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 ?!! Oh....my......GOD !!

"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. "Er...no, 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 vouchers...you 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 to......how 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 !!

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 "Hurrmpff...it'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.