Friday, 19 September 2014

Bucket Lists

I have two bucket lists; a vanilla one which has simple things that I hope to do or see plus a few way out things which I know probably won't happen unless I win the lottery:)

The second one is my spanking bucket list.  So far three on this one...

1. Attending a spanking party though I don't think I would like to be spanked with people watching or by someone else. Can you just attend and not participate?

2. To be spanked on a beach (we haven't found a secluded/deserted one yet)

3. A bare bottom spanking in the woods. 



We have woods by us but they are very well used.  I remember one time when we were walking there, P took my hand and guided me through the bushes completely off track and over to where a large diameter tree had been cut down by Forestry and made a good seat. Now if he'd just gone ahead and put me across his knee or over the tree and spanked me it would have worked out just fine, me apprehensive about being caught yet turned on by the prospect.

But that didn't happen. P got out his Swiss army knife, must have planned this, very romantic, not, went over and cut a branch, trimmed it, came and took his place on the tree trunk and motioned me to get across his lap. I did but three strokes into my backside the branch broke, so up I was ordered while P went to cut another branch, he came over with a thicker one, supple with tiny green buds which he quickly trimmed off, this looked promising, the sting of the broken branch even through my jeans had a nice feel, we hadn't been arrested by Forest Rangers, my confidence was growing, I could imagine what the branch would feel like bare-bum 
but we were disturbed by the sound of people with dogs, obviously didn't go deep enough into the woods.

Do you have a spanking bucket list?

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

Smile of the Day 1949

Spotted on eBay.

Ronnie
xx

Monday, 15 September 2014

Ruined Orgasm got me into trouble

I was flopped like a rag doll across my husband's lap the other day after a particularly lengthy and vigorous spanking. I was, you might say, spanked out. Actually drained of 'spankness', my backside throbbing to almost numbness but the warmth inside making me want to sleep, really, I could have had it not been for my husband's impatience. I didn't even have the sex imperative driving me, I was at peace and drifting until my husband told me to get on my knees.

I noted the bulge in his trousers as I slid down, he had dealt with me expertly and clearly believed his expertise deserved some reward, something I'm rarely in disagreement with and even though I wasn't fussy about sex, I whimpered at the prospect of having it in my mouth as I unzipped him. It must have wakened a devilish streak in me and as I pulled his underwear down and tugged at his trousers to give me some wriggle room, and saw how much reward he needed, I decided to be really naughty. I hovered closely over it, let saliva drip from my mouth onto him and trickle down the shaft, lightly flicked my tongue against his glans and licked tears of shiny precum, my hand clutched his balls which I felt tighten, ooh this was lovely and so fast, then I felt his hips raise and his muscles stretch and his hand moved to my head and I had to push back against it as I withdrew and became a spectator with just my one hand steadily holding his balls while his cock tried desperately to find anything other than air as it spurted its gooey load, landing on his trousers and falling back over itself as the spasms diminished. All the while him saying my name and gripping me as a drowning man must, desperate for my intervention which didn't happen.

He lay back, his cock was still hard and twitching. I was smiling. "Why the fuck....why the fuck.." were his words, he's normally more articulate than that.

I just leaned forward and licked a milky dollop from his belly and told him he better get a damp cloth for his trousers. I think it was my cheek that snapped him out of his stupor, he shot forward, told me what a wicked girl I was, I could tell he had anger, frustration, humour and bewilderment milling inside is head, he decided the best thing to do was spank me. Again. And he did, he pulled me across his lap, retrieved his paddle from the floor and walloped me good and hard, christ it hurt after what he'd already given me but did it feel good!

After a few minutes, which was all it took to have me yelping my head off, he lifted me off his lap, stood up with me and bent me across the little desk we keep in our home office. He lifted my shirt tail out of the way and his cock, which was still bloody enormous and wet with its own ejaculant, was immediately pressing hard between my cheeks, it was so slippery I thought it was going into my bum hole and so I pushed back for him, but he found me lower down and rammed me forcefully, it made me cry out and he made satisfyingly deep groans as he did it again and again, his hips slapping against my scorching bottom each time. He came with a roar and my own orgasm made a frightening squeal and made me shudder like a dog does when it comes out of water. I stayed there panting, I wanted another but didn't get it, I could feel his cock retreating and when it plopped out of me he smacked my bottom playfully and said "Let that be a lesson to you". 

Oh it was a lesson alright, P, but I'm not sure whether it's taught me not to do it again or to repeat it:)

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx

Friday, 12 September 2014

Ira's introduction to her Tutor and his Cane

A period story for you by P.N. Dedeaux (quite long one).....

‘What do you propose to use on her, in particular?’asked Lord Usher.

‘Cane, birch and, when necessary, the leather, replied my tutor. I’ve seen plenty of birch about here already. She shall put them up herself. Excellent training, thinking about it first.’

‘Well, don’t cut her too harshly for her first’, laughed Lady Julia, looking down into my face. ‘She’s a green girl, even if she has been to the stables once or twice for the crop.’

‘Oh I don’t doubt but that she can go a few. A sound swishing never killed anyone. In any case, she’ll just have to get used to it, that’s all.’

‘Faith’, said Lord Usher with ever-brighteningeye, ‘I admit I shouldn’t care to be in the bill to you with Ira, for all the tea in China. Do you mean to make it Fridays, as it was for us?’

‘Us too’, said Lady Julia.

‘As it was, so it shall be’, confirmed Mr. Pelham on a nod. ‘Friday after dinner.’

‘The deuce but these rods look licky. What are they exactly?’ ‘Willows and, for serious work, a malacca.’

‘Let me see them, old chap.’ The tutor surrendered the bundle of fasces, from which Lord Usher selected one. Its slippery supple quality as he flicked the air with it made my skin go goosey all over. The thing was pregnant with pain.

‘Understand they’re introducing these all over. Quite the thing. In the schools, I mean.’

[This was the time when the cane was replacing the birch as the preferred means of corporal punishment in British schools. it soon became adopted by traditional households of the day too.]

‘Yes’, agreed Mr. Pelham, re-accepting the wand and doubling its great length almost in two, ‘Rugby (founded in 1567 and one of the oldest independent schools in Britain) has quite gone over now, I hear.’

‘Some say they are even more cruel.’ ‘Than the birch? I have heard the complaint. Trouble is, a birching takes too long. If you hit hard, and I like to, you can slow a swishing to as few as three or four a minute, with maximum pain. As you may imagine, this impedes class work. For the classroom these canes are admirable. They cut sharp with but a few.’

‘But don’t they bruise terribly?’ asked Julia, frowning.

‘Acceptably. But that adds to the desire to avoid repetition. A swishing on a boy or girl’s bum already tender from the stick can be very salutary indeed. In my last job I started off by giving my two charges six of the best before breakfast each morning for the whole of their first week. You should have seen the result. Supple as gloves in no time. No, Ma’am, you must never let up when breaking a young’un into harness.’

‘And I doubt if you do, Mr. Pelham’, she said with another chesty shiver.

He stared at her steadily an instant. ‘No. I don’t. What presumes to be weaker must be hardened all the more in the intenser fire. So come, let’s see what we have to deal with here. Step forward, Miss.’

The cane tapped a place on the carpet and I took up my stance there, dry-throated.

‘Ever tried the cane?’

‘No, sir.’

This, it will be observed, was my first vocal declamation to date in the scene.

‘Nor does she, Plum’, guffawed Lord Usher, ‘appear over-anxious to make the acquaintance.’

‘It is no sparer of persons. Turn round and let’s look at you.’ My skirt swung over my filling thighs as I obeyed.

‘Lean over with your hands on your knees. Hm. Let’s say she may wear skirts after lessons at noon are over, but they will have to be briefer than this. I require a complete consciousness of her person at all times. Now, girl, from me you’ll always get it on the bum.’

With a little contemptuous twitch, or flicker, of his stick the tutor flipped up my skirt behind. My pretty slip followed. Cream-coloured silk bloomers, so tight they creased where I creased and dimpled where I dimpled, too, were all that obscured my robustly-parted buttocks for the three pairs of eyes watching, and I flushed with unrequited shame. 


‘Now touch your toes’, said that voice I was already growing to fear intensely. ‘And now’, he said, when I had done so, ‘stand up and this time, girl, when I say touch your toes bend over as if your life depended on it. Mind now, I want your head on your knees. If you can’t put your palms on the floor with straight legs in two weeks I’ll have you doing 
special exercises for two hours a day. Over!’

‘That’s better’, said Lord Usher, when I had lunged like a hinge. ‘That’s what I call a tight bum.’

‘Head right down now, Miss. Pull over with your arms.’ The cane tapped one flesh side. 


‘Tighter still. Try now.’

‘I’m trying, sir’, I puffed. ‘Well, try harder.’

I strained again. This time as he approached I was aware that the thin silk perfectly outlined the fatty purse pushed back by the posture, between my legs. There was nothing I could do, however; I could not diminish its appearance, and indeed I knew all too well that its divided nature was perfectly apparent. I resolved not to move under his ministrations, whatever they might be.

‘This is a good solid girl-bum’, he pronounced. ‘I could wish for more separation for the stick, which is an impact instrument, but there is no doubt she can go a few. No danger of touching bone, the coccyx is even well covered. I suspect it will be most tender low down, in the gluteal fold, deliciously ripe I'd say.’

‘You are very exact’, said Lady Julia.

‘Now, Miss, stand up. Take off your drawers and let’s see your skin.’

‘No!’

I recoiled with a startled gasp, frightened by my own refusal as much as anything. There was a long silence.

Finally, flexing his wand, the tutor said: ‘Is no the only word you know? I am afraid it is one to eradicate from your lexicon so far as I am concerned, as rapidly as possible.’ ‘And which will cost her?’ insinuated Lord Usher, avidly enough, with a loose smile.

‘Six of the best last thing tonight’, said the tutor, still staring at me.

‘A hard start, forsooth. But it is as well to get off on the right foot, early.’

‘I seldom give less than six. Even with the malacca.’

Lady Julia smiled kindly. ‘Poor old Ira, I am acquainted with  the malacca. I shall come and say good-night to you when it’s over.’

‘Refusal to obey an order is a serious offence’, continued the tutor. ‘It is a Commission of a grave nature constituting Insubordination.’

‘I will repair it, sir’, I said, reaching under my skirt. But he merely shook his head.

‘Too late. You will put it down in the Demerit Book I shall set out in the hall tomorrow. It will be left open there for all to see, and the account settled each Friday.’

Lord Usher gave a nervous laugh.

‘Severe as ever, eh, Plum. Settled by the twigs, I assume?’

‘Insubordination is six with the birch, yes.’

I had a strong desire to leave and, dropping a profound curtsey, asked if my presence were further required and, if it were not, that I might be excused. ‘Mind now, Ira. Six strokes of the cane across your naked buttocks.’

‘Yes, sir.’ ‘You may go.’

The rest of that day was devoted to my preparations.

Somehow, I know not how, Mrs. Wilson the Housekeeper soon got wind of my impending punishment, and that afternoon she delightedly dilated on the event: ‘Springy as an eel, yet hard as steel at the tip. He’s already sent down for some size, he has, to stiffen ’em up a bit, you see. Oh I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes tonight for a hundred sixpences, Miss Highhat. I’ve seen young men of eighteen and more blubber after a meeting with canes like that. They sting like fury. At first it’s like a hot oil bum, then like a white-hot sword drawn across your bum, and then the true fire starts to mount. A good cut is at its worst fifteen seconds later – when ’e comes at ye again. And again. Arter three you’ll be wishing that big impudent bottom of your’n were half its size. Oh I’d give anything to see it, I would. It’s the best thing ever for ye, Ira.’

I lay on the bed that night, waiting for my dread visitation. I had left my dinner and fled upstairs, where I had stripped at once and bedded. I put on my flimsy nightdress but left my silk stockings and boots, unsure of how I would be required to present myself for punishment.

As I lay on my side with the light still on I stared into the fire which Lilly always lit for me,and I tried to remember what it had been like in the stables. A hot oil bum, that was all. My fingers went under my nightgown and ran over the warm puddings of my hinder halves, soon to be thrashed by a pitiless round cane. Then my fingers strayed to my front, where I was embarrassed to find my clitoris swollen and very sensitive.

The urge to masturbate - a newly discovered but strictly forbidden nocturnal pleasure in which I frequently indulged - was very strong indeed, but then there were sounds downstairs, a slammed door, and I heard that purposeful tread which was soon to haunt my nightmares.

Mr. Pelham had steel tips to the heels of his boots and he walked as he did everything, as if he meant it. My stomach turned. For a second I again doubted that I could hold my water and thoughts of masturbation fled - at least for now.

He strode in briskly, holding a soullessly long, horribly whippy, thin, yellow cane, shut the door behind him and said,

‘Turn out.’

I jumped off the bed but for a moment he did not deign to look at me, moving about the room touching and objects with the glittering tip of his stick.

‘Next time you are ordered punishment at bedtime you wait outside the door, in the passage, understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘But at least you are dressed correctly for it. Turning his pallid gaze upon me and pointing the cane at my nightdress he said, ‘Lift it right up.’

This time I could not obey quickly enough. My nightie was up and I was back on the bed in a flash. But the man’s eyes did not drop, nor so much as stir to my revealing nudity. My bush was by now thick and firm up my belly and in a wide bar across it. My bottom hole was pouting and puckered. But if I blushed he did not. He read my mind at once. ‘You’ll stop this silly flushing, girl. You aren’t an object of desire to me. You’re a pair of buttocks that need to be punished. All I’m interested in is making certain you regret your action …’

‘I do already, sir’, I assured him.

‘Don’t interrupt me, Ira. And I won’t repeat again in a hurry. Now stick out your bottom, feet well apart, and put your hands behind your head. Lean forward to widen yourself completely and let your cheeks hang quite limp. I want them relaxed for this first introduction. I’m going to take you full across the fat this time.’

I felt the cold of the cane in its measuring tap and he went on gently, ‘A little further still. Now this is the first time I’ve thrashed you, Ira, and I want you to tell yourself that every time I do so it will hurt more than you think. I’ll never let you off lightly, ever. You’re going to get the rod again, and again, and again, until you’re properly trained and in the right frame of mind. Six strokes for now.’

At once the air soughed behind me, a sound completed by a fleshy smack. A hot oil burn was what I told myself as that cane bit round my hanging cheeks. No more nor a hot oil bum, PLEASE! But Mrs. Wilson was right once more. The pain drove up like liquid fire. This sting was incomparably superior, more subtle, than the bruising strap, sharper than Mistress's crop. I gasped and perked.

Thwllk!

The same meaty whack told me he had cut again– two! This time I hissed, hopping in place. The spot struck by the tip was unbelievably painful. There was no withstanding it. I writhed.

Thwlllk!

The third long, almost lethargic motion sent the stick lashing round my bum. There was a mirror opposed to me on the other wall and who was this I saw within it? A girl with elbows back, hands at nape, her face scarlet and writhen together, eyes squeezed up, the torso forward and her ripeness of belly receding into a darkness below. Come on, I wanted to beg him now in my extremity, get it over with, give me the next. But the waiting became too much and I grabbed back.

‘Get into position.’

‘But it hu-uuuurts … so terribly.’ ‘Three to come. If you reach behind again, I shall cane your hands and then continue.’ I endured four, and five, though my boots might have been treading some blistering treadmill. Again the flame burnt too deep and I grasped my hotly-wealed posteriors as if a horde of hornets had just been let loose there. Then came a rapping crack and I squealed as he skinned my knuckles, dancing with pain. one fist to my mouth. Somehow I resumed my place and swallowed the last on a cry. After which I sat my raging bottom on the bed, my hands under it, rocking and weeping with pain. The cane was incomparably stricter than I had conceived it to be.

‘Oh, sir … you didn’t need … to be as severe.’ I sobbed.

He put on his jacket which for the first time I saw he had doffed for the task. ‘It would be as well for you to learn my regulations concerning correction by heart, Ira. Any flinching off means taking the cut over. Moving out of position, two extra. Failure to wait for permission to rise after the last cut, three extra. You were not to know about permission but you will have to do much better under the rod than this, if you are to enter Miss Ponsonby’s institution in a year. She requires total stoicism. You moved twice, thus meriting four extra strokes.’

‘Please, sir, please … you can’t mean … uuu, you punish so hard!’ ‘However, as this was your first essay at my hands, I shall be unusually lenient. You will be permitted to take the four strokes at start of work tomorrow.’

‘Sir!’ I protested, squirming. ‘I am but a new girl, I didn't know...’

He nodded at the door. ‘A new girl indeed and who is going to get four good strokes across the bum at nine sharp tomorrow. It is now you are learning your lesson, when the sting is at its liveliest, and you can promise that saucy bottom of yours that what I gave you now what will be child’s play to what you’ll have on the bill Friday night, should you disobey again. Moreover, I shall profit by the fact of your sex to which allusion I am grateful. I shall not hesitate to set you on a stool with your knickers round your ankles, and your bottom. on display for all to see servants male and female alike – any time it’s had to be treated in earnest. You’ve a strong and wilful character and I’m not likely to let up an instant until it's corrected. Goodnight madam.’

When he had gone I recovered somewhat, my sobbing eased and moving stiff-legged to a mirror I inspected the marks made by that mercilessly whippy implement. The weals were dark and hardening, plump and lumpy and full on the right. My wondering fingers traced one place where three seemed to have fallen together. How had the poor skin, so contused, not broken? Heavens, you didn’t half catch it, I thought, staring at those rounds, I had been well and truly walloped and due four more in the morning. I unlaced my boots and went to bed, laying on my belly with those swollen fruits in my hands. Now that the worst was over I felt a curious glow again all over, a sense of fulfilment in having been so well-whipped, and come through. My hungry fingers longed to stray to the front of my nightdress again, but I knew Her Ladyship would be in to bid me goodnight and if she caught sight of such impropriety I knew I would be for her crop on the morrow too.


Not read any of his before. Did you like it?

Have a fun weekend.

Ronnie
xx

Wednesday, 10 September 2014

Smile of the Day


A lot of our politicians could do with being spanked.

Ronnie
xx