Holy Shit!

I just checked in on Tess's GlamourVision site and this is what I found.  OMG is this enough to make a romantic guy like me dribble in his trousers.  I mean - it's a great picture in itself, but the sheer beauty of the young model and the sensual combination of bra and half-slip, with the section of bare midriff between them, defy my humble efforts of description.  Go now, my disciples and visit her site.  There is more!

Poem - Fiona

Beneath the covers on her bed

Fiona rubs her bottom red

Alas to misbehave at school

Is not a good thing as a rule

Having been called to front of class

She had to bend and show her ass

While skirt was lifted and Miss Speed

Dealt retribution for misdeed

With four cane stripes across her bum

Fiona dare not tell her mum

For fear that strap behind the door

Will but augment her troubles more

“I have a headache Mum,” she’d said

“I need to go lie down instead

Of having tea; perhaps some rest

In circumstances would be best”

Her secret safe for now at least

She wishes for the hurt to ease

And yet perversely with the pain

Strange thoughts revolve inside her brain

For though the shame cause her to fret

Her pussy has turned strangely wet

Which rubbing finds to her delight

All kinds of passion do excite

Her fingers probing, kneading, squeezing

Bring results extremely pleasing

After time she starts to spasm

Giving way to full orgasm

“Oh my God!” she squeals with glee

“Whatever has come over me?

My dear Miss Speed I love your cane

Oh please give it to me again!”

Short Story - Best Friends

Chrissie and Melanie were best chums at school, delighting in each other’s company, sharing the ups and downs of boarding school life, and getting into the odd scrape on the way.

People said that they were like twins, especially in their black gymslips, both being fairly tall and of medium build. They each had shoulder length hair tied back in a regulation ponytail, and the only thing that separated them at first glance was that Mel was a brunette, while Chrissie was a golden blonde.

The school maintained a strict regime, but somehow they always managed to stay below the radar; except that is, for the time that Mel got caught sneaking back through the fence, on the way back from an illicit raid on the village tuck shop.

That had earned her a visit to the headmistress, and caning, which also meant a black mark on her record. Chrissie had been with her on that outing, but had managed to sneak back into school without being caught. Mel, in true British tradition of loyalty to her friends, had not “squealed” and had taken the rap alone; even though it had been Chrissie’s suggestion that they go in the first place.

The incident had taken place a couple of years previously, and each had maintained an otherwise unblemished record but, when they reached the sixth form and the prefectures were handed out, only Chrissie was accorded the privilege. In the role, she was responsible for discipline amongst the girls under her charge and, if necessary, authorised to dispense up to six strokes of the cane.

She was not a strict disciplinarian as such, but neither did she believe in sparing the rod. In her defence however, she was scrupulously fair and only caned when rules had been broken. Rule-breakers could not expect mercy; neither did they receive it.

It was therefore unfortunate when Mel was caught using the Matron’s telephone by Chrissie herself, acting in response to a tip-off from a junior girl, and hauled up to the prefects’ common room to face the music.

Once in the common room, there was only one thing that could happen, and Chrissie reluctantly went to the cupboard and took out one of the canes. Three or four of the other prefects were lounging around, feigning disinterest, but each of them knew of the special friendship between the two, and they were secretly wetting themselves with the prospect of what was about to take place.

Mel wasn’t wetting herself though; she was almost shitting herself instead, because she knew that unauthorized use of the telephone was an automatic six of the best on the bottom. As she stood there waiting, the gnawing feeling in her stomach was transmitting signals to her ass, and she had to pinch her cheeks together to stop herself from farting. She dare not look around the room, but she knew that all the attention was on her.

Chrissie picked up a chair and placed it in the middle of the room. She said nothing but Mel knew it was for her to bend over. It stood before her like an executioner’s block.

Mel felt like crying because it seemed so unjust that her best friend, the one whose neck she had saved eighteen months before, was now going to beat her. And there could be no question of anything less than six vicious cuts of the cane through her knickers. The punishment was prescribed, and Chrissie would have to carry it out properly, or there would be questions asked.

Licking her lips with fear, and with chest pounding, Mel stepped forward, lifted the skirt above her waist and bent over the back of the chair, grasping hold of the seat tightly with both hands. She fidgeted slightly, then pushed up on her tip-toes in the approved manner.

The cane swished through the air and cracked against her bottom, echoing round the room like a pistol shot. Almost immediately, the searing pain ripped through her body in a sea of fire, and it was all she could do to clench her teeth together and gasp inwardly. No sooner had the surging shockwaves settled into a bar of raging torment across the centre of her buttocks, than a second stroke worked its way in; just as hard; just as painful. It was followed by four more, leaving her gasping for breath in their wake.

The tears welled up into Mel’s eyes with shame and humiliation. She stood up when the command came, and hurried from the room, running straight into the lavatories down the corridor. Having locked herself inside a cubicle, she pulled down her knickers, trying to look behind her to examine the damage, but it was physically impossible. She ran her hands over the bulging welts and felt their angry response.

Suddenly there was a knock on the cubicle door, and she heard a girl’s voice through the mist of pain. It was Chrissie………

“Mel! It’s me. Please open the door. I am so sorry. I didn’t have any choice. I had to cane you!”

The door flew open, and Melanie burst out, eyes red with tears and rage.

“You fucking two-faced witch!” she screamed and punched her former friend square on the nose. Then both grabbed hold of the other’s hair and soon they were rolling on the ground screaming at each other, with Mel’s knickers still down around her ankles.

They made such a commotion that half the school heard the noise, and came to investigate what was going on. Soon the lavatory block was filled with excited pupils all straining and pushing to try and get a better view.

In the end Miss Parsons and a posse of prefects arrived to separate the two belligerents, and restore some kind of order.

Then Mel and Chrissie were marched down to the headmistress’s office to explain themselves.

On the way to there, it quickly dawned upon both girls that they were in deep shit. Fighting was strictly prohibited. At the very least, it attracted a severe caning. Since Mel had already received one of those not half an hour before, she was going to be in for a bad time. She could of course ask for it to be deferred, but she would need a good reason, and then it would come to light that she had just been beaten for using the telephone without permission.

Much as she hated to admit it, Chrissie had been doing her a favour by caning her, because that way it had at least kept the offence off the record. Now, with fighting added to her misconduct tally, she faced expulsion.

On the other hand, Chrissie was for it too, unless she got the blame laid firmly at Mel’s door. And in fairness, she had every right to do so, because it was the truth.

Mel had been guilty of breaking the rules and Chrissie had rightly punished her for it. The only reason she had gone to the toilets was to try to offer comfort. Chrissie was innocent in all this, and now she faced the choice of either being stripped of her prefect status, or shopping her erstwhile best friend.

Upon arrival outside the Head’s office, the two girls were instructed to sit down in the waiting room, while Miss Parsons went inside to brief Mrs Wilson, the Head, on the situation as she saw it. Mel and Chrissie sat at either end of the row of hard wooden chairs. Mel was fidgeting and Chrissie was wiping a couple of blood spots away from her nose. They were avoiding each other’s gaze.

Chrissie was called in first.  There was the muffled sound of two female voices; one lower pitched one being that of the headmistress.  It was impossible for Melanie to make out what was being said.  But it didn't need a genius to work out that she was being stitched up.

Presently the door opened and Mel’s heart sank. Oh dear God this was it. She was ready to beg and plead for reprieve. Okay, maybe if she just kept her mouth shut and she was really lucky, she might just get away with a caning. Could she take another caning? Her ass was already on fire…..

The tall, angular figure of Miss Parsons appeared in the doorway. Beyond her, Mel caught a glimpse of Chrissie’s back, as she stood facing the Head’s desk.

“Right Melanie,” said Miss Parsons. “You may go. Chrissie has told us what happened and we will deal with it.”

Mel’s jaw dropped open. Go? She did not understand. Why…..?

“Go on girl!” snapped Miss Parsons. “Don’t hang around here.”

With her knees still trembling from shock, and fear of the caning which apparently she was not going to get, she made her way shakily and uncomprehendingly towards the outer door, still unable to believe what was going on.

 As she reached the door, she heard the voices again coming from the inner office, followed suddenly by the unmistakable crack of a cane hitting someone’s bottom. It could only have been Chrissie’s. A second, and then a third followed. Mrs Wilson was laying them on hard; ……four……..five………..

“Oh God no!” Mel realised that somehow Chrissie had taken the blame for the fight and that she, Melanie, was going to get off scot-free. She wanted to burst back into the office and stop it. But she realised it was too late. Her friend had already sacrificed herself to save her, just as she had done when the situations had been reversed, eighteen months earlier. They were even now, but at what cost: their friendship?

Mel suddenly collapsed crying on the floor, great tears plopping onto the polished linoleum. If only she had been able to control her temper….

Eventually the noise of the caning ceased and the Head’s door opened; Chrissie appeared, holding her bottom and crying. When she stepped out into the corridor, she was met by Melanie who was shaking her head and crying too.

“I’m so sorry Chrissie,” she stammered. “I’m…..I'm.....”

She broke off in mid sentence. Chrissie was no longer wearing her prefect’s badge and red girdle of office. She had not only been caned, but had been reduced to the ranks as well.

Mel gasped in horror. “No!” she screamed. “Oh dear Jesus this is all my fault. I have to go and put it right.” She made as if to go back into the office but Chrissie restrained her.

“Don’t be stupid Mel," she hissed and dragged her down the corridor. “If you go back in there and tell them the truth, you are dead meat. They will expel you for sure. Now get your sorry ass upstairs, because we both need to get cleaned up. That toilet floor was disgusting. As regards the beating: forget it. I owed you one ever since you saved my neck that time, and now we are even, got it?”

It was true. But to Mel, it seemed that the price which Chrissie had just paid, was a high one.

“How many did you get?” She asked still sobbing.

“Eight. Now just leave it will you. I hated being a damned prefect anyway, because it came between us and I didn’t deserve to be one in the first place. Be positive: in three months we will both be out of here and finished with damn school. All we have to do is keep our noses clean and pass our exams. Are we friends again?”

“Of course we are Chrissie; friends forever!” cried Mel, as they went into the washroom and stripped off their clothes for a shower.

With the hot water cascading over their bodies, they took turns in soaping each other and examining their well-caned bottoms. It was so erotic, and both simultaneously realised the truth: they were in love……….

Lisa

Lisa Brown sat behind her desk at the office, sipping her morning coffee, whilst mulling the problem that had vexed her for so long, virtually since childhood in fact.  Now, as she was approaching her fortieth year, she realised that if she wanted to realise her dream, she was going to have to be more proactive.  Her dream?  She desperately wanted a spanking, and not just a spanking, but a very,very hard one; a thorough beating that would bring tears to her pretty green eyes, leaving sore red marks on her bottom for days afterwards.

It wasn’t really a dream even anymore, it was more of an obsession; a demon that needed to be exorcised, if only to stop it from tormenting her.

She was a handsome woman in the eyes of most of the men who met her.  They paid her compliments, opened doors for her; admired her legs as she walked past.  Her long straight auburn hair with the curled up tips was the envy of many of her female colleagues.  While she was by no means skinny, at five feet four inches in her stockings and weighing in at just less than 140 pounds she was well proportioned.

As she sipped her coffee, she crossed her legs making the hose swish as she thought a little more of the spanking she yearned for.  For fun it would always be an OTK spanking but what she really wanted, perhaps for just once in her life, was to be scolded and punished for real, like the heroines were in her favourite books such as Jayne Eyre.  She wanted to have the red searing marks on her bottom, and feel fear and shame, as the strap (that was her preference) or cane, tore into her exposed backside leaving her gasping for breath.

“A penny for them!” said her colleague Joan, who sat at the next desk and had noticed the glazed look in her eyes.

“Uh?” replied Lisa, her train of thought suddenly interrupted.

“Your thoughts: a penny for them.  You looked miles away!”

Lisa suddenly blushed as she stammered, “Oh nothing of consequence!”

She received a knowing look from Joan in return.

“Yeah right.  Who were you fantasising about girlie?  That guy from the sales office I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Can’t a girl have any secrets around here?” asked Lisa, grateful to admit to a minor falsehood than be confronted with the truth.  “Anyway, it wasn’t him.”  Her “admission” left the field open for just about every eligible guy in the city and successfully stopped the interrogation in its tracks.

Not that Lisa was in the market for anyone.  She had a loving husband, a nice house, and a pet cat.  It was all that she needed at that time.  Affairs with other men she would avoid at all costs.  It just lead to heartache, and the world had enough of that without her making a contribution.  Okay, Joe had his faults, but she could live with them.  No one was ever perfect, and the grass always appeared to be greener on the other side of the fence.

One of Joe’s “faults” was that he was not interested in spanking her, even when she almost pleaded with him.  Beating a woman was simply not his idea of how a real man should behave, and he said so in no uncertain terms.  In BDSM terms he was a “vanilla” but on balance, it was far better to have a gentle and kind husband like him, than a brute who dealt out regular beatings just for the pleasure of hurting someone.

But the problem was that Lisa needed to be disciplined and if Joe was not prepared to do it, who would be?   A trusted friend might have been one option, but friends could turn out to be a liability if they knew too much.  If you quarrelled, there was no telling what information might be disclosed to third parties, simply out of spite.  No, close friends were tempting, but not the answer.

Neither were random strangers who advertised in the small ads columns of magazines.  They were a complete "no", unless you were a total fool.  Lisa shuddered to think about it, remembering some of the creeps who had showed up when, out of curiosity in the days before Joe had come along, she and a couple of friends had answered adds for a lark, just to see what happened.

After agonising long and hard, and amid much soul-searching, Lisa eventually came to the conclusion that the safest and surest way of achieving her goal, was through a professional who knew what they were doing.  That way, the beating would be administered dispassionately, there would be no repercussions and she would get exactly what she wanted with no questions asked.  She would simply have to pay the price, take the punishment, and leave.

*****

Once that she had finally made the arrangements, Lisa began to feel a sense of excitement that was bordering upon euphoria. and when the appointed day arrived, she could scarcely contain herself.

She was unsure what to wear at first.  Trousers and a top had initially come to mind but, the more she thought it over, they were not in fact the best option at all.  Okay, maybe if she had to run away or something, but that was just being negative.  Provided that everything went according to plan, the trousers would have to come off at some stage, and for sheer convenience, not to mention comfort, a skirt would be by far the better option.

Also she wanted to look and feel smart, because that was what her fantasy demanded.  So, sorting through her wardrobe, she selected a white shirt and black pinafore dress, over white bra, panties and half-slip.  She wore comfortable pair of black shoes and tan hose to complete the outfit, admiring the results in the full length mirror in her bedroom, before she left to keep the appointment.

“Joanne” lived in a semi-detached house in a respectable neighbourhood.  It was not her real name of course, but it was the one she used with her clients.  Lisa found her through the personal adverts of a specialist magazine, and having telephoned to make the initial enquiry, she had been impressed with how ordinary and kindly the woman had sounded.  In the end, it had been just like making an appointment to see a doctor or solicitor.


For her own peace of mind she had asked a friend to drop her at the address, and arranged to be collected an hour later.  That way she would not go un-missed if things did not turn out well, but in truth, she was not expecting problems because Joanne made no visible attempt to be secretive about her profession.  Even so, it was not without some trepidation that Lisa approached the wooden front door, with its 1930s stained glass, and rang the doorbell.  Through the frosted glass she perceived movement and presently the door was opened by a shortish lady in a green dress.   She was about forty years old, with dark wavy hair and a friendly smiling face.  Had one known any different, she would pass for a favourite aunt.


“Hello my dear,” she said cheerfully.  “Come on in and don’t be afraid.  I don’t bite.”


Her mind at ease, Lisa stepped inside.  The hallway was light and airy; there were some tasteful furnishings and a big vase of fresh flowers on a polished table that stood just inside the door.  Further up the hall stood a long-case clock, ticking rhythmically.  There was no other appreciable sound in the house.  It was all so peaceful.


“Don’t take this the wrong way my dear,” said Joanne, “but can we get the financial considerations over with first?  It makes things simpler, and once it’s done we concentrate on your requirements, without having to worry about it.”


“No, of course,” replied Lisa.  “It was one hundred wasn’t it?”  She reached inside her handbag taking out an envelope which she handed over.


Joanne took it and put it in the table drawer.


“Aren’t you going to count it?” asked Lisa, rather surprised that the other woman had taken it on trust.


Joanne shook her head and smiled.  “No; of course I’m not.”  she said.  “That would be vulgar.  I trust everyone until they give me cause to think otherwise.   Now if you follow me we have some business to attend to.”


Sensing a little hesitancy she smiled again, saying reassuringly: “It’s all right dear, there isn’t anyone else here.  I live alone and my next client isn’t coming until seven o’clock.   It won’t take long to sort you out, and we will have time for a cup of tea before your friend comes to pick you up.”


“You know I have someone collecting me?” asked Lisa.


“I would be surprised if you didn’t,” replied Joanne. “You look like a sensible woman to me and it is your first time here.  It is always best to be cautious.  Now don’t be nervous; you are here for pleasure, although some might not see it like that, given that it entails a certain amount of discomfort.  I don’t think you will be disappointed in that respect.”


She led the way down the hall and through a door into a room that was kitted out as a schoolroom, with desks and a blackboard.  “This is where I conduct my role-play sessions.”  Joanne explained.  “Most of my clients have a school fetish of some kind.   In fact, I think it’s probably something nearly everyone shares to some degree.
 
"Now, let me see, I think the strap I need is in here.” she said, opening a cupboard door.  “Ah yes, here it is.  I think you will appreciate this one.  It’s not too heavy but it carries a nice vibrant sting that will make you jump a bit.  It’s what you might describe as the 'entry level' model”


The strap she produced looked anything but "entry level" to Lisa's admittedly unpractised eye.  It was about two feet long, perhaps a couple of inches wide, supple, and made of thick black leather. 


Joanne turned to face Lisa, who suddenly realised, that the time for prevarication had passed.  Her waiting was over and the moment that she had dreamt of for so long had finally arrived.  A dreadful gnawing gripped her in the pit of the stomach.  She pinched the cheeks of her buttocks together as a feeling of panic threatened to overwhelm her.  Her knees went weak and began to knock involuntarily; she began to breathe heavily and her throat was dry.


“I - I…..” she stammered uncomfortably.


Joanne smiled.  “It’s okay.” She said reassuringly.  “Just do as you are told and it will be alright.  Lift up your skirt and bend over this desk.”  She was pointing to the desk in the centre of a row of three.  “Don’t be frightened.  It’s going to hurt quite a bit and there will be marks, but I won’t cause any lasting damage.  I haven’t lost a client yet.”


Self-consciously and with her heart pounding, Lisa obeyed the instruction, gripping the hem of her skirt and slip, pulling them up to waist height and arranging herself over the desk.  The wood felt hard against her tummy.  She felt so exposed and vulnerable with her undies showing.


Suddenly her knickers and tights were pulled briskly down to her knees, and she felt the cold smooth leather of the strap dancing lightly against the bared skin of her naked buttocks.  Any minute now and her torment would begin.  She suddenly realised that she didn't know quite what to expect; how bad the pain would be, or what sort of pain even.  She didn't even know how many strokes there would be.  She had left it up to Joanne, with the instructions to give them "good and hard".  Had that been wise, she wondered?

"Now listen my dear because this is quite important."  It was Joanne talking to her.  "You have come here with a particular set of requirements and I don't want any nonsense.  I want you to control yourself and behave impeccably, which means doing exactly what I tell you from now until the time I tell you different.  I am not an ogre, but this is business, and I have been commissioned to provide a service to you, the client.  There will be no jumping about, stamping of feet, tantrums or leaving your position.  If you do you will be out on your ear and I don't give refunds.  Are we clear?"

Yes ma'am."

"Good.  Now I am going to tell you so that you are in no doubt that these swats are not going to be love pats.  This is the real McCoy and you are going to hate it so much you will be grateful when it's over.  It is only fair that you know that so there is no misunderstanding.  Your ass is going to sting as though you have sat on a hornets nest, and there are going to be marks as a consequence.  Now, you have the option to abort this or we continue with your punishment.  Do you wish to continue?

Something akin to panic gripped Lisa but she had come so far now that to give up would merely leave her feeling like a failure and it would be more embarrassing to back out than to take the punishment.  She would never go this far again if she gave up, and she would spend the rest of her life wondering, and wishing for what might have been. 

"Carry on." she whispered, gripping the legs of the desk so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Joanne's sudden change of manner had thrown her momentarily, but then she understood that it was not sinister in the slightest.  This was a punishment experience and it was right that it should be administered in an atmosphere of solemnity.  Indeed, that had been her request; to be as realistic as possible.  Joanne was only obeying her instructions.  A real bona fide bawling out, such as her fantasy required, would have been slightly ridiculous and contrived.

"Right missy" said Joanne menacingly.  "Now you hold on to the desk and don't let go."

With that, suddenly and without warning, Lisa's whole world imploded.

CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!

Three swats from the strap landed on her ass in quick succession and the most unimaginable pain cascaded in all directions from both cheeks, stinging so viciously that she thought her brain was going to explode.

"Aaaaah Jesus!" she screamed.  "Ow!  Ow!  Ow!  Oh my God that hurts!"

"Don't you dare to blaspheme in this house young lady!" came Joanne's cold voice from behind her.

CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!

Lisa clamped her jaws together and managed to remain silent this time.  How pathetic she felt to be begging so soon.  This was not at all how it was in her fantasy, but the pain was so much worse that she had ever imagined.    Somehow it had been a kinder more bearable pain in her dreams; this was sheer agony!

CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!

"Aaaaaaargh!   Aaaaaargh!  Aaaaaaaaaaargh!"

Lisa was screaming at the top of her voice.   Somehow she held on to the desk but this was so shameful to be making such a fuss.  She was humiliating herself but she couldn't help it.

CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!  No!  Please!  That's enough!"  Lisa pleaded pathetically once again whilst tensing for the next three, but desperately hoping they would not come.

"So you think you have learned your lesson do you?"  asked Joanne sternly.

"Yes! Yes!"  sobbed Lisa.

"Last three then!  Hold still or there will be extras!"

There was a pause while Lisa was given time to control herself.

CRACK!  CRACK!  CRACK!

"Oooooooh!  Dear Jesus that stings!"  The tears formed in her eyes as she remained in position, desperate to avoid any penalty strokes.  At last Joanne spoke.  Suddenly her voice had changed back to the kindly matronly aunt of before, as though none of the strapping had occurred.

"Right dear." she said gently.  "Get up and sort your clothes out; then go and stand in the corner of the room with your hands clasped behind your head.  You will have ten minutes to reflect on matters and  remember that you are still under punishment.  If I catch you rubbing your bottom there will be trouble.  Do you understand?"

Sniffling back the tears, Lisa nodded and whispered "Yes Miss."  Then she pulled up her panties and hose, pulled down her slip and skirt, and went to the corner, standing with her nose pushed against the wall.  Her bottom felt as though she had sat on a nest if vipers but, and this was very strange indeed, she somehow felt liberated.  She could not really understand it, but the pain was making her sexually aroused, and her vagina was feeling distinctly moist. 

Corner time was actually something that had played very little role in Lisa's fantasies.  But as she stood there, hands clasped firmly behind her head, denied the relief of rubbing away the pain, the institution took on an importance hitherto unappreciated.  In some way, it seemed absolutely right that the penitent should take time to come to terms with the physical effects of her punishment, in a period of quiet reflection.  She fidgeted uncomfortably, half crossing first one leg and then the other, just trying to gain a little ease from the nagging pain; it did not work.  In the end she was glad she had worn a skirt because at least she did not have tight trousers pinching the welts which she knew must be rapidly developing under her panties.

From another part of the house which was presumably the kitchen, she could hear activity and the clink of cups and saucers.  Joanne was making tea; how civilised.  She had just given Lisa the belting of a lifetime and presently they were going to sit down and take tea like two old friends.

As if to underline the surreal nature of this false normality, Lisa felt a furry sensation rubbing against her legs and looking down, there was a big ginger cat that had come to investigate, or perhaps gloat.  After all, she was not the first punished pupil to stand in the corner, merely the latest in a whole line of raw stinging bottoms.  

It seemed as though she had stood there for hours but it could only have been about ten minutes when Joanne popped her head round the door and said in her kindly voice "Okay dear, your punishment is officially completed.  Come on in the lounge and have a cup of tea."

Lisa put her hands down, immediately grasping her bottom through the material of her skirt.  Oh, it was good to rub it, but unfortunately the relief was only temporary, for the throbbing persisted to the extent that it over-rode any attempt at reduction.  She was going to have to accept that a hard strapping would last considerably longer than a few minutes, not that she was too disappointed by that.

She followed Joanne into the lounge and gingerly sat down in an armchair.  She had obviously read all of the stories about people being unable to sit down after punishment but in her case, although it wasn't comfortable, she was at least able to bear it.  She took her tea and sipped it gratefully.

"Well then dear." said Joanne kindly.  "What did you think of your first real punishment?  Have you any complaints?  You did take it well I must say.  Some of my clients would have made a terrible fuss!" 

How did she feel?  It was difficult to say really.  Sore obviously, but also kind of warm and comforted, as though she had achieved something.  Joanne's compliments made her feel good.  In the end she replied "It hurts a bit, but funnily enough it feels quite pleasant now.  I'm glad you didn't go easy on me."

"No, I certainly did not!" smiled Joanne.  "I have a certain reputation to maintain.  Clients who come to me get the full treatment or none at all.  Some get it harder than others of course.  What you got was the mid-range standard school strapping but double the strokes.  I find that it's a good level to begin with, and then you can always work up to the harder stuff later on."

"You mean that it gets harder?" exclaimed Lisa, astonished.  "Wow!  What I got was plenty thank you!"

Joanne smiled at her and shook her head, as though she found the remarks naive, which of course they were.

"Good heavens, you have no idea.  What you had is usually enough to satisfy the ladies, but the men, dear me; some of them liked to be whipped so hard it bleeds.  I'm not too keen on blood myself and I try to avoid it to be honest.  I only do that for special clients that I know well."

"Well I have no complaints!" smiled Lisa genuinely.  "You whacked me good and proper.  Anyway, I had better go now.  I must have been here an hour."

"Yes you have, but don't worry.  It's nice to have a little chat with the client afterwards.  Would you like a couple more whacks on the house?"  Joanne was smiling but the offer looked genuine.

"Oh no thanks very much!" retorted Lisa, putting her cup down on the table and heading towards the door.  "What I have had is fine.  I don't want to be greedy.  I can always come back for more another time can't I?"

"Of course you can dear.  It has been a pleasure to meet you."

They shook hands and Lisa walked out into the street.  Andrea, her friend was sitting in her car a little further down the road.

"Everything alright?" she asked, as Lisa got in the car.  "Shall be go for a coffee?" 

"It's a nice idea but there is something I have to do at home." replied Lisa  "Can we make it Thursday?"

"Of course we can," said Andrea.  "I will look forward to it.  You can bring me up to speed with all the news."

Lisa smiled.  Perhaps not all the news, she thought to herself.

 

Saucy Sal - A sailors tale

A sailor boy was I on leave

A girl in every town

And once in port I'd waste no time

To pull their knickers down

In London there was little Nell

Near Liverpool lived Nancy

While Bristol harboured Jill and Jane

Who both did take my fancy.

In Plymouth fair I chanced to stray

One morning bright and early

And there I spied a pretty maid

Whose hair was long and curly

“Would you care to step out with me?”

I asked in tone quite pally

“I don’t mind if I do kind sir,”

She said, “My name is Sally.”

“But not today for I must work

Meet me tomorrow night at eight

And if you buy my beer and ale

You surely will enjoy our date

For I am gay and fancy free

And liberal with favour

If you would kindly spank my bum

My normal fee I’ll waver!”

Next day before our rendezvous

Not wishing to be bored

I met with Sue and Katie too

With both of them I scored

Then in the afternoon I met

A girl called Lizzie from the docks

Inside her knickers she me let
Down on the beach, behind some rocks.

At eight o’clock I made my way

Down to the Rose and Thistle

My throat was parched; I ordered ale

With which to whet my whistle

Then through the door behind me stepped

Young Sally for our meeting

Her eyes were flashing wild with rage

She spurned my cheery greeting

Confronting me my saucy Sal

So full of fun and frolics

A vicious oath at me did yell

And kicked me in the bollocks.

“Two timing rat!” she screamed, irate

“I've heard that you’ve been busy

Out dallying with Sue and Kate

And then with my friend Lizzie

“Now piss off back to sea,” she said

“Forget designs upon my bum

And if you come near me again

I’ll go and tell my mum!”

So friends heed warning from this tale

The next time a pretty girl you dates

If time to spare, for goodness sake

Don’t spend it with some of her mates.

Unholy Orders

Brother John the fiery preacher

“Praise the Lord” we hear him yell

Thanks his god in church on Sundays

Visits prostitutes on Mondays

Someone needs to purge their sins

And he is on a mission

For fifty bucks their bums he hires

And from his task he never tires

With leather strap in hand he rants

Pulls their pants down; rubs their bottoms

Orders them across the chair

Nice soft bottoms, pink and bare

Crimson welts appear like magic

Suffer pain to gain salvation

Now the wrath of God they feel

All the better if they squeal

Spare the rod and spoil the child

The scriptures say that, do they not?

Beneath his cassock, brown and flowing

Brother John is stiff and hot

His task on earth seems never-ending

Sure is he of place on high

John will not his duty shirk

No Devil tempt him from his work

“Hush my child” they hear him holler

“Take your pain and save your soul.

Follow Him, His way is best.

Now tell me, which of you is next?”

Song - Ode to the Troll

Tune: The Laughing Policeman

I am a cyber mischief-maker

Some call me a troll

Upsetting all the folks out there

Is my life’s only goal

I haven’t got a girlfriend

And I haven’t got a wife

The only pleasure that I get

Is causing others strife

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha !

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha !

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha !

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha !

I have a nice computer

It connects me to the Net

I like to join in forums

You should see the fun I get

When I wind up all the punters

Question their intelligence

I clutch my sides and laugh with glee

To see them take offence

Chorus

I like to visit spanking sites

They are a bed of riches

Some take life so seriously

It curls me up in stitches

They think somehow that double D’s

A lifestyle not a bra

The only thing I say to that is

Tee-hee-ha-ha-ha!

Chorus

My favourite vids are from guys

Who do their stuff for money

Most of them can’t act for shit

It is intensely funny

I like the spanking models though;

To see them caned is bliss

Although the guys a-whacking them

Are just taking the piss.

Chorus

Some bloggers must have shit for brains

While others are precocious

Many spout a load of crap

Their spelling is atrocious

Who gives a stuff how many times

They got spanked yesterday?

Do me a great big favour mate

And kindly go away

Chorus

You think I might be prejudiced

But it’s not true you see

Gay or straight or black or white

You’re all the same to me

If you want to have an argument

Then I’m the boy to call

Just pay me some attention

And we’ll really have a ball

Chorus (repeat for as long as you like)

Sing along

Tune: Diamonds are a girl's best friend.  (Actually I have to apologise because the lyrics don't fit in with the whole tune since I got two tunes mixed up in my head.  Sorry about that.  I just can't be motivated to change it at the moment so by all means sing along with the first half of each verse and make up the music for the second half like I inadvertantly did!)

A date with a girl can be quite sentimental

But a penis is a boy’s best friend

When it comes down to things that are quite fundamental

In my mind there is no doubt

I get my willy out

I love to caress him and he’ll never complain

He’s a friend for all weathers, be it sunshine or rain

And he’s fun to take with you for a holiday in Spain

Yes a penis is a boy’s best friend

It’s tough on the girls who were born with them missing

And they have to borrow ours instead

The poor little things have to sit down when they’re pissing

But we boys don’t have to care

We wave them in the air

When spanking girls’ bottoms our trousers go tight

If you haven’t got a girl to spank then watching films is alright

Your faithful old chum will keep you company at night

Yes a penis is a boy’s best friend.

(instrumental break)

What fun is to see when a girl gets a caning

And to see her little bum turn red

I reach for my dick because it’s so entertaining

When I see those stripes appear

I come over all queer

I can’t begin to tell you what thoughts they invoke

But I guess somehow my feelings are the same as any other bloke

So I pull out my willy and I give him a stroke

Yes a penis is a boy’s best friend.

LOL Gorillas

"Listen lady, can you keep the noise down a bit?  Some of us are trying to get some sleep!"

 

"Holy Moses is that the time?  I should have been home two hours ago!"