The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (6)

Mrs. Cleanknockers released my hair with a contemptuous flick. “Mr. Steedstiff. You heard the young lady. I trust you capable of breaking this spirited filly to bridle?” His cock fell out of Louisa’s mouth with a loud ‘plop’ accompanied by much hacking and wheezing. I felt a bit stung by Mrs. Cleanknockers disdain and my pride rose to the occasion. Heedless of the treacherous currents that swirled between our two tormentors, I asked, “Mr. Steedstiff. I wish to learn the proper technique of throating. If you would be so kind as to instruct me, I would be ever so grateful.”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (5)

“I’d like to try throating, ma’am. It looks like fun to me.” As an attempt to draw fire, my ill-advised witticism was wildly successful. Not so much my first attempt, although with practice, I did become good enough to earn grudging praise. That was months in the future, for now, I paid the price for my stupidity. Mrs. Cleanknockers grabbed my knotted hair and pulled back until I had an upside-down view of her stern face. “Dear, Ruby. Let me congratulate you on being the first girl I’ve ever trained to volunteer for cock sucking. I will grant your wish.”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (4)

“I certainly enjoy it, Mrs. Cleanknockers, as you well know,” Mr Steedstiff replied with an energetic thrust of his hips. Louise sputtered and tensed in her bondage. A particularly loud retch drew Mrs. Cleanknockers ire. “I see you have been neglecting your exercises, Louisa,” she barked at the hapless girl. “I will so inform his lordship of your inept performance.” Being as she couldn’t speak with a mouthful of cock, only I, in close proximity to the action, could see the distress on her visage. A pang of sympathy smote my conscience. Once more I rashly spoke out of turn.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Flashback Friday: “The Blind Date”

This week for Flashback Friday, I offer a tail about a blind date that leads to a discovery. Originally published, Sept. 17th, 2009.

Mary woke the morning after the night she never wanted to end. Robert – the blind date – had arrived precisely at 7:30 pm and she, being a woman, was not ready. It was her prerogative she told him politely. All I need is a little freshening up and we can leave. Robert put his foot down. It is my prerogative to deal with your lateness so it does not become habitual. Mary suddenly found herself spun round, bent over and a hard hand swiftly spanking her bottom through her pleated wool skirt. Ten smacks later, upright and in shock, Robert told her he was leaving in five minutes, with or without her.

Three minutes and twenty-five seconds later, Mary was on Robert’s arm. The only freshening up she managed to do was a change of knickers. Plain, wet white ones for a black, lace thong… plus several spares in case he spanked her again… or not. Robert opened the passenger door to his gleaming Lexus and told her to wait. Squeezing her chin in his hand he dictated the evening’s schedule. Rather than bridling at his dominance, Mary returned his gaze boldly and said yes, sir. Robert smirked, good girl. That remains to be seen thought Mary. As if hearing her willful thoughts, Robert watched her carefully as she slid into the car, legs together as a lady ought. Nodding with approval, he drove off into the sunset towards their destiny.

It was a restaurant called Sunset Destiny.

The valet opened the doors and waited for Robert to escort his lady inside. Mary bit her lip and ever so daringly flashed just the hint of black lace as her long legs swung to the pavement. The valet jumped in the driver’s seat and Robert told him to wait. Mary, he ordered, turn around and place your hands on the boot and thrust your bottom out. Mary obeyed, blushing to her roots and locked eyes with the stunned valet. Fifteen harder smacks later, the car was gone and so was Mary’s heart.

The food was excellent, the service was impeccable and one glass of wine turned into two and then three. Robert made no demands, no observations and no threats: only witty and broad conversation, lots of smoldering glances and some daring footsie under the table. Mary was determined to push all Robert’s buttons: baiting a bear be damned, Robert was hers no matter the price. For someone who’d never been spanked prior to this evening, his mastery was flaming a conflagration that threatened to consume her soul. It was all she could do not to climb on the table and beg for his cock. She fanned her face and excused herself. The spare knickers were calling urgently.

The same valet rushed Robert’s car to the entrance, received his fifty-dollar tip and waited eagerly for a repeat performance. He was not disappointed. Mary, slightly tipsy, carelessly flopped into the passenger seat revealing to Robert’s disapproving eyes, a flash of pink. Wet, glistening pink. Mary smiled guilelessly. Robert hauled her out and flung her over the warm bonnet. Her bottom was suddenly exposed to the cool evening air and any who chanced to look. Twenty very hard spanks rang out in the silent courtyard. The sound of flesh on flesh ringing off the stone walls drew the intense interest of every patron.

Where are your knickers? In my purse… several dry pairs. Robert reached in and grabbed a pair. Mary remained bent over and nude from the waist down. She felt him squat down, she shivered, the impulse to submit was now overwhelming. She didn’t care about the audience, she didn’t care about the juices running down her thighs, she wanted to be taken, branded by her newfound master. Robert touched an ankle, she raised a foot and he slid the knickers over one and then the other. Raising them to calf level, he ordered her to pull them up. No, stay bent over and don’t you dare drop your skirt while you apologize to all who witnessed your disgrace.

At her apartment, she asked him in: for a ‘nightcap’. She offered herself. Begged and pleaded. Robert informed her he did not have sex on a first date. However, he was very displeased with her behavior. I know, said Mary. What must I do to atone? Strip naked and bend over the arm of your leather couch. Mary shed her clothes like rain in a desert and presented her faintly marked hindquarters in a classic pose. Forty extremely hard spanks rocked her naughty backside and when it was over, to Mary’s sorrow, Robert bade her stand, hands behind her head. He looked her up and down, noting her arousal in her face, neck, breasts and genitals.

I will pick you up at 7:00 pm tomorrow. You will be dressed and waiting for me: on your knees, in the foyer. While you service me and swallow my seed, I expect you to be remembering this evening. Is that all, sir? No dear, Mary. I wish a full report, in writing, of your masturbatory exploits whence I depart soon. I demand at least six orgasms from you this evening or you will face the wrath of my cane. Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!

Of course, you’ll be caned either way.

Robert kissed Mary firmly on her quivering lips, his hands finally roaming freely over her back and tender bottom. He slipped a finger over her anus and into her sopping slit. She came in a shattering wave of pleasure. That doesn’t count, darling. Good night and sleep well.

Submission without consent or choice is abuse

Three of my friend missy’s recent posts caught my eye.
“A Need for Domination”
“A Need for submission”
“Humiliation”

“People always are fixated on the body and forget that the mind is the ultimate sexual organ.”

That above was my comment on the humiliation post. She points out that for her, being Dominated helps her get into a submissive state, more than simply being submissive and waiting for Dominance.

She also writes about the roles of women in society, and how, in her words, her submissiveness is “letting the side down to others” who feel that being a feminist means never submitting to the patriarchal power of tradition.

My contention has always been that a submissive woman is a feminist because she is able and willing to choose submission on her own terms. It takes a strong and confident woman to ask to be spanked by her partner, male or female, even it she’s shaking and trembling inside with fear of rejection.

The flip side of course, and what gets the spanko community in trouble with the vanilla world, is because in real life, men dominate females everyday in horrific ways. From a wolf whistle on the street, to innuendos and touching in the workplace, to outright rape, violence in the home and murder. Many people cannot separate consensual spanking and domestic discipline with abuse and neglect by predatory males.

There is no simple answer unfortunately, when entire countries and religions are built around the systematic and systemic degradation of human beings who happen to have a vagina instead of a penis. Whether it is female genital mutilation, child marriage, honor killings, lack of education, healthcare, economic and political opportunities; there is a real and global-wide problem with the way women are treated by men.

The fact that I can write this and read missy’s posts about His Lordship dominating and humiliating her with and by her consent, should draw praise, not condemnation from people who should be focused on the real abusive situations, not peeping into the lives of those feminists who choose to submit.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 (Part 3)

Before it vanished like morning dew in the hot sun, for a brief moment, her face held a mixture of loathing, bitterness and anger directed at Mr. Steedstiff. From where I knelt I felt caught between two adversaries intent on besting one another in feats-of-arms. The moment passed and Mrs. Cleanknockers regained her typical hauteur. “To answer your impertinent question, Ruby, all girls must learn to throat their partners. I’m told men find cock swallowing to be amongst the Seven Wonders of the World.” Her bright voice held a brittle edge. “Isn’t that correct, Mr. Steedstiff.” He smirked and winked.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

Wanted to let you know, that this sudden plot twist of antagonistic feelings between Mrs. Cleanknockers and Mr. Steedstiff was completely unexpected. If I don’t explore this further, it is because I am writing this strictly from Ruby’s POV.

Never too late to take the plunge

Resolutions never seemed to work. An arbitrary date in any event, the ritual of adding another year was often depressing. When was the last time they stayed up until midnight? There was a good reason no rock band was called ‘The Ravages of Time’.
Deborah Cantel – Deb to her friends – and sweetie to her husband, avoided mirrors on general principles.
“No today, Deb, today is a new start.”
In the full-length closet mirror she tried her best to see what her husband adored.
“Face? Meh. Tits – saggy, tummmy – wobbly, bum – plump; all-in-all, Deb, you need help, girl.”
She picked up the sheet of paper and went over her list one last time. “I sure hope Josh understands this.” She grimaced at her reflection and tossed off a mock salute.

Josh Cantel was concerned. The holidays were always stressful for them both, but his wife Deb normally carried the bulk of the responsibilities in terms of family logistics. The year however, between the crazy work schedules and school breaks, he’d decided that the usual trip to his parents for Christmas, would instead be a kid’s only extended New Year’s visit. If it went well, and so far all reports were good, then Deb’s parents would host next year.
The house was amazingly quiet the past few days, the normal exhaustion after serving in retail hell from 8 to 6, was tempered by the knowledge they didn’t have to sneak in a quickie and keep a lid on the noise.
But Deb had been subdued. She claimed she missed the kids. To Josh, she was unusually preoccupied and spent excessive time online. Not that she turned down his overtures, but… her responses seemed feigned at times.

If there was one constant emotion Deb had felt – did feel – throughout all their dating and marriage, it was guilt. Josh deserved a better woman, a better wife and a better lover unburdened by self-doubt and loathing. His compliments bounced right off her thick internal walls.
“How’s the game?”
“It’s alright.”
Deb watched silently until the next commercial break.
“Honey? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. What’s up, sweetie?”
“Without the sound please.”
Josh pressed the mute button.
“I made some resolutions this year, again, and based on past efforts, I doubt I’ll reach February without giving up.”
They watched an annoying dancing elf pitch the latest sale.
“I hate that guy,” Josh muttered.
“I don’t know, honey, I thought you looked kinda cute dressed up as the company spokes-elf.”
“Watch it, Deb,” he growled.
Deb shivered, “I like it when you’re all stern and gruff with me.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “It makes me believe you find me attractive.”
“I do find you attractive, sweetie. You know that.”
She shrugged. “It’s me, not you. I hate my body.”
“Come on, not that again. We’ve talked about this how many times? You’re a beautiful, sexy, smart woman and I love you even more today than ever.”
She sniffled. “Thanks, honey. I just wish I could believe it.”
Josh shook his head. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. It’s not what you say, it’s what you don’t do.”
He stared blankly at the television screen.
“Honey?” She got off the couch and knelt at his knees. “I need your help to meet my goals, not by cheerleading and hugs, but by leading and holding me accountable. Josh, what I’m trying to say is that I want, I need you to spank me when I, when you, think I’m slacking off and need discipline.”
Josh pressed the off button.
“What?” His astonished voice filled the den.
“I can’t do this on my own and words, whether written or spoken, just don’t motivate me. I’m hoping actions will jolt me out of my funk.”
“You want me to spank you? For real? As in punishment?”
“Sometimes, yes. Discipline too and maybe a reward for a job well done.”
“And if you don’t like it? What happens then? Do I get blamed and the cold shoulder?”
“All I know, Josh, is that I want to try spanking when I don’t do what I have promised to myself. I made a list. Are you willing to help me make a new start?”
“You really want me to spank you, Deb?”
“Yes, sir. I do.”
He nodded and thoughtfully stroked his chin. “OK, I’m in. Take your pants down and lay over my lap. I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Now?”
“Are you back-talking me already, girl?”
“No, sir!”
“I changed my mind. Strip naked first, then I’ll warm your ass.”
“Thank you, sir.”

Josh ran his hand over his wife’s plump curves. “How hard and for how long?”
“You’re in charge, sir. I know I need a good cry though, so don’t stop just because I say no, only if I say red.”
“Red as in stop?”
“Yes, sir. It’s a safe word in case I can’t take anymore.”
“Then you are actually in charge, not me.”
“No…! I mean… what if?”
“What if? What if I decide to beat you unmercifully?”
“No, you wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Do you trust me, Deb? Do you trust me to spank you as you need?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you may say red, but it will mean pause, not end. The end is when I say so.”
“Yes, sir.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (2)

She firmly gripped the crown of my head and twisted it slightly so that my vantage point shifted to Louisa’s throat. “Note the bulge in her throat as his cock goes deep.” Under her hand I nodded. Enthralled as I was, I belatedly realized that this ‘throating’ was likely part of my upcoming training. The way Louisa’s eyes were watering and her mouth drooling, this did not appear to be an activity the female enjoyed. “Ma’am?” I began, forcing her hand off my head by turning my beseeching gaze upon her. “Will I…?” My thoughts were arrested by her expression.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (1)

“Where did it go?” I repeated with avid astonishment worthy of a conjuror’s trick at a marketplace performance. I watched with wide eyes and slack jaw as Mr. Steedstiff’s glistening cock slowly reappeared from Louisa’s mouth. He paused with the head pursed by her lips, then slowly pressed forward once again. Mesmerized, I convulsively swallowed as his slender shaft gradually became shorter and shorter until her nose snuffled amongst his chestnut curlies. Mrs. Cleanknockers stepped around the saddle Louisa’s punishment postponed temporarily and stroked my scalp as if I were a favored hound or pantry mouser. “It’s called throating, Ruby.”

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.

The Bumhampton Chronicles Chapter Three Complete

Before I start posting Chapter 4 in 100-word drabble format, I am posting the entire 3,000 word Chapter 3 as a recap for easier reading. If you need to catch up from the beginning, then the complete Chapter 1 is here and the complete Chapter 2 is here for easier reading. Happy New Years everyone and may 2017 be filled with wonderful experiences.

By dinnertime my first night at Peacock House, the rumors had swept through the staff as a wildfire that I was Mrs. Cleanknockers newest ‘Pet’. Evidently the near constant discipline and semi-nudity had jaded everyone to the point of indifference. The juicy beef was mush in my mouth, the creamy potatoes dry and crunchy bread stale. The chatter flowed around me as if I were a ghost: I felt bile rise. I was granted my excuse and fled to my attic room. I was weepy and lonely. Self-pity rose in darkling shroud and Morpheus dragged me under. Dreams were sweet.

First light was not near when I awoke. Mouth dry, clothes stiff, neck cramped but oh, the smile on my countenance would have lit the morn’s dew had it been seen. The thin wool blanket was upon the floor as soon too were my feet. Weekly bath night was three days hence, no matter, my cleanse yesterday was still fresh: I filled the chamber pot with my piss. Brief cold water rinse and I trotted downstairs to dump my load. The bird’s arias filled the sweet air – perhaps to leeward reach – the latrines loomed nearer as did a slender shadow.

A sibilant frustrated inarticulate whisper of hate was my only warning before the shadow struck. The chamber pot dashed to ground: contents splashed on my frock and shoes. Steps fled in haste, in the flash of light from opened door, a profile: Louisa. I was not surprised. Hazing was part and parcel of service life. If she, or any others thought to break me with childish pranks, they knew not my strength of character. The sun peeped over the distant elms, a bedraggled urchin caught in the unblinking eye. The nearby pump gushed cold water as I rinsed and squeezed.

I squelched into the kitchen for breakfast, glared at Louisa and her smirking criminal compatriot Emily. I wondered why they were kept on: perhaps their bottoms were used for demonstrations. My backside was dry as I ruminated over breakfast. I was peripherally aware of Mrs. Cleanknockers conversing with Cook but concentrated on my porridge. Therefore, I jumped when her voice boomed loudly. “Ruby! Why is your uniform wet?” I swallowed hard. “I dropped my chamber pot outside ma’am.” The breathless silence was broken by sniggers. “Be quiet!” she bellowed. In the fraught tension I felt her presence hover. “Clumsy today?”

“Yes ma’am,” was the only safe response. She touched my shoulder. “Stand up Ruby.” I stood, my shoes squeaked. “Step over the bench.” I obeyed. The far wall receded. I swayed; she steadied me. “Bend over and place your hands on the table.” As I did, Mrs. Cleanknockers spoke in a voice cold as an icicle, “Let this be a lesson to you all.” I felt the lash on my bottom, the fabric no protection against her fury. She whipped me hard for a minute, it seemed like an hour, then grabbed me by the collar and yanked me upright.

“Remove your uniform!” My fingers shook, buttons seemed to be made of grease and when my dress slid off my shoulders to the floor, there was an audible indrawn hiss from the gathered maids, footmen and cooks. Naked I stooped and collected my garment, shoes for good measure. “March to the laundry young lady! I am not finished with your punishment!” I marched: but as I did, the expected expressions of gloat did not appear on my tormentor’s faces. Stricken they were as Mrs. Cleanknockers swung her strap across the backs of my thighs all the way to the washroom.

Tears pooled in my eyes as I washed and rinsed my soiled smock. I felt her hands on my hot skin, a cool salve rubbed deep. “I’m sorry Ruby for being so harsh,” Mrs. Cleanknockers whispered in my ear. “I know what actually happened and the true culprit. Rest assured I will deal with her in due time.” Her fingers strayed deeper. “Lean forward my sweet and spread your thighs.” Her fingers slipped inside, the scent of heated roses trickled down, my climax slammed up my spine. My head lolled back. My mouth enslaved by her lips. “Spank me more.”

In the throes on my second spend Mrs. Cleanknockers nibbled my ear. “I will precious Ruby. I will spank you until your bottom is the color of ripe plums and then thrash you some more. My darling love slave, I cannot wait to put you to display.” My third crisis engulfed me, her fingers withdrew; I licked them clean. “Enough frivolity Ruby, His Lordship awaits you in his study.” When I blinked in confusion, she waved her hands. “Shoo! I will finish your uniform.” Barefoot I traipsed the halls, my naked form a curiosity. “Good morning Your Lordship.” I curtsied.

He grunted absently absorbed in his ledgers. “Tis Ruby sir. I’m here for my discipline and cleaning duties.” He glanced up, a classic double take and rose to his feet. “I presume there is an explanation for your lack of attire?” I demurely clasped hands at my waist. “Mrs. Cleanknockers directed that I perform my duties here and in the Gun Room sans clothing sir.” Lord Caneshard fairly bounded over his desk to my side. “You are a right handful,” he declared then led me to an armless chair. “Over my knee girl.” I straddled his leg, red bottom uppermost.

Gentle Reader, I can attest that Lord Caneshard could also spank hard. My tender cheeks flared anew as the rapid cadence of palm beat on the surface. The smacking noise filled the study, my pitiful yelps drowned by the hard echoes. A final brutal flurry, his scolding grunts excited me. His hands pried me open, the cool air a balm on my flushed lips. I wiggled. His cock was rigid beneath me. He chuckled. “Not yet sweetness. Not yet.” He walloped me twice more for good measure then put me to work. Another shelf of books: another parade of visitors.

I once saw an organ grinder with a monkey a reminder as I scampered up and down the ladder. All I lacked was a prehensile tail: my red bottom certainly matched. To my surprise I was happy to bring cleanliness out of filth, my late mother had often punished me when I neglected my chores. Here at Peacock House, the promised sensual rewards drove me to perfection. “Ah, welcome Mr. Jones-Smyth. I trust your journey to Wales was productive?” My ears perked up. Was this the man Mrs. Cleanknockers had thought I suited admirably? I listened intently to the conversation.

“It was my lord. The mines are flourishing and I was able to acquire the leases to three more.” There was a rustle of papers. Perched on the upper portion of the ladder I stretched out to the last book on the shelf. I felt eyes on me and I peeped under my arm. The stranger was fixated on my bottom. I looked away and smiled naughtily. I placed both hands one rung lower and dipped my back as if to ease a kink. Another casual glance around. His mouth was slightly open but his expression was stern and foreboding.

My cunt tingled and grew hot and tight. I leaned forward so my hard peaked nipples rubbed the wood step. “My lord,” he said as he kept his hawk like gaze locked on my partially turned face, “I do not recall nude maids on any previous visits.” His Lordship twisted and looked up at me. “Ah, Ruby,” he said with obvious affection. “This is only her second day. It seems the harsher the discipline the harder she works.” He stood up, walked over the ladder, reached up and stroked my calf. “Mrs. Cleanknockers thought she fit the profile you submitted.”

“Would be interested in a closer look?” I heard a chair scrape then a shiver pulsed through the ladder. I gasped and grabbed the shelf. “Easy girl,” Mr. Jones-Smyth said sharply. “I only wish to see you on the floor rather than the sky. Although, the view from down here is quite scenic.” My toes tapped the steps carefully as his hands slid up my legs, over my bottom and past my flanks to my shoulders. He spun me round gently; my eyes fell level with his clean-shaven chin. I’d noticed his curly chestnut hair. My breasts were inches away.

Lord Caneshard performed introductions and Mr. Jones-Smyth thoroughly scrutinized me from head to feet as if I was a filly at Tattersalls. I did not flinch and managed a smile. He had questions for me about my family, my circumstances and to my surprise, my goals. “I would seek to be a wife and mother with a husband who loves me. I wish to be better read and to learn accounts. Perhaps even some small business of my own. I am told My Lord will provide me with such funds as to enable an independent life should I so choose.”

I met his hazel eyes firmly. “I do not pretend to understand how a person of your means would seek a maid such as I, nude and punished in public.” He stepped back for another full-length view. “Does it bother you then Ruby?” I spared His Lordship a quick glance. “By the standards of society I am a woman of loose morals fit only for the streets despite having no choice but to submit to my betters.” I crossed my arms defiantly. “I have discovered Mr. Jones-Smyth that my nature is wanton and desires congress with both males and females.”

His Lordship interrupted me. “Ruby! You were warned not to degrade and demean your desires.” I curtsied and bent over his desk. “Mr. Jones-Smyth, would you care to do the honors? Six with the cane shall suffice.” His blows were tentative and though they stung, he was clearly untutored in the esoteric art of discipline. When I rose to face him, to my surprise he seemed more embarrassed than I. I did not mock. “Thank you sir for punishing me. If you wish to practice further upon my person I shall not think less of you.” He smiled with relief.

Evidently my acceptance pleased him for he said, “It would please me would you call me Timothy and allow me to address you as Ruby.” I blushed now at the courtesy and he cupped my check. “I shall strive to please you Timothy.” His Lordship cleared his throat at our affection. “Ruby is as yet untrained and undergo much schooling before she is a suitable companion for you or any man. If you indeed interested Mr. Jones-Smyth in young Ruby then you may commit such funds needed to involve yourself in her curriculum.” He nodded decisively. “I do wish so.”

“You may call tomorrow afternoon if you remain amiable to claiming her training schedule.” The entire time His Lordship spoke I listened as my future was traded as if a marbled slab of beef. The phrase companion was not further defined, I knew not if I was to be a wife or a whore, and in short order Timothy took his leave. I mounted the ladder once more. Despite my troubled thoughts I was able to finish a shelf and a half in the allocated time before lunch. I was quite shocked at what transpired the rest of the day.

“My Lord, Mrs. Cleanknockers sent me.” My head spun like a poltergeist to see Louisa rise from a curtsy, covered tray in her hands. “That was kind of her; I am hungry.” Even from a distance I could see her gulp. “Pardon my lord, but this meal is for Ruby. I am to serve her.” I climbed off the ladder and moved closer. “Mrs. Cleanknockers states I am due punishment after lunch for this morning’s incident.” Lord Caneshard shrewdly glanced back and forth between us. “This incident Ruby, is it related to your nudity?” Louisa stared down at her shoes.

I firmed my chin and spoke forthrightly. “Yes m’lord. I dropped my chamber pot and splashed my uniform.” His Lordship’s head swiveled to Louisa. “Is this true?” Her eyes flicked to mine before she answered. “Yes m’lord, it is true.” She took a deep breath. “Ruby did indeed drop the pot because I pushed it out of her arms. Sir.” He crossed his arms and said with deep disapproval. “I suppose it was Emily that goaded you again.” There was no response other than a gnawed lip. “I will not tolerate pranks in my house as you are fully aware!”

I foolishly opened my mouth. “It was outside m’lord and it was dark.” No sooner had I finished my rash statement than I was upended over his raised knee and my sore bottom received a quick volley of hard spanks. He seized my cheeks – the facial ones – and said with a calm yet determined voice, “Never speak out of turn Ruby or I shall thrash you until you forget your name.” He shoved me away, not roughly, and turned his outrage on Louisa. “After Mrs. Cleanknockers deals with your punishment you will report to me after dinner. Is that clear?”

Tears pricked and she said with a choked voice, “Yes m’lord, ‘tis clear.” He locked his papers in his desk, but before he left, Louisa had one more refinement to her humiliation. “I’m sorry Ruby. I have your clean uniform to wear while you eat.” She set the tray down, pulled her garment over her head and handed it to me. I drew it on, her body heat felt strange on my flesh. She stood at attention while His Lordship glared. SMACK. SMACK. Two handprints bloomed on her bottom. He gripped her neck and hissed, “Tonight you pay in full.”

I was uncharacteristically silent as a naked Louisa served me lunch. I offered her a wedge of cheese; she shook her head in negation. When we’d finished, she led me to the Gun Room. There was a cane on the outer hook. “That means a punishment session is ready,” Louisa said. She tapped on the door. When we entered, Mrs. Cleanknockers was rubbing a damp cloth over the large leather apparatus in the center of the room. Without prompting, Louisa handed over the cane, climbed a short step and straddled the saddle shaped padded horse. Her bottom mooned rudely up.

“As you can see, Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers lectured, “the penitent is completely exposed for correction.” She lifted Louisa’s feet. One at a time she placed them on a thick adjustable peg. “I use canvas straps to secure the legs, then a longer strap goes over the waist and is buckled tightly to prevent a fall.” She moved to the front and continued trussing. “The arms are folded and wrapped down low. As you can see a female’s breasts dangle freely. The chin is propped on this padded support and a final strap goes over just below the shoulders. Safety first.”

“Ruby, open the drawer with the red tassel. Hand me the third dildo to the right.” I picked up the thick ivory horn. “Excellent. Now in the blue tassel drawer, I need the second from the right along with the glass vial.” This second ivory horn was tapered. “Notice the notch and flared base, Ruby.” I nodded and handed over the objects. “I want you to pay close attention, so that when you are in this position, Ruby, as you will be, you will understand what is expected from you.” She oiled the tapered horn. It pressed firmly inside Louisa.

Louisa hissed as the horn slid up her bottom hole until the flared base snuggled betwixt her cheeks. Mrs. Cleanknockers then oiled the thicker horn. “This little beauty goes up her cunt. Isn’t that right Louisa?” She said, “Yes ma’am.” I saw her thighs flex as the ivory jabbed in tiny thrusts until only the tip penetrated. “For pleasure I like to tease. For punishment…” She rammed it home as Louisa cried out in protest. A hinged arm was locked in place: a wooden screw fit into a hole at the base of the dildo. It would not fall out.

The door opened. “Ah! Mr. Steedstiff. Right on time.” This was my first encounter with the gentleman who would oversee my training. I curtsied. Louisa was in no position to comply. Mrs. Cleanknockers introduced us. “Ruby, unbutton his falls and lift out his cock.” I blinked in astonishment. I yelped as the cane seared my backside. “Obey,” was all she said. I knelt and fumbled with the buttons. I could feel something alive behind the wool. I reached in and removed a real cock. It flopped heavily and twitched. I was mesmerized. “You will feed his cock to Louisa’s mouth.”

Mr. Steedstiff waited in front of Louisa. “Make him hard first, Ruby.” Mrs. Cleanknockers’ eyes gleamed in the gaslight. “How?” I asked. “Use your hand or your mouth. Whichever you prefer.” He thickened to my tentative touch. I wrapped around, his hand clasped mine and stroked back and forth. “Thank you, sir. Would you prefer my mouth?” He pressed down on the top of my scalp in an unmistakable request. I knelt once more and brought the cock to my lips. “Pretend it is a candy stick,” he said. “Do not use your teeth.” I drew the musky tip inside.

My hand dropped away. He rocked gently back and forth until half his length was inside my salivating mouth. I suckled. “That’s enough for now, Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers said. “Now put his cock in her.” I trembled a bit as I carefully fed the end of his cock into Louisa’s open mouth. “You are being punished Louisa. You know what that means.” She managed a nod. I could hear her take a deep breath. “Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers next instructed. “Stand behind Mr. Steedstiff and push against his lower back.” I was puzzled but complied. I gasped, “Where did it go?”

Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (30)

My hand dropped away. He rocked gently back and forth until half his length was inside my salivating mouth. I suckled. “That’s enough for now, Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers said. “Now put his cock in her.” I trembled a bit as I carefully fed the end of his cock into Louisa’s open mouth. “You are being punished Louisa. You know what that means.” She managed a nod. I could hear her take a deep breath. “Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers next instructed. “Stand behind Mr. Steedstiff and push against his lower back.” I was puzzled but complied. I gasped, “Where did it go?”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Flashback Friday: “I’m gonna whip your ass until I can cook bacon”*

This week’s Flashback Friday was originally posted September, 15th 2009. The title came from a post the day before.

*For my Jewish readers: “I’m gonna whip your ass until I can smoke lox”
*For my Muslim readers: “I’m gonna whip your ass until I can roast lamb”
*For my Hindu readers: “I’m gonna whip your ass until I can fry nan”

“Beating up my inner feminist”

I suppose y’all think I’m a beaten down, trailer trash, crack smoking barefoot and pregnant whore for wanting to be whipped, but I ain’t. I blame my daddy – God rest his soul – for my peccadilloes: and don’t think for one cotton-pickin’ minute I don’t know what that word means. Daddy used to whup my ass every Sunday before church, just so’s I would pay attention to the preacher. Lord I miss my daddy. He raised me right, tried to beat the sass outta me – and failed – but I know he loved me. Told me to stay in school or else; the principal damn near wore out the paddle on my naughty butt and momma made sure I paid with blisters for every C I brought home.

Thing is, that’s what I want from a man, a real man that is. Not the lowlife cretins covered with sores and staggering drunk before noon. No, a blue-collar man: with grease under his fingernails, a hunting license and a big dick that I can suck until the cows come home. With a good job, a home and a 4×4 with a light bar and monster tires. Now that honey, is a real man and when he fingers his belt, and growls at my back talking, I don’t want a lecture, I don’t want reason, I don’t want some pansy assed college boy telling me how a lady should behave: I want a good whipping that makes my cheeks flaming red and my feminist snatch drippin’ wet and horny! There ain’t no real men left in this world. Too interested in spa treatments for crying out loud. The only crying in my house is when the leather meets the sassy, big-bottomed, feminist who needs a good spanking to put a smile on her face. So cowboy up and get busy with your little woman: she’ll be ever so grateful.

There was a brief silence and then gasps from her audience. “Oh! That is so nasty and dirty, Florence Lee! Bravo! That is your best story yet!”
“Why thank you kindly, Clara Sue. Do have some of my watercress and cheese canapé. Emma made them this morning.”
“Emma is a treasure, Florence Lee. Are you sure you can’t see your way clear to part with her?”
“Not on your life, Betty Jo. You keep away from my domestics if you know what’s good for you.”
“Ooh, that sounds like a threat.”
“I’ll mention to Jensen what you were up to last Saturday night, Betty Jo.”
“You wouldn’t you dare.”
“Watch me.”
“Now ladies. Simmer down. We’re all friends here and no need to be dragging our husbands into our… business. I for one don’t need a red bottom again.”
“Who are you kidding, Clara Sue! Bo Billing has spanking elbow from the amount of punishment you make him dish out. Tart!”
“Is that so, Florence Lee? This story of yours you read to us, it wouldn’t have anything to do with the new mechanic down at Pee-Wees? I did see you there yesterday on the way to Susan’s to have my hair done.”
“Well…”
“I thought so. What happened?”
“I forget my purse and since I couldn’t pay… I asked for credit.”
“And Mr. Blue Collar said?”
You’re lucky you’re not my woman, Mrs. Thompson. Trying to slide out from paying for a lube job deserves a dress up, bent over, stick your naughty bottom up high, panties down good old-fashioned switching with willow branches.
“I must take my car in tomorrow!”
“Me too! You can’t have all the fun, Florence Lee.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (29)

Mr. Steedstiff waited in front of Louisa. “Make him hard first, Ruby.” Mrs. Cleanknockers’ eyes gleamed in the gaslight. “How?” I asked. “Use your hand or your mouth. Whichever you prefer.” He thickened to my tentative touch. I wrapped around, his hand clasped mine and stroked back and forth. “Thank you, sir. Would you prefer my mouth?” He pressed down on the top of my scalp in an unmistakable request. I knelt once more and brought the cock to my lips. “Pretend it is a candy stick,” he said. “Do not use your teeth.” I drew the musky tip inside.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (28)

The door opened. “Ah! Mr. Steedstiff. Right on time.” This was my first encounter with the gentleman who would oversee my training. I curtsied. Louisa was in no position to comply. Mrs. Cleanknockers introduced us. “Ruby, unbutton his falls and lift out his cock.” I blinked in astonishment. I yelped as the cane seared my backside. “Obey,” was all she said. I knelt and fumbled with the buttons. I could feel something alive behind the wool. I reached in and removed a real cock. It flopped heavily and twitched. I was mesmerized. “You will feed his cock to Louisa’s mouth.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (27)

Louisa hissed as the horn slid up her bottom hole until the flared base snuggled betwixt her cheeks. Mrs. Cleanknockers then oiled the thicker horn. “This little beauty goes up her cunt. Isn’t that right Louisa?” She said, “Yes ma’am.” I saw her thighs flex as the ivory jabbed in tiny thrusts until only the tip penetrated. “For pleasure I like to tease. For punishment…” She rammed it home as Louisa cried out in protest. A hinged arm was locked in place: a wooden screw fit into a hole at the base of the dildo. It would not fall out.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Flashback Friday: Looking but not touching

A new feature I am going to highlight is Flashback Friday. This happens to be the very first post on Lurv Spanking from Sept. 6th, 2009. It’s about power exchange and the modern office. It stops before the actual spanking begins.

“An Office Thrashing”

One of curious characteristics of a spanko is the slow and somewhat creepy way the desire becomes an obsession. For Miles Franklin that desire used to be the usual blowjob under the desk by a hot secretary giving dictation but lately, that fantasy had added a dark twist. Whenever Sarah or Madison or Tiffenee or any other of the very hot, very under dressed and very married women on the 27th floor strode purposely past his corner office, the urge to leap out and grab her by the hair, drag her kicking and squealing face down on his desk and proceed to spank her until she moaned for more: his cock was rigid thinking about the designer wool skirt hiked up around her waist and the silk thong corded around squirming thighs. Sometimes the blowjob came first; sometimes afterwards, sometimes… it went right to fucking.
He sighed. That’s why the last untold numbers of relationships had foundered. No matter how adventurous the modern girl was in bed – very adventurous in fact – they all freaked out when he’d oh so politely broached the subject of spanking. Disgust, anger and threats of lawyers were the various responses. No girl, excuse me, no woman in her right mind ever wanted to be spanked. ‘Beaten? What are you? Some kind of pervert? What’s next? Schoolgirl outfit and whips? I am out of here… Jerk!’
“Mr. Franklin?”
“Yes, Joan?”
“A Mr. Stanmore to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment but he states it is very urgent.”
“Alright, send him in.”
Miles adjusted himself: one good thing about briefs, a hard cock could be shoved and bent easier than with boxers… or commando. A business smile graced his rather ordinary features and hands rested quietly on the leather blotter.
“Mr. Stanmore, sir.”
“Thank you, Joan. Pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat, Mr. Stanmore.”
“Please, call me George. I apologize for barging in on you unexpectedly, but I have some rather disturbing news for you.”
Miles raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “In what matter?”
George took a deep breath. “You know my wife… Ellen, she works here in Accounting.”
“Ellen Stanmore? I don’t recollect ever meeting her.”
“I’m sorry. I should have said Ellen McCrannock, she kept her family name when we got married three years ago. She’s rather headstrong that way… and… in other things.” George trailed off uncertainly.
“I’m puzzled now, George. I have no oversight over Accounting and have only seen your wife at company functions. As far as I know, we’ve never spoken beyond casual greetings. How is this my business?”
“Sir, I realize you are very busy but this can’t wait. Would you mind having your receptionist call Ellen and ask her come down to your office?”
Miles sat back in his chair, clearly confused, but George looked desperate and even a little scared, so he did as requested and the two men waited for ten minutes in awkward silence until Ellen knocked quietly on Miles’ door. They both rose and George went to greet his very surprised wife and escort her to his vacated chair. As she sat down and swiveled to look at her husband, he drew the blinds closed on all the windows and discreetly locked the door. Returning to his wife’s side, he said, “You might want to hold your calls.”
“What’s going on, George? Why am I here? I’ve never had anything to do with Mr. Franklin. I have work to do!”
“Ellen. Be quiet!” George pressed both hands firmly on his wife’s shoulders, pinning her in the chair. “I asked Mr. Franklin to meet you because of what we discussed last weekend.”
Ellen gasped in horror. “No! You can’t possibly mean that! I’ll never…”
The sound of a slap echoed in the room as George smacked his angry wife’s face. “I said, be quiet. You know what you did, you know the penalty and you know that I, not you, have the final say in the punishment. Not… one… more… word, or it will be doubled. Is that clear?”
Tears welled up in Ellen’s green eyes and her lips quivered as she gazed helplessly up at her stern husband. He shook her slightly and she broke out into open sobs of despair.
“Pftttt. You’d think she’d never been punished before the way she’s carrying on!” He glanced at Miles, “May I call you Miles? Thank you. Here’s the deal. Ellen broke the rules, her rules, not mine and due to… well, let’s just say ‘past indiscretions’ and leave it at that, she agreed that I would decide how, when and where she would be punished.”
Miles put his hands up and leaned away. “You can’t mean…”
“Yes, right here, right now.”
“Fine George… and Ellen… I’ll just leave and let you, er, get on with the punishment then.”
“No, Miles. I’d like you, no, I demand you punish my naughty wife.”
A simultaneous intake of outrage, fear and a good deal of excitement from Miles and Ellen. She shook her head and avoided any eye contact. Miles shook his head and felt his mouth hanging open in shock. “Bluh… bluh…”
“Let me explain Miles. Ellen and I have a D/D marriage that includes other people and other… things. Strictly consensual on both our parts of course and the reason I chose you is because Ellen wanted to be spanked by you.” She hunched over in mortification and hid behind her trembling hands. George gently stroked her brunette curls and continued. “She asked around the office and all the girls said emphatically that you’d never touched them or treated them with anything less than professional courtesy. Even when they sashayed past your office in tight miniskirts you never said anything, just undressed them with hungry eyes. There are quite a few spankos on this floor, but none of them have understanding husbands. You see Miles, nothing gets me hotter than watching another man – or woman – using and abusing my lovely wife. And she: she sheds her stuffy accountant attitude faster than her clothes when a tough guy yanks her chain.” He grabbed the back of her head and twisted Ellen’s face so she was staring at Miles. “Isn’t that right, slut?”
Miles saw the varied expressions flit across Ellen’s damp cheeks and the handprint George had left. Hunger and desire were the most prominent. He stood up, walked around the corner of his desk, then perched his buttocks on the edge in front of Ellen. George rolled her back slightly, still holding her firmly at the nape. Her eyes went straight to the bulge of Miles’ slacks. George hissed, “You like what you see?”
Ellen moaned deeply.
George opened his mouth to speak again but Miles cut him off sharply. “I’ll take care of this naughty girl George, you go have a seat on the couch. I think it’s time someone taught this tease it’s not nice to arouse a hard man.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (26)

“Ruby, open the drawer with the red tassel. Hand me the third dildo to the right.” I picked up the thick ivory horn. “Excellent. Now in the blue tassel drawer, I need the second from the right along with the glass vial.” This second ivory horn was tapered. “Notice the notch and flared base, Ruby.” I nodded and handed over the objects. “I want you to pay close attention, so that when you are in this position, Ruby, as you will be, you will understand what is expected from you.” She oiled the tapered horn. It pressed firmly inside Louisa.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Psychological Preparation for a Spanking

An important part of Dominance is the preparation for scenes. Not only the physical logistics of family, work and life in general, but by helping the submissive in their psychological preparation during the transition to a disciplinary mindset. I wrote a lengthy post called “A guide to giving Therapeutic Spankings for couples” that describes one way to deal with scheduled spankings.

But what about spontaneous spankings for fun and play? I offer three following scenarios, one with long buildup, one medium and one short. Obviously, your partner is willing and able to receive a spanking in the spirit it is delivered, and you both use words/phrases that are personally arousing. The identities have been changed to protect the innocent.

Long Scenario:

“Honey?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you know what happens in two hours?”
“Hmmmm, a ball game?”
“No honey. You get a spanking in two hours.”
“But! Why?”
“You know what you did.”
“No I don’t know!”
“Really? Who was prancing around naked this morning?”
“But you told me to! That’s not fair!”
“Oh… so it’s my fault now.”
“Yes, sir. It is.”
“I see. Did I tell you to shake your tits? Bend over and spread your cheeks? Straddle the chair and play with yourself?”
“Well, no… I thought you liked it!”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point! Sir.”
“The point is that if you are going to behave like a slutty little girl, then you’re going to be punished like one with a nice, long, hard, juicy, slutty bare bottomed spanking. Now go set the timer.”
“Yes, sir!”

Medium Scenario:

“I’ve gotta a hankerin’ for sumptin’ woman.”
“A beer? Pizza? Beef jerky?”
“Naw. Sumptin’ a bit more meaty and juicy.”
“You mean like steak?”
“More like rump roast.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me what that means.”
“I… can’t.”
“Say it…”
“I get spanked.”
“Good girl.”
“Right now?”
“Naw. Take a shower first.”
“Is that all, sir.”
“Nope. Get yerself nice and revved up, but don’t you dare come without my permission.”
“And after I’m all hot and bothered, sir?”
“Get in position for inspection.”
“On all fours, sir?”
“Rump nice and high, and you’d better be wet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll give you a seeing to in an hour. I’ll eat after you’re nice and tender red.”
“Thank you, sir.”

Short Scenario:

“Honey? Are you ready yet? We have to leave soon, the party starts in an hour!”
“Good! Then we have enough time.”
“You startled me! Let me straighten your tie.”
“Thanks.”
“Time for what?”
“Lift your dress up.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Okay…”
“Now drop your panties to your knees.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bend over the back of the couch. If your panties fall you get the belt.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Count the paddle strokes. If you’re a good girl and take your spanking without a fuss, you can have your butt plug to hold in my sperm during the party.”
“Please, sir. I’m a very good girl.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (25)

“As you can see, Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers lectured, “the penitent is completely exposed for correction.” She lifted Louisa’s feet. One at a time she placed them on a thick adjustable peg. “I use canvas straps to secure the legs, then a longer strap goes over the waist and is buckled tightly to prevent a fall.” She moved to the front and continued trussing. “The arms are folded and wrapped down low. As you can see a female’s breasts dangle freely. The chin is propped on this padded support and a final strap goes over just below the shoulders. Safety first.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 24)

I was uncharacteristically silent as a naked Louisa served me lunch. I offered her a wedge of cheese; she shook her head in negation. When we’d finished, she led me to the Gun Room. There was a cane on the outer hook. “That means a punishment session is ready,” Louisa said. She tapped on the door. When we entered, Mrs. Cleanknockers was rubbing a damp cloth over the large leather apparatus in the center of the room. Without prompting, Louisa handed over the cane, climbed a short step and straddled the saddle shaped padded horse. Her bottom mooned rudely up.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (23)

Tears pricked and she said with a choked voice, “Yes m’lord, ‘tis clear.” He locked his papers in his desk, but before he left, Louisa had one more refinement to her humiliation. “I’m sorry Ruby. I have your clean uniform to wear while you eat.” She set the tray down, pulled her garment over her head and handed it to me. I drew it on, her body heat felt strange on my flesh. She stood at attention while His Lordship glared. SMACK. SMACK. Two handprints bloomed on her bottom. He gripped her neck and hissed, “Tonight you pay in full.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (22)

I foolishly opened my mouth. “It was outside m’lord and it was dark.” No sooner had I finished my rash statement than I was upended over his raised knee and my sore bottom received a quick volley of hard spanks. He seized my cheeks – the facial ones – and said with a calm yet determined voice, “Never speak out of turn Ruby or I shall thrash you until you forget your name.” He shoved me away, not roughly, and turned his outrage on Louisa. “After Mrs. Cleanknockers deals with your punishment you will report to me after dinner. Is that clear?”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (21)

I firmed my chin and spoke forthrightly. “Yes m’lord. I dropped my chamber pot and splashed my uniform.” His Lordship’s head swiveled to Louisa. “Is this true?” Her eyes flicked to mine before she answered. “Yes m’lord, it is true.” She took a deep breath. “Ruby did indeed drop the pot because I pushed it out of her arms. Sir.” He crossed his arms and said with deep disapproval. “I suppose it was Emily that goaded you again.” There was no response other than a gnawed lip. “I will not tolerate pranks in my house as you are fully aware!”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (20)

“My Lord, Mrs. Cleanknockers sent me.” My head spun like a poltergeist to see Louisa rise from a curtsy, covered tray in her hands. “That was kind of her; I am hungry.” Even from a distance I could see her gulp. “Pardon my lord, but this meal is for Ruby. I am to serve her.” I climbed off the ladder and moved closer. “Mrs. Cleanknockers states I am due punishment after lunch for this morning’s incident.” Lord Caneshard shrewdly glanced back and forth between us. “This incident Ruby, is it related to your nudity?” Louisa stared down at her shoes.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Home Spanking Party

“There is nothing quite as artistically pleasing as a bare bottom over a knee.”
“Don’t you mean aesthetically pleasing?” replied the wife from her upside down position.
There were nervous titters from the audience.
The husband said, “Either way my dear, this was your idea.”
“I know,” she sighed.
Her BFF called out, hand cupped to her mouth, “Come on baby! Give it to her! We want a show!”
There were ten other females in attendance who whooped and hollered in agreement while carefully holding their wine glasses.
The wife shot back, “Don’t get too cocky girls! You spill, you get spanked!” She’d hosted cosmetic parties, cookware, recipes, numerous crafting shows but it was during the sex toy party for Valentine’s Day when she’d let slip that her husband enjoyed spanking her. After a few… okay, three margaritas, she confessed she was the one who initially begged to be spanked. The girls… the drunk tipsy girls, all wanted to spank her for lying but somehow instead, she’d agreed to host another toy party for Christmas, this one all about spanking with implements. Thus she was currently cold sober, dressed… undressed in a black lace camisole and about to receive her husband’s hand across her defenseless bare posterior.
“If I may have your attention ladies,” her husband intoned in his best announcers voice. “Welcome to the Home Spanking Party. I am your humble host and this lovely young woman over my knees is my assistant for this demonstration. Please feel free to get up close and personal as I utilize the many items shown in the catalogue. Cash, checks and credit cards are accepted, however, there are stiff penalties for lack of funds.”
Again there were giggles and toasted glasses clinking. The room quieted as he raised his hand high.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The watchers all leaned forward in fascination as their friend’s bottom slowly took on a light pink tinge. The husband kept up a running commentary.
“Ladies, when spanking by hand, the goal is usually to warm the skin enough to allow heavier blows with an implement. Several minutes is normally sufficient at a rate of one per second alternating cheeks. Concentrate on the crests first and work down as you finish.” He paused to rub his wife’s skin. “Why don’t each of you come up and touch her bottom in order to judge the temperature.”
Her BFF jumped off the couch and was the first to stroke the warm skin. “Come on girls,” she warned, “everybody has to touch or you’re next in line for a spanking!” The rest of the women obeyed, some reluctantly, some eagerly.
The husband thanked them all. “Now, if you are only spanking by hand for punishment, then you should spank twice as fast and twice as hard. Ready dear?”
“I guess so,” his wife whined.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
After a minute of hard hand spanking, the ladies could see a noticeable difference in the color. When they rubbed this time, the heat was very pleasing to the touch.
“Next up is the paddle,” her husband said and reached over his wife’s back to pick up three different styles. “The traditional paddle is wood, it can be hand sized for over-the-knee or longer for full swings in the bent over position. Leather is preferred by many spankos because it is more forgiving and less prone to bruising. Acrylic should be reserved for punishment sessions. I’ll start with ten with the wood, then fifteen with the leather and five with the acrylic. Then we’ll move on to the brushes.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
There was an awed silence as they watched her be firmly pummeled. By now they were all standing in a half circle around the couple. Some blushed at the rear view as the wife’s legs kicked and parted under each loud CRACK! Others were mesmerized by the many facial expressions offered. Most also felt a throb between their legs. After each type of paddle, the ladies stroked the bright red bottom of their friend. The bolder ones slipped fingers into the crease and pulled wider for a better look.
“The last implement is the hairbrush. I like to use this below her sit spots into the thigh crease. There are countless varieties, for the sake of brevity, I will use only one.”
“Thank you!” cried out his wife as she wiggled on his lap. “I hope y’all are having fun at my expense girls! Remember, payback’s a bitch!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“No cursing dear or it’s corner time for you.”
“You put her in the corner?” yelled out several ladies.
“Yes dammit! He fucking does!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Alright naughty girl, after twenty with the hairbrush you’re going to spend some quality time with your nose in the corner!”
“Noooooooooo.”
SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES! SLAP! YES!
“Thus concludes the first portion of the show ladies,” her husband said as he finished her off with two very hard slaps of the brush.
There was loud applause and wolf whistles as the red bottomed wife was placed nose first into the corner. She sniffled and suffered while her friends fondled and pinched her sore cheeks. Her BFF whispered, “I had no idea spanking was so much fun! I think we should do this in private next time, just the two of us.”
Her husband then draped her over the back of the couch, her face in the cushions as he thoroughly demonstrated the larger paddles and long-handled brushes. With her legs spread shoulder width apart, she knew all her friends were getting a personal peep show of her wetness. The catcalls were constant as they egged her husband to add a little more color to her backside and when he brandished the cane as the pièce de résistance, the crowd went wild.
“Cane! Cane! Cane!” they chanted, most on their third glass of wine and more than a little wet themselves.
“Would you like to see some stripes on the solids?” her husband asked, his face a picture of innocence.
“YEEEEEEEEEEESSS!” they all screamed and jostled for a closer view.
“You heard them dear,” her husband said apologetically. “They want some nice welts to rub.”
He whipped the cane down with a hiss and a snap as it impacted. He waited as his wife shook her bottom to the delight of her audience who, caught up in the moment, threw dollar bills on her back and yelled, “Work it girl! Show us what you got!”
Five more times the cane hissed and snapped until six red welts showed against the dark brick bottom. After each lady had rubbed and pinched the cane lines, her husband ended the party by saying, “Ladies, I hope you have enjoyed the inaugural Home Spanking Party. The catalogue is available for ordering and if you don’t mind, I’m going to take my wife into the bedroom for some aftercare.”
There were many hoots and ribald suggestions. Her BFF laughed and said, “Make sure you use the wand! She loves that!”
All in all, it was a very pleasing party and all agreed it was worth repeating with a different model next time. Later that night, more than a few husbands were surprised by randy wives who demanded a good old-fashioned spanking for being naughty.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (19)

“You may call tomorrow afternoon if you remain amiable to claiming her training schedule.” The entire time His Lordship spoke I listened as my future was traded as if a marbled slab of beef. The phrase companion was not further defined, I knew not if I was to be a wife or a whore, and in short order Timothy took his leave. I mounted the ladder once more. Despite my troubled thoughts I was able to finish a shelf and a half in the allocated time before lunch. I was quite shocked at what transpired the rest of the day.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 18)

Evidently my acceptance pleased him for he said, “It would please me would you call me Timothy and allow me to address you as Ruby.” I blushed now at the courtesy: he cupped my check. “I shall strive to please you Timothy.” His Lordship cleared his throat at our affection. “Ruby is as yet untrained and will undergo much schooling before she is a suitable companion for you or any man. If you are indeed interested in young Ruby sir, then you may commit such funds needed to involve yourself in her curriculum.” He nodded decisively. “I do wish so.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 17)

His Lordship interrupted me. “Ruby! You were warned not to degrade and demean your desires.” I curtsied and bent over his desk. “Mr. Jones-Smyth, would you care to do the honors? Six with the cane shall suffice.” His blows were tentative and though they stung, he was clearly untutored in the esoteric art of discipline. When I rose to face him, to my surprise he seemed more embarrassed than I. I did not mock. “Thank you sir for punishing me. If you wish to practice further upon my person I shall not think less of you.” He smiled with relief.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 16)

I met his hazel eyes firmly. “I do not pretend to understand how a person of your means would seek a maid such as I, nude and punished in public.” He stepped back for another full-length view. “Does it bother you then Ruby?” I spared His Lordship a quick glance. “By the standards of society I am a woman of loose morals fit only for the streets despite having no choice but to submit to my betters.” I crossed my arms defiantly. “I have discovered Mr. Jones-Smyth that my nature is wanton and desires congress with both males and females.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 15)

Lord Caneshard performed introductions and Mr. Jones-Smyth thoroughly scrutinized me from head to feet as if I was a filly at Tattersalls. I did not flinch and managed a smile. He had questions for me about my family, my circumstances and to my surprise, my goals. “I would seek to be a wife and mother with a husband who loves me. I wish to be better read and to learn accounts. Perhaps even some small business of my own. I am told My Lord will provide me with such funds as to enable an independent life should I so choose.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Red Moon for a White Christmas

Serena Lansing rang up the last sale of the afternoon. Her co-workers had finished the clean up left behind by the frenzied last minute shoppers. For her sake, she wasn’t even supposed to be here on Christmas Eve, but the two scheduled managers had called out sick. Serena had been forced to cut short breakfast in bed with Josh and her two daughters, eight-year old Sara and six-year old Samantha. Her boss promised her a bonus but nothing could make up for the disappointment in her children’s eyes. They had planned to bake all morning then go to his parents for a holiday luncheon topped off by a movie marathon while waiting for Santa.

As she locked the store’s front door, she complained softly, “At this rate it will be after six before I get home.” She thanked the staff and wished them all a very Merry Christmas then balanced the day’s receipts and prepared the night deposit. She called security for an escort, set the alarm and met the guard at the mall entrance. The weary pack of fellow retailers exchanged wry smiles and a few horror stories then trooped en masse out into the cold air.

“Oh!” rang out from all directions. “It’s snowing!”

“Great,” Serena moaned, “just what I need to end a perfect day.” She waited until she was safe in her vehicle and called Josh. “Hi honey. Tired, but I’m okay. It’s snowing here. Really? That much? I’ll take it easy. I have to do the night drop first so I should be home in about forty minutes. How are the girls? Really? OK… Love you too. Bye.”

She rested her forehead on the steering wheel while the defroster cleared both windshields. She carefully drove through the giant parking lot to the local bank branch. A quick twist of the key, a tug of the cold handle and the cash bag slid down into the vault. Her phone chimed, ‘be safe c u soon luv u’.

Despite the thickly swirling snow in her headlights, there was still quite a bit of traffic on the slick roads. Families going to a movie or dinner: shopping at the still open stores. “Poor suckers,” she muttered as she passed a large box store with barely a space in the lot. She drove slowly but made it home in one piece, red and yellow twirling lights marked those not as fortunate. The inflatable lawn figures and twinkling lights of her home though finally brought a smile of relief as she pulled into the garage.

When she slid out of the SUV she noticed a note taped to the door into the house along with a box and large gift bag. She read the words: open the box first. Serena couldn’t help but giggle as she shook the wrapped package before she slid a nail through the tape and carefully removed the festive paper. Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Oh! It’s beautiful!” Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the crimson suede collar into the light. There was a folded note that read: ‘Put on the collar and then look in the bag’.

Serena set her purse on the step and buckled the leather around her neck. Memories of before the kids when they’d dabbled in kink flooded back. She had recently asked Josh if he was willing to try a Dominant/submissive relationship for three months: it was supposed to start on New Year’s obviously he couldn’t wait. She wondered about the girls for a moment then realized the house was silent. She peeped in the bag. It was empty. The note at the bottom said: ‘Strip naked and place your clothes in the bag then knock on the door Sassy’.

Serena gasped at seeing her play name in print. She felt her body tingle and tighten with anticipation. The garage was insulated but not fully heated and her flesh pimpled as she shed her clothing quickly. She knocked then shivered as she waited. The door remained closed for several minutes before finally it swung outwards.

She smelled cinnamon, brown sugar and apple spice. She felt a rush of warm air. She saw candles in the laundry room and kitchen. She heard jazz… and his voice.

“Do you submit to me Serena?”

Now that the moment was finally here she panicked. Before she could express any misgivings his hand covered her mouth.

“Do you submit to me? Sassy,” he said firmly but not unkindly.

She nodded and replied when his hand lifted, “Yes sir. I submit to you.”

“Walk slowly into the family room and wait for me with your hands behind your head.”

Serena was very cognizant of her nudity. After two children, she still felt awkward in her changed body. Between work and home, she never seemed to find the time to exercise and eat healthy. Her primary goal that drove her request for submission was to be held accountable for not meeting her goals.

“Serena. Do you agree to start our trial D/s period tonight?”

This time her ‘yes sir’ was swift and firm.

“Good.” Josh picked up an object and showed it to Serena. “To ensure our trial starts off with the correct mindset on both our parts, I will spank you by hand for five minutes followed by ten strokes of this paddle.” He sat down in the middle of the couch and said,” Sassy, lay down over my lap.”

She trembled with a mixture of fear, arousal and curiosity. She’d never been spanked before, never really thought about it, but after stumbling across a blog about Domestic Discipline, she spent an entire weekend reading and clicking link after link. There were many ways to proceed and she’d agreed to let Josh lead based on his own research with her feedback only allowed after the completion of whatever act he chose. She’d made a list of twenty things she wanted to try, two of them had just happened and the third was about to commence. It felt very strange and frightening to be draped over his knees, yet somehow, it felt like coming home.

so it was on a cold winter’s night
snow falling under moon so bright
children away to parent’s delight
festive carols while spanked with his might
her surprised cries as bottom once white
turned bright red as he held her so tight
such a hot burn did his hand ignite
twinkling colors bare skin was a sight
round leather paddle ten times did bite
when over she was very contrite
stern demeanor passions did excite
used her hard set orgasms alight
did pretty well for a neophyte
repeated daily until got right
now spanking fuels her appetite

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Just a reminder to follow Paranormal Erotic Romance where there are new excerpts posted.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 14)

“Would be interested in a closer look?” I heard a chair scrape then a shiver pulsed through the ladder. I gasped and grabbed the shelf. “Easy girl,” Mr. Jones-Smyth said sharply. “I only wish to see you on the floor rather than the sky. Although, the view from down here is quite scenic.” My toes tapped the steps carefully as his hands slid up my legs, over my bottom and past my flanks to my shoulders. He spun me round gently; my eyes fell level with his clean-shaven chin. I’d noticed his curly chestnut hair. My breasts were inches away.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 13)

My cunt tingled and grew hot and tight. I leaned forward so my hard peaked nipples rubbed the wood step. “My Lord,” he said as he kept his hawk like gaze locked on my partially turned face, “I do not recall nude maids on any previous visits.” His Lordship twisted and looked up at me. “Ah, Ruby,” he said with obvious affection. “This is only her second day. It seems the harsher the discipline the harder she works.” He stood up, walked over the ladder, reached up and stroked my calf. “Mrs. Cleanknockers thought she fit the profile you submitted.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 12)

“It was my Lord. The mines are flourishing and I was able to acquire the leases to three more.” There was a rustle of papers. Perched on the upper portion of the ladder I stretched out to the last book on the shelf. I felt eyes on me and I peeped under my arm. The stranger was fixated on my bottom. I looked away and smiled naughtily. I placed both hands one rung lower and dipped my back as if to ease a kink. Another casual glance around. His mouth was slightly open but his expression was stern and foreboding.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 11)

I once saw an organ grinder with a monkey: a reminder as I scampered up and down the ladder. All I lacked was a prehensile tail: my red bottom certainly matched. To my surprise I was happy to bring cleanliness out of filth, my late mother had often punished me when I neglected my chores. Here at Peacock House, the promised sensual rewards drove me to perfection. “Ah, welcome Mr. Jones-Smyth. I trust your journey to Wales was productive?” My ears perked up. Was this the man Mrs. Cleanknockers had thought I suited admirably? I listened intently to the conversation.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 10)

Gentle Reader, I can attest that Lord Caneshard could also spank hard. My tender cheeks flared anew as the rapid cadence of palm beat on the surface. The smacking noise filled the study, my pitiful yelps drowned by the hard echoes. A final brutal flurry, his scolding grunts excited me. His hands pried me open, the cool air a balm on my flushed lips. I wiggled. His cock was rigid beneath me. He chuckled. “Not yet sweetness. Not yet.” He walloped me twice more for good measure then put me to work. Another shelf of books: another parade of visitors.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 9)

He grunted absently absorbed in his ledgers. “Tis Ruby sir. I’m here for my discipline and cleaning duties.” He glanced up, a classic double take and rose to his feet. “I presume there is an explanation for your lack of attire?” I demurely clasped hands at my waist. “Mrs. Cleanknockers directed that I perform my duties here and in the Gun Room sans clothing sir.” Lord Caneshard fairly bounded over his desk to my side. “You are a right handful,” he declared then led me to an armless chair. “Over my knee girl.” I straddled his leg, red bottom uppermost.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Sir Fang and other biting tails

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is Victorian and happens to be an era I am currently immersed in. There are several, three to be exact, story lines I am currently writing.

#1: My tribute serial novel The Bumhampton Chronicles is a send-up of sorts of the great Victorian Age of Erotica, where orifices were plundered and bottoms were whacked. The Venerable Lord Caneshard the Omnipresent of Lower Bumhampton, his housekeeper Mrs. Cleanknockers, his ward Miss Frothinglips and the mysterious Mr. Steedstiff all conspire to bring the virginal and virtuous Ruby Slapumcheecks to great heights of wicked, wanton pleasure. It is not intended to be factual either in place, the year 1865, nor in terms of language and dress and circumstances. The Bumhampton Chronicles is currently being posted as 100-word drabbles 4 to 5 times a week. Click the link above to scroll back to the beginning of the story.

#2: The short story The Bloody Merry Book Club was posted for Halloween 2016 and is a contemporary spanking story that was a one-off. As so often happens, the short story yielded a character who demanded a novel. The Bloody Merry Book Club has now become the prologue for a new novel called “The Case of the Scarlet Paddle” starring Sir Nachton MacRath, Peer of the Realm, immortal vampire, lover of many and anointed Chastiser for the Queen! Sir Fang, as someone dubbed him, is a Scottish Highlander Vampire Steampunk Regency Pirate who solves the coldest of cases for the Crown. Obviously tongue-in-cheek, but the novel itself has turned out to be rather serious. It, like the Bumhampton Chronicles, is set in Victorian England of 1865, but is an alternative universe where steam technology has led to airships and other advances. This novel will not be posted online.

#3: This novel has in turned spawned another Victorian novella set in 1854 when Sir Nachton MacRath has returned to England after being banished by the Regent 18 years before. The Steampunk aspect has just begun to gather steam, so to speak, and he finds himself being drawn to a mortal woman. The novella is for an unnamed as of yet Valentine’s Day anthology for the Paranormal Erotic Romance Lust anthology series. This prequel is filled with historical figures, lots of spankings and erotic play. It is scheduled to be released Jan, 11th 2017 on Amazon as an ebook. Check the PNR website for updates.

The Lust in Lace anthology is now available with my novella. In Byron Cane’s Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine, MacRath is a centuries-old vampire returning home after decades of absence. It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Her Majesty has appointed MacRath Her Chastiser of Loose Morals. Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but quite a handful. Despite discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. MacRath will ensure she is well punished and dominated in all ways as befits his naughty Valentine.

 

Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

The following excerpt is from “The Case of the Scarlet Paddle” and describes Sir Nachton MacRath’s duty as official Chastiser.

Sir Nachton MacRath pulled into the mews off Hill Street in Mayfair and cut the switch for the boiler. The new Avon steamer was fresh off the factory floor, his factory floor in fact, but that was more secret than his vampire status. The stable boys crowded around in admiration and he obliged them with a slew of technical specs. “If any of you have mechanical aptitude I know an agent who’s always in need of sharp young lads to learn the steam business.” MacRath slipped off his goggles and driving gloves. He sniffed and grimaced. “The Thames is a right cesspool this fine winter’s afternoon.” There was a chorus of agreements and inquiries as to when the Southwick Sewer Plant was to become operational. “Soon boys, very soon.” He assigned someone to watch over the carriage and strode briskly to the front door.

“Lord Flintdowns,” he said and handed his embossed card to the butler. “Lady Stanton is expecting me.”

“Yes my lord. If you will wait in the front parlor I will enquire if she is receiving.”

MacRath peered out the window. The sun was soon to set, the weather mild for late November of 1865. He never liked Her Majesty being involved in these cases, but a Royal command was not to be ignored. Even secluded in Windsor, her tentacles spread throughout the ton. He begrudged the time away from Lady Joyce. Her expertise, book learned to be sure, had been invaluable in the hunt for the mystery of the scarlet paddle. His lips curved in a half smile, half smirk. She had taken to his discipline like a duck to water.

“Lord Flintdowns,” a feminine voice called out, “thank you for answering so promptly.”

“Lady Stanton,” MacRath bowed and kissed her hand. “I will not say this is a pleasure, although your lovely countenance outshines the noonday sun.”

“La sir, you are quite the rogue,” Lady Stanton scolded and blushed.

“I am a slave to my nature m’lady.” He held a hand to his breast and touched his badge of office. The Three Lions with crossed cane and birch rod glowed in the last light of day. “If you may, reiterate the incident to me so that appropriate measures can be weighed.”

Lady Stanton pursed her lips, every inch the stern patrician matriarch. “My daughter Libby was seen in Hyde Park yesterday with a known rake despite my express forbiddance. She foisted off her maid and arranged the clandestine affair. Her father is aware, but has removed to White’s for the evening.”

“If it does not distress Lady Stanton, when you state Libby was seen, does that mean other than a public promenade?”

“I will be frank Lord Flintdowns as your reputation for discrete chastisement proceeds you. A single kiss on a darkened terrace during a rout is one thing, but a day dress stained with grass and bits of bark on the bustle, along with ripped petticoats is quite beyond the pale. I will not tolerate wanton behavior from any of my daughters.” Lady Stanton nostrils flared and her corseted bosom heaved like the tides as she fulminated.

“Thank you my Lady for the clarification. I indeed commiserate with your agitation. May I inquire as to Libby’s whereabouts at this time?”

“She is confined to my sitting room. I am sure you can see the impropriety in her being seen to in her own chambers.”

“Then I am to understand you will be present?”

Lady Stanton frowned. “Not only present my Lord, I will decide when the punishment is complete.”

“Yes my Lady.”

MacRath waited in the hall while Lady Stanton dismissed the maid and began to lecture her wayward daughter. There was much protest from Libby all to no avail. He was bade enter and got his first look at the miscreant. She was taller than her mother, slender with flame red hair piled carefully on her head. The deep navy dress was of the latest fashion. There was no doubt she recognized him for her face turned sallow and her eyes distraught. More entreaties ensued until Lady Stanton issued her ultimatum. “Either you accept your punishment from Her Majesty’s chastiser or you shall be confined to your room for the next six weeks. That brought silence at last along with tears. Lady Stanton said coldly, “Save your waterworks daughter. You will soon have a real reason to cry.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 8)

In the throes on my second spend Mrs. Cleanknockers nibbled my ear. “I will precious Ruby. I will spank you until your bottom is the color of ripe plums and then thrash you some more. My darling love slave, I cannot wait to put you to display.” My third crisis engulfed me, her fingers withdrew; I licked them clean. “Enough frivolity Ruby, His Lordship awaits you in his study.” When I blinked in confusion, she waved her hands. “Shoo! I will finish your uniform.” Barefoot I traipsed the halls, my naked form a curiosity. “Good morning Your Lordship.” I curtsied.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 (Part 7)

Tears pooled in my eyes as I washed and rinsed my soiled smock. I felt her hands on my hot skin, a cool salve rubbed deep. “I’m sorry Ruby for being so harsh,” Mrs. Cleanknockers whispered in my ear. “I know what actually happened and the true culprit. Rest assured I will deal with her in due time.” Her fingers strayed deeper. “Lean forward my sweet and spread your thighs.” Her fingers slipped inside, the scent of heated roses trickled down, my climax slammed up my spine. My head lolled back. My mouth enslaved by her lips. “Spank me more.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.