all. When she wants something she makes it as plain as day she'd better get it. Hot as hell one minute, cold as ice the other. Irrational hormone imbalance doesn't cover it. Great White's have nothing on her. The first of the great female predators that stalk the office where I work. She can smell blood in the water a mile off. She looks the business too. Mid-thirties, she's a bleached bottled blonde who exudes confidence in her own ability and who has a fetish for shoulder pads and power dressing minus the slack's and makes sure everyone under her know she's la femme fatale - the boss and who doesn't take any crapola from anyone. Yes Miss - No Miss.

Miss Red is a different bitch all together. Early twenties, dexterous to the point of sublimely erotic, this woman knows how to dance over a keyboard and make small-talk at the same time like no one's business. An pleasant enough up-market plain jane with a thing for simple blouse, fiery skirts and matching stockings she knows her place and her limit's but that doesn't stop her wandering eye. If only her old man knew. If he doesn't he's a bigger idiot than what I take him for. A woman like that need's a good seeing to every day - and I'm not talking about spanking her hot little arse either.

Last but not least is Miss Black. Now Miss Black was born to be writ large about. A vamperella if ever there was one with her long midnight mane she's not only Black by name but also black by look. Same mid-age range as Miss Red, she can stop a bunch of raving madmen at 10 paces with a mere look of disapproval. This woman exudes sex appeal and flaunts it like the showbiz slut she thinks she is. Miss Black is also the one who orders lunch.

So there you go. As you can tell, working in a space of about 15 metres by 10 isn't exactly easy for a frustrated spanking sophisticate such as yours truly for they've all got fantastic arses and know it. Like I said, temptation - what a bastard. Each woman knows what she's got and knows exactly how to use it. There's Miss White with her "both hands on the table in front of you as she leans suggestively forward" - just enough to show off some serious cleavage along with her bad girl crucifix when she's chewing you out. Miss Red's innocent finger to the lips "Oh whoops, look what I've dropped. Aren't I clumsy ?! I'll just make sure I bend right over in front of you to pick it up" - to give you an eye-level view of her pair of firm taut buttocks that have just enough daylight between them to get your blood and testosterone racing. Then there's Miss Black's "Basic Instinct" manoeuvre. A classic ensnared pussy parade behind a dimorphic cotton screen. No feeding allowed for this feline or you'll get a nasty surprise. The kind that makes sane men break out in cold sweats.

Somehow this battle of the sexes isn't such a fair fight anymore. Whatever happened to male hunting female ? Is it me or did the pursuit of love, life and happiness suddenly get turned arse over tit overnight ? Guess that what happens when you've been out of the big game loop for so long. Women got wise and wiser. They can probably spot a spanking man a mile off as well. Maybe it's a sixth sense they have. Maybe they already have me figured out. They say never judge a book by it's cover. If that's the case then I'm the exception to that rule. My whole persona must be writ large across my forehead like some sexual tattoo as I sit there watching their blatant excessive expressive rhythmic symphonic cheek movements when they walk past you knowing that your eyes are glued to their bodies like they're on some sort of public peepshow catwalk for fat arsed lovers. On any given monday, showing off a new outfit they'll ask me innocently "Does my bum look big in this Ian ?" when they already know the answer. As a spanking man, how could I say "Oh God yes. Your fat arse looks far too big in that toots." ? It doesn't get any easier. The sheer frustrated thrill of being stood there feeling like a spare prick at an orgy as they discuss "women's" things around the water tower and how their "boyfriend's, one night fling's, husband's ect" couldn't feel their way out of a wet paper bag and what they wanted was someone who really knew how to handle a woman. With knowing smile's and glance's they know what they're doing to me. Step off the edge and let's play honey.

One day, one gloriously outrageous fucking day I'm going to give Miss White, Miss Red and Miss Black each a spanking to end all spankings. I swear - even if it's only in my mind. Temptation - what a bastard.


Spanking Story: Last Train to Spanksville

The Amtrak pulled into the station and announced its arrival with a bellow of compressed steam as it came to a halt and the waiting passengers began to board.

Overhead the sky was winter blue and the air was crisp as I picked up my bag and stepped up onto and into the carriage and made my way to a free seat. At that time of the evening there were few people travelling so there was only a smattering of fellow travellers dotted here and there in my carriage making the journey a pleasant and quiet one as I opened my pack and took out a book to read to while away the miles.

Just as the train was due to leave there was flurry of activity as a young man and woman ran past my window and got on board with moments to spare as the guardsman blew his whistle allowing the train to depart on schedule.

As the locomotive cranked into gear, I glanced up and smiled as they stumbled awkwardly towards the double-facing seat behind me. "That was close." I said with a smile to the man who was trying to shove his luggage into the overhead rack. He was tall, dark, suntanned and looked about 20 - a regular jock.

He gave me a brief nod and blew out his cheeks. "Yeah. Real rush." he replied as he slid into his seat as his companion stared at him with a frown on her pretty face. And she was pretty. A shapely lass who looked about a year younger than him with a shock of auburn curly hair that framed her expressive features and which turned to a deep blood red as the shafts of the late evening sun fell across it. She was wearing a denim shirt under a black jacket and a full length crumpled flower-power pleated skirt from where a pair of well worn sneakers peaked. Aye, definitely pretty in my book. She was still trying to shove her pack into the rack above her head with a strength born of frustration and anger. Her boyfriend - or whatever - was sat chin in hand staring out of the window ignoring her.

Ever the gentleman - even at 38 and with two failed marriages behind me - I got to my feet and went to stand next to her. Her fragrance wafted around me like a warm sea breeze as I said to her "Here, let me give you a hand with that."

She gave me a grateful smile. "Thank you. It's nice to see someone willing to help." she said, a shadow crossing over her face as she glanced at the man who gave a snort of disdain and continued to stare out of the window as the panorama of concrete slowly gave way to a sea of green fields swaying hypnotically in the breeze. Her eyes were electro glide blue and she had a faint spray of freckles that crossed the bridge of her nose I noticed as she let me take her bag.

"Not at all. My pleasure." I said as I managed to ease her pack into the small space. "I don't think these things were designed for backpackers." Once it was secure I retook my seat and picked up my book. The girl was still fussing around and bent slightly forward adjusting the flow of her full skirt thus revealing a very shapely backside that looked fuller than I would have imagined. Not that having a full feminine backside was a cross to bear of course. Far from it. The cross to bear was my own for the delights and mysteries of the female rear had always blessed - or cursed me for as long since I could remember. Two failed marriages could attest to that I thought ruefully.

She finally took her seat opposite her boyfriend and I settled back and let the rhythmic clickety clack of the railroad track wash away my cares as the train headed west into a deep red sunset.

Spanking Story: Naughty Nurses in Trouble

The matron looked at three very sorry looking first year nurses standing in front of her all staring at their feet. They were in big trouble.

Matron folded her arms over her formidable bust and read them the riot act - or at least what happened to naughty nurses who got into big trouble. "You want to thank your lucky stars you aren't on wards 1 to 3 for you'd of been suspended on half pay and facing a dressing down before the Undue Procedure Board. And you should know by now that if they find you all guilty you'll be out on your ear sharpish. But on this ward we do things differently. Dr Johnstone and I handle all matters regarding disciplining members of staff. Especially first year students who may of made a genuine mistake. But being inexperienced is no excuse. Not in somewhere like a hospital where there can be serious consequences when something goes wrong. After much discussion we've come to the conclusion this is the best solution to such matters. " Matron looked at each of them in turn. "Do you understand ?"

Student Nurses Gemma, Betty and Daisy all nodded their heads quickly. They'd all come to realise that Matron was not a lady to suffer silly little girls gladly. And they had all been very silly 17 year old girls. "Yes Matron." they chirped.

Satisfied, Matron nodded. "Right then. Report to Dr Johnstone at the end of your shift."

The three nurses glanced at one another. They knew exactly what that meant. The other student nurses in years 2 and 3 had told them what happened when they had to go visit Dr Johnstone and Matron Moonie after hours. There was much nervous nodding and biting of lower lips as well as much anticipation round their bottom regions. Matron dismissed them to return to their duties.

They turned and were just about to leave when Matron said suddenly. "Oh, and another thing." she stated matter of factly. "Woolly stockings - NO TIGHTS OR ELSE." With that the formidable Matron Moonie returned to stalking her ward.


Friday, 21 February 2014

Spanking Story: Dr George's Spanking Therapy

In a downtown clinic a bespectacled Dr George was in his morning surgery nodding understandingly as he sat behind his desk listening to his new patient, Tabitha Lansing – a strikingly raven haired, shapely and vivacious 45 year old divorcee with 3 grown up boys, trying to put into words 30 years of suppressed sexual frustration.

She was perched rather attractively on the edge of a black leather sofa in front of the window through which shafts of sunlight filtered through the blinds. “Well Doctor George,” she began slowly. “It’s kind of, you know, embarrassing to talk about – even to someone as qualified as yourself.”

Dr George, who bore an uncanny likeness to Woody Allen, smiled reassuringly at the nervous woman. “Nonsense Mrs Lansing,” he began.

“OH please call me Tammy, Dr George.” she interjected. “No need for formalities.”

“Tammy it is then.” he agreed as he took down notes. “As for being embarrassed, well, believe you me, I’ve just about seen and heard everything about the human condition that a man in my profession can hear. Being embarrassed is only a problem if you let it be. As this is our first meeting, think of it as your first psychological barrier to get over. So take a deep breath Tammy and just let it all come out. You’ll feel quite relieved afterwards. Light headed almost. That’s a promise.”

Tammy really wondered if he had seen and heard it all. Was her “problem” a common one? She doubted it. In all her years, she’d never met anyone who bore the slightest hint of a “problem” like hers as she was growing up through college, work and her, eventually failed, marriage. But then again, her condition wasn’t something you brought up in idle chit-chat during a girls get together at the local supermarket or wherever.

It had been her divorce that had been the final straw. She needed to talk to someone – anyone – about her condition before she went crazy. It was much worse than an itch you couldn’t scratch! In this case, it wasn’t so much an itch that was bothering her more a good slap.

She put her hands on her cheeks trying to hide her blush. “Oh my, this IS so embarrassing Dr George.” she laughed. “But here goes.” She composed herself. “Ever since I can remember I’ve always had an interest in..” Tammy paused, looked down at her lap where she was twiddling her thumbs nervously. “…my bottom.”

Dr George felt his eyebrows rise despite himself. “Your bottom?”

Spanking Story: Victorian Upstairs Downstairs

Trudging through the ankle deep snow towards the bottom of the garden, Tess O'Fee grumbled her discontent as she reached the spartan hedge and began to pluck some choice branches before pulling out a piece of twine to tie them together in a bundle.

Making her way back inside the manor-house she tried to make some sense of what had transpired and what was, to her rising alarm, about to happen to her rather full and bewitching bottom..


"Tess, his Lordship wants ter see you sharpish. Leave the dustin' and go and see what he wants and be quick about it cos ye've got to go into town to the market to get the duck fer their dinner." called Mrs Mopp from the top of the kitchen stairs as the young miss scrubbed and polished the pots and pans.

Smoothing down her black skirts hidden beneath her white apron, Tess reached up to fiddle with her cap making sure it sat atop her head neat and tidy for she new those upstairs liked their staff to be smartly turned out in case some of the hobknobs decided to pay a surprise visit for tea and crumpet.

"Wot fer Cook ? I'm not in trouble am I ?" squeaked Tess with that oh so familiar sinking feeling in her tummy, trying to think if she'd done anything untoward since the last time she was up before the head of the household for her sins.

Nibbling her lower lip with worry, she recalled "the last time" and the painful memories it had resulted in. She most certainly didn't want to go through THAT again !

Grabbing up her skirts she scampered up the stone stairs and headed for her Masters study....


Spanking Story: Haggling for a Spanking

It was a sunny Saturday during a stiflingly hot summer month and I could tell trouble was a brewing ahead.

Beside me Karen, my own dear heart, was sat in the passenger seat, window down, hair blowing in the wind whilst humming and drumming her fingers to the sound of Altered Images telling her to stop talking about this thing called love.

Her blue eyes had that steely determined “This lady means business” look in them where I knew exactly what was going through that pretty head of hers.

Sighing, I gripped the wheel tighter and shifted a gear higher. Terrific. We were only off to the local multiplex shopping mall where we were going to look for a new bloody fridge freezer.

There may be trouble ahead…


Spanking Story: For Old Times Sake

Part 1.

Her long red hair, wild and unkempt, cascaded around her like a fiery fan as she trapped her lower lip between her perfect teeth. Her deep green eyes were sparkling with the joys of discovery as her slim hand reached up and touched her lips as she stumbled slightly in the lush green breezy grass.

With chest heaving, she shook her head playfully before she waggled an "Oh naughty you!!" finger at her companion who sat on a weatherworn rock watching her dance away. Laughing, she turned and ran up and away through the mountain heather towards home.

Jack Bauer stared after her until she disappeared from view then glanced down at his still tingling right hand. He grinned and was about to chase after her when he noticed the long red scarf lying discarded in her fleeing wake.

Reaching down he picked it up. Lifting it to his nose he breathed deeply. He could smell her on it. Grabbing his coat, he set off after her with his chest swelling with a new sense of being. A startling sense of sexual enlightenment and the realization that he had finally found that strange something that had somehow, enticingly, hovered just out of his reach for as long as he could remember.

Today was his fourteenth birthday and the girl was the only daughter of the family who lived in the cottage next door to his own. Her name was Megan and she was a year younger than him. The year was 1977 and the world to them was simple, carefree and alive with possibilities and opportunities.

Tuesday, 18 February 2014

Spanking Story: The Spanking Agency 2


Annie Dodds brushed back her long hair, glancing over her shoulder as he slid down the zip and began to ease his black pants over his hips. She could feel her body begin to tingle with anticipation, merging with the dull throbbing of her bum into an intoxicating mix of swirling emotion.

Her eyes followed every line and curve of taut muscle as she waited for her impalement.

Hairy legs. Black hairy legs.

He reached over her and sank his hand in her thick dusty blonde hair which hung in rivulets down to the middle of her back.

Watching as he grasped the waistband of his underpants, she took a final deep breath and stared as he drew them down to mid-thigh. The moment of revelation was frozen in time as she stared...agog.

Flushing red, she looked up from his bare manhood to his face. His dark features bore a "well, what do you think of that missy!" amused expression as if he'd been in this situation many times before.

Her eyes dropped down again. "That thing is really big and fat..." she thought.

She felt his chosen orifice twitch in muted alarm. Her and her big mouth. "Why, oh why did I tell Dolly about that?!" What had she said to her again ? She blushed as she recalled answering the questionnaire to join the Agency.

"Any er....special er...skills?" the nice blonde lady with the big boobs had asked.

Step forward Miss Gobshite. She had nodded, smiled wickedly and with a secret whisper to the wide eyed secretary had said "You can call me Anal Annie...."

Spanking Story: Bad Girls Talk Spanking

Surprised and shocked Chloe looked at Sarah, Sarah stared at Samantha and Samantha, because she was far more worldly wise than her friends sitting round the table, smirked knowingly at Linda who was sat red faced wondering if she had said too much.

"Oh is THAT all." purred Samantha running the ringed fingers of both hands through her brass covered locks and sounding as if she was the supreme "been there, done that, not only bought the t-shirt but had printed on it "Life is for suckers and I suck with the best of them" good time gal.

Samantha liked it known that she had been around the block a few times and took an amused sort of "bet you haven't tried that yet !!" pride in her sexual escapades and the reactions of her closest friends when she happily told them of the details.

Though sometimes, those currently sitting around the alcove table enjoying a late afternoon get-together in their favourite eatery didn't know whether to believe her or not. After all, how often do you hear someone say "Did you know what he did to me next ?" she asked brightly as she stirred her cappuccino, the girls always shook their heads for they knew they'd never of guessed in a million years. "Well, he took a strawberry from the bowl, made me lie back with my legs in the air then using his tongue he pushed it right up my bum !!" Samantha would pause, as she always did for she loved the shocked looks on the others faces. "THEN, when he'd pushed it up as far as it would go he'd taken the bottle of cream squirted it all over my you know what and then got on his knee's and crawled over to the opposite side of the bedroom. Then he made me squeeze and shoot it out of my bum like a teensy weensy cannonball so he could try to catch it in his mouth !! Amazing eh ??!!" she'd finished with a triumphalist grin from ear to ear as she listened to the others going. "WHAT ? THATS THATS..." "You fibber Sam he never did...did he?" "Thank yourself lucky he didn't have a bowl of grapefruit to hand..."

So Linda's revelation about her on/off love life with her long suffering beau Teddy was a mere trifling as far as the walking talking sexual encyclopaedia was concerned. Chloe, the youngest of the quartet by 3 years at 22 picked up a cherry from her trifle and sucked the fruit off the straw in that well practiced way she had. As she chewed on it thoughtfully she said innocently. "I thought only bad girls got a spanking. "

Samantha collapsed in a fit of the giggles. "Uhh nope, not always sweetie. Sometimes good girls too if they ask real nice." Sarah, the oldest at 30 gave her 27 year old friend a "Ok, don't tell too? " wry look of unsurprised disdain. Samantha just shrugged enjoying Linda's latest episode of burgeoning sexual discovery and emotional confusion. She wondered where dear lovable but dim Teddy had gotten this sudden flash of inspiration.

Spanking ? Oh dear, she was surprised Linda hadn't fainted dead away when he asked her. Personally, she would of eaten Teddy alive.

Chloe, the bookworm, the "sensible and level headed" one of the group spoke up and said something sensible as usual. "Spanking ?" she flustered "That's wife beating !!" she pointed out vigorously. "Well, it would be if you were married to the creep..." she corrected herself quickly.

Linda's head spun round and she glared at Chloe. "He is NOT a creep. He might not be the most....most exciting man between the sheets..."

"Way too much detail honey..." murmured Samantha.

".......but he's good and kind and and...he loves me !!" finished Linda emphatically.

"How do you know ?" asked Samantha off the cuff.

Linda glared at Samantha. Oh, that smart arsed bitch. Linda so wanted to ram those words down her throat but her mouth bobbed open as she tried to remember when Teddy had ever told her that he loved her. Samantha sat opposite with a bemused smile licking the cream off her teaspoon. "Teddy." began Linda forcefully. She'd show this slack pussed hussy she wouldn't be pushed around."..doesn't have to. I know it. We just are. It was meant to be."

Sarah stuck her tongue in her cheek. Oh dear sweet Linda. So sweet and innocent at 25. God, when on earth had I lost that carefree emotion she sighed to herself. Life could be such a cruel and spiteful bitch sometimes. She caught Samantha's amused gaze and shook her head slightly to warn her to back off. Samantha smiled, she knew the score. She was just teasing and couldn't resist a last gentle prod in the ribs - or slap on the backside maybe - before conceding ground. The last thing she wanted was to upset her young friend. But couldn't resist the obvious..

"Then why does he want to spank your perfectly formed little arse then hmmmm?"

Spanking Story: Submissive Female Seeks..

Bethany stopped suddenly.

Her right index finger was poised over the left mouse button as she stared at the pointer as it hovered over the "send" button. It was decision time. Certainly not a time for hesitation or self doubt. She glanced at the concise lines of text she’d inputted into the required slots proof-reading them just in case. Her mouth felt dry. But despite everything, despite numerous relationships and false dawns here was a cast iron guaranteed certainty - if she was willing to just click that dammed send button.

Drawing a sharp breath, she closed her eyes briefly and clicked her mouse.

There was an hourglass pause then the merest hint of something happening until, suddenly, an oblong yellow box popped up telling her: "Thank you for submitting your advert. We hope you find what you are looking for. To check for replies please go to our main page and log in using your username and password. Your box number is 765."

Opening notepad, Bethany made a note of the details and saved it under "Fingers-crossed" which made her smile. That just about summed it up alright.


Somewhere in the cyber ether, travelling along some information super-highway sped a message on whose header it said "Sub S.W.F seeks…."


Spanking Story: FRIENDS 2


[Honestly, I tried to think of a snappier title but failed - author]

Meanwhile, at Ross and Rachel's apartment...

Rachel stood in the open-plan kitchen slicing and dicing some serious vegetables for the evening meal. She'd finished early at Central Perk and thought she'd surprise her boyfriend of two months with a delicious meat and vegetable hotpot. "Two whole months ?!!" she smiled to herself as a whole carrot was hung, drawn and quartered with skilled ease.

Amazing, two months. Who would of believed it ? Certainly not her. Ross may of had a long standing crush on her since they were kids but he was geeksville personified when they'd been at school together. Then, Ross was the kind of guy who wore his shirts tucked into his underpants. It was ironic, but she knew she had never given the gangly Mr Geller a second look or thought in those days. Especially when he grew that Groucho Marx moustache that made him look like Tom Sellecks twin brother.

She sighed at the memories as she picked up the slicing board, went over to the oven and using the knife, slid the diced carrots and suede into the pan where the meat was stewing nicely on medium heat. Once done, she gave the wooden board a quick clean with Mr Sqweezy and picked up her glass of wine. It sure as hell had been an interesting two months that was for sure....

As was only natural, the first month and a half had mostly been taken up with pure unadulterated sex. Sure they'd gone on romantic dates to the movies, theatre or spent some time enjoying moonlight meals at various restaurants but, and there was no point trying to avoid the subject here, they'd spent just as much time screwing each other stupid. She certainly wasn't embarrassed about that. Not at all. She had no problem admitting she enjoyed sex enormously. Why should she be ashamed of admitting as much ? After all, wasn't this the 21st century ? Women's liberation and all that jazz. She'd certainly taught her stuffy palientologist a thing or two about human coupling. Besides, she loved watching him imitate Goofy when he hit the roof during one of their "animalistic" sessions. So sex was great. Better than she thought it'd be. Ross having a rather impressive dick certainly helped things too of course. So she was happy, contented and, not to put too fine a point on it, was in serious trouble of developing the John Wayne walk. Wide eyed and legless. But that had all changed about two weeks ago....when she'd asked Ross about his "IT"

Rachel slipped into a table chair and instantly regretted it. "Ummm...ooooo." she mumbled softly as she gingerly resettled her rear-end back down. Only this time gentler. Her bottom was still sore after last nights "episode". She took another sip of wine, her lips mulling over the tang and turning into a wry smile of bemusement at her own actions and reactions to discovering that she ACTUALLY quite liked letting Ross do his thing with her backside. So what was last night ? Four ? No.....wait, she'd forgotten about Sunday last when Ross had grabbed her in the shower and bent her naked over the bathtub while he gave her a fairly hard spanking with each slap sounding twice as loud due to the spray. After he had finished she'd practically jumped his bones (oh..ha ha) and was amazed they'd both managed to stagger to work on the following Monday morning. No, that would be five. Over the two weeks he'd spanked her five times. Though she knew the horny dinosaur would of done it more if he could. He was probably just shy. She laughed out loud. "Suuuuuure !!"

"Spanking huh ?" she mused, mulling over the wine absent-mindedly. It wasn't so bad at all. After the initial fright of the first time when he'd been so pissed off with her telling Pheebs about their little secret that he had literally grabbed her, threw her resisting over his lap and tanned her hide while she threatened she was definitely going to castrate him......when he let her up.

It was then fate opened the manual of her sexuality and decided to add another page after "Greek...penchant for backdoor plumbing when in right mood." and she discovered she actually enjoyed the feel of it, the unexpected thrill of it and the outrageous kinkiness of it. Hmmm, maybe that was the secret. It was kinky. Out of the norm. Doing something out of the ordinary. Sort of thumbing her nose at conventional wisdom about what and how the career woman of today was supposed to act. Yeah, that was it. He was doing something kinky with - to her and she liked it. Kinky is as kinky does. What had he called it again ? Oh yes, stuff. Her boyfriend liked to do stuff.

With her free hand she reached behind herself and idly rubbed her tush. "Stuff huh ?" she said aloud. Maybe there was other "stuff" they could try. She took another sip as she glanced at the clock wondering what Ross was doing at work now.....

Sunday, 16 February 2014

Spanking Story: The Deal

"That's the deal." said the man from behind his desk. "Take it or leave it."

The woman sitting across from him blinked, her mind working furiously on a way out of her predicament. "But you can't do that, that's...that's blackmail and you know it !!" she cried out in mounting trepidation and alarm.

Mr Higgins just shrugged his shoulders. "Well, its either my way or the police highway I guess." he replied with a sigh as he reached over to pick up the phone. "Don't plead little Miss Innocent with me Mandy, you were the one with your hands in the till. You've only got yourself to blame you were caught red-handed. As for your crime, I'm not going to stand for having my companies accounts fiddled..."

Mandy Miller, a smart, attractive woman in her late twenties was in a right pickle and that was no mistake. "No, please wait....can't we er, like er, come to some sort of other arrangement. Please don't call the Police. I'm sorry, really sorry." she pleaded tearfully. What on earth had possessed her to do such a stupid thing ? She wished she could turn back the clock.

Her Boss held his phone next to his ear with his finger hovering over the dial. "Well then, are you or aren't you ?" he asked sharply. "Come to think of it, you've worked here for how long, six months ? To be honest girl, your attitude leaves a bloody lot to be desired as far as I'm concerned. Don't think I haven't noticed but I've seen the way you treat some of the others on the shopfloor. Miss high and mighty doesn't come close. You know what you are Miss Miller ?" he said coldly.

Mandy, frozen in her seat feeling like a chastised little girl, shook her head as her tears rolled down her cheeks. " Sir."

Mr Higgins was warming to his task. Despite the seriousness of the situation he found to his surprise he was relishing the power he held over this young woman, his secretary, a very attractive one come to that. One reason, he had to admit, he employed her in the first place despite her lack of qualifications. "You are a brat Miss Miller. A b-r-a-t. A brat that needs to be taken down a peg or two and shown some manners and respect for others. So, that's my proposition. I either sack you right now, call the Police and you'll probably end up in jail or....." he said menacingly. "Or....I deal with you myself. So which is it to be ?"

Mandy gulped and felt faint. What was she going to do ?!!

With a feeling of dread she realised there was only one way out.


Spanking Story: My Grandma's Big Bottomed Neighbour

Part 1.

Summer of '74.

A Saturday morning in July.

My dad's garden shed.

"You first."

"Me?" I replied looking wide-eyed at the girl as she stood fiddling with one of her two pig-tails watching me.

"Hmm huh, if you want to see mine, you've got to show me yours first." she replied her eyes bouncing up and down like a yo-yo from my red face to my crotch. I stood in sheer terror and embarrassment sucking my bottom lip wondering how the hell I'd got myself into this position in the first place.

Spanking Story: Guy All The Bad Girls Want

Part One.

Okay, listen up. Here’s the deal. No introductions, preview, prelude or whatever. No setup, no plot mechanics and definitely no explanations. Nope, none of that crap. Cut to the chase. In at the deep end. It’s either sink or swim.

If the reason your reading this isn’t the same as the reason I’m writing this then you’re in the wrong place, at the wrong time and thinking the wrong things.

For those of you in the right place, at the right time and thinking about the right things, take a deep breath and come join me in my personal hell...


My apartment and deja vous was ringing alarm bells.

“You must be bloody joking!!” she blurted out as she jerked away from me like she’d had an electric shock or something. “If you think I’m going to let you do that to me you’ve got another thing coming!!” The element of surprise in her deep blue gaze was quickly replaced by a look of disdained disgust as what had been an intimate moment between us had evaporated in the blink of a wide eye spectacularly.

She jumped up, grabbed her coat and headed for the door. Before she left, as I sat there like I had done a few times before feeling a mixture of helpless, embarrassed and frustrated, she turned with a final flourish. “You want to get that seen to, you.. you pathetic disgusting filthy pervert!!” With that she was gone and I could imagine the whole apartment block reverberating from the door slam.

Resigned, I got to my feet and went to pour myself a double brandy which I downed ruefully in one. Same as it ever was. Sighing, I poured another and went to the window, looking down from the fifth floor as life went on serenely outside oblivious to my suffering. “I guess that’s a no then?”


Fate, as they say, moves in mysterious ways.

It was a week or so later that I found myself wheezing my way up to the seventh floor of a non descript building wondering if I was certifiably insane or a sucker for ritual humiliation on a regular basis. I stopped and looked at the advert I had cut from the weekend ad section in the local newspaper. I frowned as I looked around at the dim dank brown pre-metropolis décor of the hallway lit only from the dull glow of a single baleful lightbulb. Where was number 82A?

An old lady appeared suddenly at the top of the stairwell looking at me warily as she clutched her bag tighter to her chest.

“Number 82A?” I asked, trying to sound friendly and none threatening.

Her demeanour changed in an instant as she tapped me on the arm and pointed along the long dark corridor. “That way dearie.” she smiled. Then to my complete surprise she winked. “I hope you like redheads.”

I stood there listening to her laughter as she made her way down the stairs until she disappeared into the surrounding shadows.


Spanking Story: My Wife's Fetish


"Well what?"

"Well, are you going to or not?"

"Going to what?"

"Stop being so bloody daft Ian, you know what I mean!!"

"I do?"

"You sod, you're doing this on purpose aren't you. Just to get me bloody riled."

"Do what?"

"IAN !!"


Confused ? Let me explain....

My wife Mandy has a fetish. Spanking.

Come to think of it, you'd better add slippering, belting and caning to that as well. Now don't ask me where it comes from because I've got no flipping idea. Even while we were courting she never mentioned a thing, though come to think of it, looking back whenever (read: as often as I could) I was giving her one doggy-style in the backseat of my mini she would always go off like a fucking rocket whenever I patted and pinched her bum. Besides, how was I to know? I was well out of it at the time with my brains being in my dick.

It was on about the third night of our honeymoon when she finally told me in a veeeeeeery round about way that she liked getting her arse smacked. Basically, she was sitting on my face when she asked me if I thought she had a nice bum.

"Do I?" she giggled as I diddled her clit with my tongue making her whimper and paddle her feet against the seat.

"Mfmmffffffffffffmmmmmott?" I mumbled as I rubbed her with my finger.

"Do you like my bum ?" she asked out of the blue.

Now what sort of stupid fucking question was that?

Course I did. It was a beauty. Big, firm, round with just the right amount of bounce. In other words my Mandy had a nice fucking arse - literally (but that's another story). "Uhhuh." I replied, admiring her shaved fanny from close quarters. That's another thing I love about my missus, she's a stickler for cleanliness and prefers to keep her naughty bits totally bare which was fine by me. There's nothing worse when giving your better half the benefit of your oral technique (cough) than to suddenly find yourself with a mouthful of fuzz - yuk !!

"Really ?" she sighed. "Can you, will you, would you slap it a bit ?" she asked, suddenly reaching forward to grasp my upright prong giving it a hard squeeze that brought tears to me eyes.

Do what ?

Gripping me in her fist, she slowly eased her hand up and down making my toes curl. Me, all I could see was the orange glow of her backside in the lamp light as she squeezed my nose between her arsecheeks. "Well, will you, you know....spank my bum. I've always wondered what it would feel like. Go on Ian. Just a bit pleeeeease." she simpered as another noodle of dewdrop dripped from her spongy wet hole.

Number one rule in life lads - keep the little woman happy, especially when she has your be all and end all firmly in her grasp. So, anyway on that fateful night I found out that my little bunny wunny had a secret kink and liked getting her big bum thoroughly smacked until it was hot and sore.


Big time.

Saturday, 15 February 2014

Spanking Story: The Old Victorian Spank Shop

Part 1.
In the county of Northumbria, nestled snugly in a green patchwork quilt of rolling hills and wild rivers sat the small market town of PagansWart.
The dwellings that made up Woodcutters Lane were like most others except for one small abode. Built long ago when life was simpler, kinder and goodwill was abroad amongst all men, it sat hidden down a blind back alley away from the more normal offerings of commerce and trade.

Standing two stories high, it was strong and sturdy having weathered the tests and ravishes of time. Within its walls, life was lived, wares were bartered or bought and where many a tall tale echoes like a mournful ghost bemoaning its fate to the dead of the night. During its lifetime, this building has seen many faces from cobbler, fishmonger, pawnbroker, grocer to a tinker. Each adding their own page to the history within it's walls.

Our tale shall begin here.


Christmas 1897

With snowflakes falling and surrounded by tall, dancing shadows cast by the setting winter sun, a small figure scurried breathlessly through the alley.

Elizabeth Rose grasped the hem of her swirling black skirt as she ran, her small boots crunching in the freshly fallen snow as her imagination conjured phantom figures lurking in the black as pitch coves of Woodcutters Lane. Reaching up to clasp her bonnet, she glanced over her shoulder looking back into the night from where she fled, her fear washing over her good sense for she imagined the fine hairs on the nape of her neck prickle as if someone was watching her.
But to her wide blue eyes, the alley sat silent, dark and still.

Gasping with relief, she finally reached its mouth where she screeched to a halt, looking this way and that as she tried to compose herself for she was about to enter PagansWart's main square where the hubbub of the mingling masses were enjoying the last few days before the Christmas break. Not only that, it was a Tuesday and it was market day.

Sellers, stallholders, traders, shirkers, tinkers and most likely pickpockets came from miles around to partake in the age old ritual of barter which brightened up the mundane existence of those that lived in the shire. Situated in the main square, surrounded by lop-sided, red tiled, white fronted, black latticed shop fronts, the market was a hive of activity built around rickety stalls laden down with wares of all types and persuasion supplemented with wagon traders selling lotions, potions, cures fer this and that from the backs of their carts.

With heaving breast, she becalmed her thudding heart and taking a deep breath stepped out into the babbling throng. To the curious onlooker, Ms Rose was a comely lass, fair blonde of mane, short, slight in stature with surprising strength forged from long hours in the mills but with a fine turn of heel that bedecked her with a fetching sweetness that was slightly offset by the naughty gleam and knowing glint in her blue eyes.

Indeed, if the patrons mingling about the market that winter's day realised what she had been up to not an hour beforehand many a shock would be gasped and many a fan would be unfurled to hide a blossoming blush. For as Lizzie wound her way through the market, she could only think of one thing as she grasped the shilling in her pocket.

Her backside didn't half throb like a sore tooth!!

Surrounded by the stench of spiked pig roasting on a spit mixing with the putrid ness of the great unwashed, she stopped and turned to look from whence she came. Reaching behind her, cupping her bustle to give it a soothing rub, she winced at the memory.

Of Mr Tiggywinkle.

The gentleman who lived at number twenty-two Woodcutters Lane and who was the owner of Ye Old Spank Shop.

Spanking Story: FRIENDS 1


Rachel snuggled closer to Ross as they lay together in his double bed.

Ross was reading but Rachel had other things on her mind. "Ross..." she whispered, easing herself up to rest against his left shoulder and running a finger teasingly across his breastbone.

"Hmmmmmmmm ?" Ross replied absent-mindedly trying to ignore her obvious charms. Once he got his nose in a book nothing would unplug it. Not even Rachel. Naked. In bed. With him. But only just mind.

Rachel ignored his off-handed reply and soldiered on for she was determined. " you, well, what I mean is." Rachel took a deep breath. This was really really important. She had been going nuts thinking about it. "Do you, is there anything, well you know, you like.............doing ?" she breathed in his ear. To show she was serious she stuck out her tongue and licked his earlobe causing Ross to shrug up his shoulder as she tickled him. "If there is, you can tell me. I won't tell a soul I promise. In fact, I might know, do it." Rachel could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Phew. She'd finally said it. She'd often wondered if there was a darker side to her new boyfriend. The idea seemed totally absurd. "This is Ross we're talking about here !!" she'd thought initially. Ross, Ross. Good old dependable, trustworthy, boring Ross. The dinosaur guy. If this guy has a kink he keeps it well hidden. Or so she'd thought.

That was until last week..........

Spanking Story: Shadows of the Past

Part 1 - The Victorian Attic.

The old Victorian house was nearly empty now. Everything had been taken away to someplace somewhere or other and all that was left to be cleared were a few boxes in the attic. The only thing that lingered now were memories of all those that had lived and died between its walls…

The workman grunted as he picked up another box of the late Mrs Vanderguards belongings and turned to the young woman who was supervising the house clearing making notes on a clipboard for the auctioneers. "Looks like more old newspapers Miss Black. What do you want me to do with them. Bonfire ?" he asked, not really caring at all. It all looked like the same old rubbish to him.

Jenny Black, 32 years old and working as an collator and auditor for the local Auction house looked inside the box and with a practised eye rifled through its faded yellow contents. He was right, it was mostly old newspapers and from the looks of it the late Mrs Vanerguard was a Times reader. The dates on some went back to the 19th century and early 20th. It would be a shame to just dump them and besides she knew of one or two collectors of Victoriana who just might be interested. "No Jimmy, put them in my car and I’ll have a look at them later. You never know what I might find." She smiled as he grunted and made his way down the atic steps.

Alone, Jenny looked around a last time. The air hung thick with a faint mist of dust lingering. The dust of ages. She could smell its history. Jenny loved her job, she had always had an interest in the past even as a little girl and she felt sad that such a piece of history, the personal history of the Vanderguard family was due to be reduce to a pile of rubble come next week.

As she reached the stairs she paused for something had caught her eye. Looking closer she noticed that on one of the beams somebody had carved a heart with an inscription – "Victoria and Lawrence for ever despite the sting." She whispered . And underneath a date – "December 1894" Jenny smiled, slightly bemused at the intimate message.

"Goodbye Mrs Vanderguard, I hope you and your husband are together again wherever you may be." Closing the door to the attic, Jenny walked slowly down the wooden stairs, turned and locked the huge oak door as she left without looking back. The old Victorian house was silent but to one such as she, far from empty.