Traditional vs Modern

Well which is best? I'm not taking a side or drawing any conclusion or trying to make a case either way. What got me thinking was the other day I was surfing and came across a couple of new blogs (spanking related of course) and just loved the style of writing and the subjects covered, they were fresh and punchy and observant and daring, romantic too and they clearly attracted like minded readers, I could tell from the comments and followers. The blog rolls linked to similar stuff, much of which I hadn't seen before.

I enjoyed them so much I thought right, must change my wallpaper, colour scheme, template etc....change my writing style too, shorter lines, shorter posts:)  But then I thought about it and decided no I wouldn't do any of those things (well I might do one day but not because of). Why? Because if I did, and if we all did, we'd all be the same and that wouldn't do at all. There's room for everyone and that's what keeps it interesting. Still, I was definitely impressed with what I saw so if you detect any subtle or, worse, unsubtle, changes in my online behaviour give me a quick slap (metaphorically that is) and restore me to my default style.

Having said all that I don't have a spanking to report. Sigh. So I'm reproducing a story I posted a few years back, it's set in a time gone by, in a large country household with domestic staff, lady of the house and of course master of the house, titled naturally. It's old fashioned stuff, but not any less erotic for that:-    


Lady Barclay stood in front of her husband's desk, it was huge as befitted a man of his station. Lord Barclay sat the other side, upright, stern, finished signing some papers before placing them in a drawer, desk top clear save the small black and white portrait of the two of them on their wedding day. He looked up at his wife, she was still in her jodhpurs after her morning ride, she was a handsome woman, make any man proud he'd often thought, but he would not have her usurping his authority or abusing the privileges her position as his wife afforded.

''Penelope,'' he said, a bad sign as Penny was his preference, ''I've called you to my study because I've heard reports that yesterday an incident occurred with one of the grooms, the new boy, Tobias I believe, and that you saw fit to intervene on my behalf and take certain disciplinary action. Would you care to elucidate?'' Lady Barclay shifted uneasily from foot to foot, dinner had passed uneventful last night, their guests had gone, she'd thought of the incident as private, she doubted if the boy Tobias would have raised the matter, perhaps then one of her friends had tittered innocently to her husband and he had seen fit to inform Lord Barclay. No matter for now, it was done and an honest answer was required. Lord Barclay's study was no place for untruths; she had learned before their marriage, in their courting period when she'd had her backside reddened more than once, that her husband to be was not a man to trifle with.

Lady Barclay summarised the incident, making sure everything she said was true but not recounting everything which had taken place, she had no idea how much her husband already knew. There had been an incident with the new boy, Mr Stevens had reported it to her and that he had refused discipline, she had decided the matter was serious and in her husband's absence to have the boy brought before her, confront him with dismissal or a summary flogging from her, the latter of which he had reluctantly accepted.

''I'd heard as much, Penelope, and it's as well you've told me candidly. But you know there are strict rules in this household, they are in place for the benefit of us all and I won't have you going off and flouting them. You know well enough that Stevens is permitted to administer spankings at certain levels, but other than that staff are referred to me unconditionally where corporal punishment is required.'' He spoke as he rose and turned away from his desk to the walnut cabinet in the corner of his study, where he kept a small selection of canes.''I'm going to thrash you for undermining my authority as master of this house,'' he removed a straight cane with a bound leather handle and closed the cabinet door,''and I hope it will make you think twice before taking matters into your own hands again.''

Lord Barclay turned from the cabinet and faced his wife.''You know the procedure, madam, across my desk if you will.'' Penelope felt her stomach somersault and her knees weaken as her husband approached. She lowered herself until the smooth polished edge of the desk nudged into the tops of her thighs and then stretched fully across, reaching the opposite edge with her fingers and pulling herself as far as she could. Her high waisted jodhpurs moulded to the womanly globes of her bottom, accentuating the fullness of her cheeks and separating them provocatively. Under different circumstances her husband could have been inclined to mount her but he had very different responsibilities to perform, no less intense but certainly more painful. For his wife at least.

She felt his hand rest briefly on the small of her back pressing her further against the wood and inlaid leather of the desk. ''Relax your legs, let your weight fall into the desk top,'' her husband ordered. She responded, knowing that as soon as he saw her thigh and buttock muscles release he would lay on the first stroke, she went to say something in mitigation of what she'd done but the dreadful swishing sound of the cane in flight told her she was too late. She gasped as the initial sting registered, the shock temporarily anaesthetising her from the pain, long enough for the second stroke to land wickedly close, followed by the deep burn overlapping from the first stroke, causing her to cry out from the shock of pain invading her flesh and fear of what was to come. Four more strokes followed in rapid succession and had her squirming against the solid desk, her knuckles white from her grip on the far edge, determined not to rise until told.

''Get up, madam, turn and face me.'' his voice was flat, he stood barely a pace away, cane resting across his hands.''Head up, let me see that pretty face.'' She looked him squarely in the face, her eyes were moist, hers legs quivering from the after shock of the beating, she desperately wanted to rub or to move around or both.

''Now, Penelope, have you omitted anything about the incident which happened yesterday, anything you may have forgotten or considered unimportant, hardly worth the telling?'' Oh God she felt weak, how could he possibly know? Did he know? Was he bluffing to test her? She couldn't imagine that any of her friends would have betrayed her knowingly, and surely the boy would not have complained about the lewd act she'd made him perform. ''Sir, everything I've told you was true I swear it.'' she said.

''That was not my question and you know it,'' Lord Barclay's tone indicated some impatience, ''my question invited you to make a clean breast of things. Is it not true that you had your friends in attendance when the incident was reported, and is it not true that you allowed them to witness your interrogation and subsequent punishment of the boy from the open door of the adjoining room?'' ''And is it not true, madam, that you humiliated the boy in addition to the thrashing you meted out, by probing his sexual experience making him answer questions totally unrelated to the matter at hand? In order to amuse, titillate and show off in front of your friends?'' His cane was tapping impatiently against his thigh, his temper was up, that she could see. But mercifully it seemed he was unaware of the act she'd had the boy carry out so exquisitely in his innocence and naivety.

''It is true, husband, but I beg you to see it not in the worst light, my thought was to act swiftly to uphold the discipline you have always so evenly maintained, it was a matter of expedience to remove my guests to the next room, their amusement or otherwise was of no concern to me. The questions I subjected the boy to were just to take him down a peg as he exhibited a most unseemly pride, even after his thrashing, almost challenging to my perception.''
''All the more reason then, madam, for you to leave such business to me. But from what I've heard the afternoon was more of an entertainment than you would have me know. I will not have my staff so abused. Nor will I have my wife conceal or withhold information from me. Lower your breeches Penelope, I believe you caned the boy twice, I shall cane you twice also and you shall receive your second caning on the bare, it will deepen both sting and humiliation and be a lasting lesson to you.''

Lady Barclay hadn't the stomach or conviction to further argue her case, she had erred, she should be grateful the full extent of her corruption was apparently not known. She unfastened and lowered her jodhpurs, turned and prostrated herself without commotion. She heard him move close behind her and then his thumbs hooked into the waistband of her satin knickers. ''These too, madam, when I say on the bare I mean it.'' She shuddered as they were pulled down roughly to her thighs, then the tail of her silk shirt flipped up over her waist causing a brief whisper of cool air. She sensed her husband stand aside, she whimpered instinctively anticipating what was to come and then the white hot streak of pain seared into her flesh this time atop the welts she'd already earned, and she cried out. The second stroke landed mid cry, it swiftness and severity shocking every sense she had and twisting her cry into a grotesque guttural scream which resonated with wild fluctuations through three further strokes when he paused, allowing his wife time to recover her senses and absorb the collective pain which was undoubtedly suffusing through every nerve in her writhing derriere. He relished for a brief moment the prospect of spearing that lush and sensuous part of his wife's anatomy, the ultimate mastery he mused briefly.

''Penelope, I trust you'll remember this the next time you're tempted to take matters inappropriately into your own hands for the spectacle and amusement of your friends.'' Lady Barclay was sobbing with great heaving breaths, her tears flowing freely, before she could muster a contrite response her husband delivered the final stroke of the cane, landing wickedly across the lower fleshiest parts of her cheeks. Lady Barclay's 'yes sir...' mutated into a piercing unintelligible scream as the pain from this harshest stroke further outraged her livid senses. Lord Barclay watched as the quivering bottom, now purple and red, recovered from the stroke, the flesh refilling the indent caused by his cane, his wife's scream subsided to heavy sobs and gulping breaths, he walked to the corner cabinet and replaced the cane shutting the door with a precise clip and then strode to the leather winged chair where he sat heavily, an action his wife was unlikely to be doing for some time.

Penelope had not looked up but she knew it was over, she lay sobbing, her face wet against the tears which had collected on the green leather inlay of the desk. ''When you're ready, madam, you may get up and restore your modesty, I shall order tea for us in the drawing room but first you will attend to me as my wife and we shall put behind us this unfortunate matter. Penelope heard the fly on her husband's twill trouser unzip and the leather chair creak as he adjusted position. She stood slowly, her bottom flesh was tight, it felt swollen and raging from the assault, she bent to retrieve her knickers and breeches, winced as she pulled the delicate satin into place and then spluttered into renewed sobbing as the unyielding fabric of her jodhpurs, now two sizes too small, encased her buttocks in their own heat after a painful struggle to re fit them. She stood a while. When she turned to her husband she was crying and sniffling spasmodically, her face flushed and shiny on one side from the pool of tears on the desk. Lord Barclay thought she looked magnificent, she had learned her lesson he was quite sure, and now she would demonstrate her contrition and acquiescence.

When Lady Barclay knelt at her husband's lap and released his manhood from the confines of the heavy material it lunged forward, the purple cock head glistening, drops of pearly pre cum rolling from its eye. Penelope stretched painfully forward and took it dutifully, submissively, perhaps even gratefully, between her lips whilst her husband tenderly wiped away the tears which trailed down her cheeks.

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx