flash fiction – Page 6 – Spank Me Hard! … Please?

Flashback Friday: “Discipline is needed”

February 3, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

Willing reluctant feet to move, she raised a quivering hand to rap on the sturdy oak door. The gruff ‘Enter!’ nearly sent her fleeing back to her room. Reluctantly she opened the door, sweaty hands clutching the document. Seating behind his desk, her father raised an eyebrow at his twenty-year old daughter’s attire. Dressed as a schoolgirl, pleated skirt, crisp blouse and his regimental tie she appeared much younger and very nervous.
“Good morning, Sir.”
Confused, her father said, “Since when am I, ‘Sir’, to you, Princess?”
Before she completely lost her nerve, his trembling daughter confessed her innermost desires.
“You never spanked me as a child, Sir, and I appreciate your compassion and understanding of my willful ways. It would have been easy to punish me with blows. I know I deserved a good thrashing on many occasions. I also know you spank mother and have for as long as I can remember.”
Her father stirred uncomfortably in his leather chair, the conversation taking a disturbing turn. He was about to dismiss his clearly overwrought daughter when the door swung open to reveal his smiling wife.
“Have you told him yet, darling?”
Her daughter shook her head, but with courage bolstered by her mother’s support, continued.
“You told me, Sir, when I reached the age of twenty I could ask for any single thing of you and if it was within your power, you would grant my boon. This document I have in my hand is my latest Uni transcript.”
Her father read the paper, all top marks and glowing reviews.
“I fail to see any grounds for discipline, Princess. I am very, very proud of you.”
His daughter basked in his love and praise. She felt her mother squeeze her hand in support.
“I thank you, Sir. I thank you both for raising me to be the young woman I am today. My boon, Sir, is that you teach me to be as my mother. I wish to submit to my husband and have the marriage of respect you share. As a reward for my marks I crave you give me six of the best and begin my journey into adulthood.”
He stood, paced round to the two most important women in his life; kissed his wife soundly on the mouth and his daughter on her brow.
“I would be honored, Princess, to guide you into proper submission. We both are honored you have chosen your parents as your role models. Assume the position, Princess, raise your skirt and lower your knickers to your knees. You will receive six of the best with your mother’s own special cane and you will count and thank me for each and every one.”
She complied, no longer nervous, no longer a child, but poised on the cusp of her new life as a contented and taken woman.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (22)

February 2, 2017February 2, 2017lurvspanking2 Comments

Louisa blushed and leaned in, her head rested on my collarbone. I reached down as far as I could, fingertips brushed her rosette, cupped her globes and rubbed lengthwise through her damp thighs. “We’re not supposed to do this, Ruby,” she confessed in a muffled whisper. “We’ll be soundly whipped if we’re caught.” I raised my palm and slapped her bottom. “Then we won’t get caught.” I moved swiftly then, not knowing how long we would be left alone. I pulled her away from the sink explaining what I planned. In case of a sudden return, I staged a tableau.

“A Disciplined Model”

February 1, 2017lurvspanking8 Comments

“S’il vous plaît, Renée, be still and do not smile!”
“I am trying, Pierre, but my arm is asleep!”
“A few more minutes, I must capture your face before the light fades.”
“That’s what you said a half an hour ago!”
“I knew I should have hired Angelique for this commission.”
“Angelique! She is but a common whore.”
“She does not pout, Renée! She is obedient and demure as a model should be!”
“Does she suck you off? Are her titons as big as mine?”
“Titons?”
“Yes, my bosom, you cretin. Do you not like them when I shake my shoulders?”
“The word is les tétons, mademoiselle, and you must be STILL!”
“Bah, Pierre, you are no more French than I am, no one cares.”
“Except my clients, who incidentally, allow me to pay you.”
“Rich and stupid Americans, here for their Grand Tour and forged antiques.”
“And the Exposition of 1900 as well, don’t forget.”
“Oh yes, the wonders of progress designed to fleece the workers of hard earned francs.”
“Don’t roll your eyes!”
“How about my hips instead?”
“That’s it, Renée! You’re an incorrigible brat! Angelique will replace you.”
“No, Pierre! I am sorry. Do not dismiss me. I’ll behave, I promise.”
“It’s too late. Get dressed and get out. We’re through.”
“Please, monsieur, give me another chance. See? You like my bottom.”
“So?”
“So. I’ve been very naughty. I deserve a good whipping, not dismissal.”
“I don’t care.”
“Please, Pierre. I am bent over for you. You can see everything. I don’t mind.”
“If, I whip you, Renée, that is only a small down payment for my wasted time.”
“Yes, yes, I agree, punish me, Pierre, make me behave.”
“What shall I use? I must not damage my hands.”
“Do you still have the props?”
“Of course! The martinet is even properly French. Here it is.”
“Hurry, Pierre. I feel very excited and wet for you.”
“Who’s the whore now?”
“I am, Pierre. I am your whore. Whip me. Beat me. Use me hard!”
“Like that, you slut? And that? Across your broad, naked rump like that, you brazen hussy.”
“Oui! Oui! I am nothing but a wanton for you! Harder, Pierre, do it harder!”
“I should have flogged you the first time you caused trouble.”
“Oui! Harder, faster. Let me feel the leather thongs rake my naughty arse.”
“I suppose I should whip you before every session as a reminder.”
“Oui, Pierre! Every day and every night, make me red and striped.”
“The red lines on your dusky skin are so striking.”
“Oh, like that, and again, and again, I am getting so close.”
“Careful of your fingers in your pussy, I don’t want to strike them.”
“Then strike my wicked pussy instead! Swing up from below.”
“Like that?”
“OUI! Oh mon Dieu, do it again!”
“I didn’t know whipping there was even possible.”
“I’m coming!”
“So I see, Renée. A few more blows there, and there, and there.”
“Fuck me, Pierre! My pussy hurts, I want it to hurt even more.”
“Later.”
“Later? I must have your cock now!”
“Don’t move, Renée. The sun angle highlights all your red stripes. I must paint quickly.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (21)

January 31, 2017January 31, 2017lurvspanking3 Comments

“If you’re willing to shift allegiance, Louisa, I’d like to be your friend.” Tears pricked her eyes. I gathered her in my arms, our breasts squashed together. She sobbed. Whether in relief, or delayed reaction to her punishment, I did not know. Without conscious volition, my hands slipped down her back and rested lightly on her hot buttocks. She hiccuped several times, but did not resist or pull away. I gently kneaded. She hissed softly. “Would you like me to apply some cream?” That clearly startled her. My fingers crept lower and teased open her hemispheres. Her eyes grew wider.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (20)

January 31, 2017lurvspanking1 Comment

I busied myself wiping down the saddle then applying a fresh coat of oil. “Do you regret your decision, Louisa?” She stopped scrubbing. “I’ve been here ten months. The only thing I regret, Ruby, is being unable to stand up to Emily.” I draped the towel over the pommel and moved behind her. Tentatively, I rested my hand on her shoulder: she stiffened briefly. Her hands ceased washing. I tugged gently, asking without words for her to turn around. She did so, slowly, and kept her head lowered. I emulated Mrs. Cleanknockers and raised her chin. “I forgive you, Louisa.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (19)

January 30, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

“I take it you’ve pulled this sort of stunt before?” Before she explained, she took the bucket over to the sink. Hot running water was still a novelty to me. She used a bar of soap and scrubbed each item as she talked. Her background was not much different than mine. An pretty orphan, left to fend for herself, except with the de rigueur villainous cousin who sought to profit from her virginity. “How did you escape?” I wanted to know. “Lord Caneshard and Peacock House are well known in certain quarters. After overhearing, I packed a satchel and left.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (18)

January 29, 2017lurvspanking5 Comments

Louisa faced me with a blank face. “Thank you, Ruby, for trying to suck his cock. You didn’t have to.” I was stunned at her words and a bit wary. “Do you really mean that?” She smiled crookedly and instead of pulling on her dress, hung it off the highest drawer knob. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for what I did and for the punishment you received.” She bit her lip and continued. “I was jealous of the attention you were getting and Emily egged me into being stupid again.” I had to admit to being curious at this point.

The Bumphampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (17)

January 28, 2017lurvspanking9 Comments

Our ivory ball gags were removed and joined the other soiled objects in the bucket. I noticed Louisa’s breathing was loud and harsh, her eyes unfocused. The leather saddle was damp to the touch with her sweat. A knock on the door, it opened, and Miss Frothinglips sailed in as a clipper under full canvas. She ignored us both and whispered to Mrs. Cleanknockers. A sharp swivel of the head and her shoulders stiffened. With nary a backwards glance, Mrs. Cleanknockers strode out the door: Miss Frothinglips, after handing Louisa a clean uniform, followed swiftly. Left alone with my nemesis.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (16)

January 26, 2017January 27, 2017lurvspanking4 Comments

Mrs. Cleanknockers tossed the ivory plugs into a bucket along with the rubber phallus I’d been sucking. “Ruby, take a clean towel and wipe down Louisa’s hindquarters, front to back.” I mumbled around my gag and plucked a cloth off the shelf. While Mrs. Cleanknockers removed the many bindings, I rubbed and dried everywhere I could reach. Up close, the feminine scent was intoxicating. I wanted my tongue around the pink folds and drilled into the slack rear portal. I made a frustrated groan when Louisa slid sideways off the pommel. Her legs shook: her nails bit the soft surface.

Summer at the lake

January 25, 2017January 28, 2017lurvspanking12 Comments

Do places retain a physic imprint? If you returned to a spot where your life had changed, was the memory still tangible?

For Jesimine Powell, the summer of ’85, at Lake Archibald, in Cabin Twelve was one such place. A place of firsts: first love, first kiss, first orgasm from another, first acceptance of self-identity. Twenty years later, she was returning to fulfill a promise.

There were families swimming off the artificial beach. Red canoes and white sailboats projected excited shrieks over the forty-acre lake. The resort still exuded rustic charm, but the owners had bowed to the times and added phones and televisions in every cabin. The trees were taller, the rocks seemed smaller, but the private dock in front of their cabin was still as weather-beaten and warped as she remembered.

“I remember the first time I saw you. I was sitting right here, at the end of the dock. You swam over from number 11 and said ‘Hi, my name’s Emily’. You popped out of the water like a sprite, your turquoise bikini set off your white skin and freckles. I remember when you wrung out your hair, the beads of water made little rainbows in the air. You wanted to know if I could get a tan. Do you remember, Em, how I looked at you, my mouth wide open and pressed my forearm to yours? I said, ‘Girl, does this look like a tan to you? Cause to me, it appears to be dark chocolate’. That’s when you gave me a shit-eating grin and said, ‘Gotcha!’ I was too shy to tell you then, but when my skin touched yours, the spark caused my heart to be lost in a moment.”

Jesimine drew her knees to her chest. The curled pine boards of the dock pinched her bottom through her shorts. She looked to her left and smiled softly.

“Remember that, Em? How our parents were all stiff and formal at first until our dads found out they were both firefighters? They’d be swapping stories and our moms would escape to the kitchen to swap recipes, while we slipped out the back to have one last swim before dinner. You remember when you dared me to go skinny-dipping? I swallowed water I was laughing so hard when you complained my skin gave me an unfair advantage in the dark. ‘I ain’t never had no white girl ever be envious over my black color before’. You got annoyed and rather than splash water like you usually did, you shut me up by kissing me and then swam away as if mutant alligators had migrated to the Adirondacks.”

The calls of ‘suppertime’ echoed around the lake. Boys and girls hauled out, smoke rose from fireplaces and outdoor pits. The smell of roasted meat wafted lazily over the water.

“That night, Em. You remember. Our folks wanted something fancier than burgers and dogs. We stayed in my cabin, number 12, and you got angry with me for overcooking the trout fillets. You called me ‘stupid’, I yelled back I was ‘gonna whup your skinny white girl ass if you didn’t shut your mouth’. You were shaking like a leaf, I thought it was cause you were scared. I remember us both apologizing and you begging not to be spanked in that breathy voice that always pushed my buttons. I did the bravest thing I’d ever done in my life up till then. You said ‘Yes, ma’am’, after I scolded ‘Are you gonna behave, little girl?’ I sat down on the couch and told you, ‘Get over my lap, Emily’. You remember what you said, Em? ‘I’ll let you spank me bare bottomed, Jesimine, if you tell me the truth’.”

“I told you the truth that night, Em, and every night since. I love you. I love your cries as I slowly turn your bottom bright red. I love that cute squeak you make when I fuck you. I love the cotton candy taste deep inside your pink. I love your talented tongue. But most of all, I’ll always love you, Emily.”

Large tears splashed on the gray wood, the saline fluid staining random dark circles.

“Remember, Em, how you always joked you could see our cabin twelve from your office window on the 109th floor of the North Tower? I’m sorry I missed your call. I’m sorry they never found you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I hope you can see our cabin from heaven.”

The last rays of the setting sun sparkled off the bright floral wreath as it spun out over the calm surface of Lake Archibald in front of Cabin Twelve.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (15)

January 24, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

It was not to be – not yet – and I reluctantly returned to my duties, difficult as that was. Somewhere around one hundred blows, the sudden absence of noise made my ears ring. I studiously scrubbed the baseboards: mere coincidence offered a clear view of Louisa’s red, plugged, mottled backside. Mrs. Cleanknockers yanked out the bottom stuffing horn with a swift tug and a toot. My eyes popped to mirror the gape revealed. The cunt horn was unlatched from the rod; though hard to tell from my perspective, she appeared to be wet from more than the oil. My pelvis clenched.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (14)

January 23, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

The sting, the heat, the searing pain when being spanked, tended to draw attention away from the actual sound of punishment. Seeing the results up close, hearing each stroke, set off fireworks in my cunt. My hand slowly rubbed. Without turning her head, Mrs. Cleanknockers told me, “Ruby, if you don’t stop frigging your quim and get back to work, you’ll replace Louisa when I’m done with her.” That of course, only made things worse. I couldn’t come right out and state, ‘yes, please, yes, please’ although I am sure she knew what I desired. I wanted to be displayed.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (13)

January 22, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

“Ruby, remove your uniform and commence your cleaning duties.” This was my first time witnessing a punishment: both appalled and entranced, I tried to polish the knobs. Eventually though, I abandoned all pretense and sat on the floor behind Mrs. Cleanknockers. I had never realized how resilient the bottom was. Each time the oiled leather slammed onto Louisa’s buttocks; the impact compressed the flesh and sent ripples in every direction. Because she was gagged, only faint mews escaped her lips. I mewed in sympathy at a particular loud slap. That was the other thing: the noise was much louder watching.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 (Part 12)

January 21, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

Before Mr. Steedstiff departed, I was reminded of my place. He commanded Louisa to dribble his seed onto an ivory ball and then placed it in my mouth. A leather thong threaded through the bit was tied behind my head. He bridled Louisa next, she swallowed first, and I awaited for instructions while his cloying scent coated my tongue. Mrs. Cleanknockers took a deep, shuddering breath when the door softly closed in his wake. I was convinced they disliked each other intensely. I could only hope to stay out of the crossfire. “Louisa, an appointment with the strap is next.”

Flashback Friday: “All-American Football Star”

January 20, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

JayCee couldn’t wait to surprise her husband Terrence. He didn’t expect her until this evening, but she’d caught an earlier flight. Letting herself in the gate and the front door, the mansion was silent. She set her bags down and went searching for him. He wasn’t in the game room or the media center and since she wanted to sneak up on him quietly, she didn’t yell out or call his cell. She finally heard faint moaning from behind the master bedroom and her blood ran cold when she heard him groan. “Yeah, just that like, baby. Take it deeper, that feels soooo good.”

JayCee slowly opened the doors in a trance expecting the worst. What she saw was so incomprehensible she shrieked. Her 6’5″, 265 ripped pounds of stud wide receiver, All-American, Pro-Bowler and Super Bowl star was face down on their king size bed, naked and writhing with – as far as she could tell – her pink vibrator shoved up his ass!

“JayCee! You’re home!”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I can explain, baby, I can explain!”
“No! Leave it in and tell me what the hell you are doing with my Rabbit plunged up your chocolate starfish!”
“Baby, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I… I don’t know, baby. I missed you and I saw your toy… I was…”
“Gay? Are you queer? Is this some fucking locker room thing?”
“No, baby. I ain’t no fag.”
“What would your mama say if she saw you like this? I know she didn’t raise her man to be no sissy boy. I’ll bet she’d whip your ass from one side of the house to the other.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Why didn’t you just jerk off? I don’t get it! What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing, baby, nothing’s wrong with you. Please believe me. I love you and you’re so hot.”
“Humph. I’ll bet you say that to all the groupies. Hoes and sluts probably line up and bend over in formation for you.”
“I’ve never cheated on you, baby. Never!”
“You don’t call this cheating?”
“No, of course not.”
“You did start without me.”
“What?”
“Stay there, don’t move and don’t you dare take that vibrator outta your fine ass.”

JayCee raced down to the trophy room and lifted Terrence’s fraternity paddle off the wall. “This is going to be so much fun,” she chortled as she hurried back to his side.

“Listen to me, sissy boy, and listen good. You wanna get back into my good graces, I’m going blister your ass until I feel you’ve learned your lesson! Now put your tight end nice and high in the air and let me knock some sense into you.”

JayCee drooled seeing the sight of those chiseled thighs, the meaty calves and the tight buttocks, parted in the middle with a shocking pink vibrator sticking out. Even better was his flaccid cock and loose balls dangling straight down. Ten inches of man-meat awaited her attention after she spanked the hell outta his naughty ass. She swung the paddle hard and popped his flesh repeatedly, his squeals and groans sending a flood of heat to her twat. She didn’t want to stop, but feeling the raging heat on his skin turned her into an animal. She shoved him sideways and then on his back. She dove on his cock, semi-hard now and sucked and sucked until it was at full length. She grabbed the end of the vibrator and begin moving it in and out.

“Does this feel like I’m fucking your ass? Don’t you wish I had a real cock right now to sodomize you hard and deep like you do to me? Make you scream like I do when you plunge fast to the hilt?”

She resumed her blowjob determined to milk his sperm. When he finally blew his load, she took it all over her face and rubbed her fingers in the sticky mess, licking and preening like a panther. He winced when she yanked the vibrator out. “I’m gonna take this ass just as soon as I can order me a strap-on. You wanna be my sissy boy and get fucked by your wife?”
“Yeah, baby, I do. Go deep, go long and hit me when I’m open.”
“She scores!!!!!!!!!!”

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

A friendly reminder, the Lust in Lace anthology, is still 99 cents on Kindle ereader until the end of January. If you like werewolves and frost giants, ghosts and goddesses, or steampunk vampires, then for Valentine’s Day treat yourself or your loved one(s) to a sexy collection of erotic novellas. As Byron Cane, my submission is called Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (11)

January 19, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

Gentle Reader: do not be alarmed by salacious sexual scenarios; be aroused, for surely I was every time in the Gun Room. There was pain of course, but that is part of life for everyone. To have the opportunity for pleasure, to revel in hedonistic congress – as my mentor Mrs. Cleanknockers would say – with hard cocks and wet cunts: those were truly marvelous days of innocent exploration. I do not want you to feel sorrow for the young girl I was, there was little else a poor orphan could expect, and his lordship truly had my best interests in mind.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (10)

January 17, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

Louisa’s lips pouted red around his cock. I noticed his breath labored in pants and huffs until his thighs suddenly went rigid. Mr. Steedstiff’s mouth hung open and his face twisted in a rictus akin to pain. Only the head of his cock remained inside her mouth. His shaft made pulsing motions along the length. He breathed out a long exhale of relief. “Do not swallow yet, Louisa,” Mrs. Cleanknockers ordered. “Ruby, as he withdraws, open your mouth and clean the seed off his cock, gently, men are so sensitive right after they spend.” I detected a whiff of sarcasm.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (9)

January 16, 2017lurvspanking2 Comments

I dutifully retrieved the shortest and slenderest of the rubber dildos and resumed my kneeling position at Louisa’s head. “Observe the way it should be done, Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers advised. We gagged in unison. I could only manage one failed attempt for every three deep thrusts she endured. My respect for her grew. I no longer cared about the piss-pot. I wanted to belong. I wanted to be admired. I wanted a husband who would enjoy having his cock sucked the correct way. As I coughed and spat on the floor, Mr. Steedstiff was now rapidly jabbing with short strokes.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (8)

January 15, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

Try as I could, his cock would not enter my unwilling throat. He settled for a lengthy dissertation on the proper style of sucking complete with admonishments and exhortations. “Hollow your cheeks. Pucker up and blow. Suck and swallow. Waggle your tongue.” My jaw ached. I was very disappointed with my failure, doubly so when Mr. Steedstiff praised my efforts as being adequate for a first-timer. Mrs. Cleanknockers was not so forthcoming. “Ruby,” she snapped. “In the drawer with yellow tassel is a selection of India rubber dildos. While he finishes off inside Louisa’s throat you will practice with one.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (7)

January 14, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

In my peripheral vision I could see Louisa’s disbelief: behind me a loud ‘harrumph’ from Mrs. Cleanknockers. I bravely opened my mouth and braced my palms on the floor for the coming assault. Soaked with Louisa’s saliva, his cock loomed large as his hands firmly gripped my nape. It seemed to have grown and I was hard-pressed to relax my jaw enough to allow entry. Mr. Steedstiff kept up a steady patter as he stroked in and out. “Mind the teeth. Stick out your tongue. Swallow. Fight your gag reflux.” That last was when I nearly cast up my accounts.

Flashback Friday: “You may now spank the bride”

January 13, 2017January 28, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

In the year of our Lord 1273, marriage was for the nobility. The serfs, peasants and general workers who comprised the majority of the population were left to their own devices even if a priest was available. Various rituals existed in many cultures to bond two young people together for the sake of the children usually already on the way. In the tiny hamlet of Whipping-Hollow-On-Butterbum-Reach however, there was a very different ritual performed on the rare occasion of Holy Matrimony betwixt and blushing maiden and an untried boy. Here in this place the bride was given away by the groom’s parents; the groom by the bride’s parents. [*If unavailable due to plague, war, malnutrition or general misfortune then appropriate substitutes would be arranged.]

Perhaps thrashed away would be a better term. The morning of the wedding, the respective parents* would arrive at the hovels of the soon-to-be-in-laws and request permission to enter. This was done simultaneously and the bride/groom would politely bade their new parents* to enter the dwelling. Once inside, what the parents* found would be a nude groom/bride standing next to wedding finery. This was done, the nudity, to ensure there were no malformations in the bodies of the engaged. For the bride, she was also subjected to a physical exam to insure an intact hymen [unless a certificate of prior breakage was notarized and signed by thirteen male witnesses] and proper function of mouth, nipples and anus. If satisfied, the bride’s new in-laws would then bathe her thoroughly but lovingly as a new daughter and dress her in preparation to join their household.

The groom was also inspected and his new mother-in-law would ensure he possessed a proper and suitable cock stand for their daughter being given away in the hovel down the lane. The foreskin was carefully washed and then the groom’s father-in-law would direct the groom in the proper manner to use a woman’s mouth and throat. After spending his large load in his mother-in-law’s mouth [he had abstained from solitary vice for a month] she would then solemnly reveal her vagina and anus to her son-in-law and give general instructions on the proper usage of both holes. He would be ordered to rigorously use all three orifices of their daughter that afternoon and into the early morning hours. Both were told to be ready to offer proofs the following day. The groom was then also bathed and clothed and the respective parties then left the hovels and made their way through the hamlet to the center green for the ceremony.

The procession wended its way past each dwelling and stopped in turn. For in the tiny hamlet of Whipping-Hollow-On-Butterbum-Reach, the bride and groom were fully clothed, except for the opening in the back that framed the entire surface of the bare bottom. This bare bottom was given a single stroke with a willow cane at every hovel by the respective parents*. Thus by the time the moist-eyed bride and groom reached the green, they each sported thirty red stripes on formally pristine bottom cheeks. Once at the green, the bride and groom knelt side-by-side and leaned forward, thus prettily presenting themselves for further spanking.

The priest would begin the ceremony and when he asked who it was who gave away the bride, this was the cue for her new in-laws to strike her bottom hard with a thick leather strap created for this day. She received as many strokes as her age – thus providing a reason for parents to delay a daughter’s marriage – and after each one, she thanked God for her humbling chastisement. The groom received exactly the same, except his blows were delivered with a paddle also made special for the day. When the vows were exchanged, the parents* switched sides and implements and delivered ten spanks to their own children for the last time as single individuals. After the ring and the pronouncement by the priest of, “You may now spank the bride”, there was one last test for the painfully suffering and newly minted crying wife. Over her new husband’s knee she willingly went, he sitting on his sore bottom and with loving scrupulousness he used both the strap and paddle – gifts to the newlyweds – until he was completely satisfied the meaning of ‘Honor and Obey!’ had been imprinted on her swollen buttocks.

There of course was still the deflowering to occur and most couples at this point decided it was too far and too painful to walk to their new home and thus consummated their marriage right then on the green in front of the rapt inhabitants of the tiny hamlet of Whipping-Hollow-On-Butterbum-Reach. She would bend over her scarlet ass reaching for the clouds and he with his rampant prick plunging hard into virgin womb, that pain unnoticed in the scorching flames as her husband’s torso spanked her over and over again until he flooded her no longer virgin vagina with his impregnating sperm for the first of many times in succession.

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

There is comfort in anticipation

January 10, 2017lurvspanking9 Comments

A little over six months ago, I started writing again after a 5 and 1/2 year break. Since that time I have written around 200,000 words. That includes all the new posts here, plus the second half of a novel, the first quarter of another novel, and three novellas.

Almost two months ago, I was invited to join the Paranormal Erotic Romance writers co-op, by my good friend, Ina Morata, who writes wonderfully inventive erotica on her website and in published works. The editor and publisher of the anthologies, Devi Ansevi, who also writes erotica, has taught me much about editing. I am in a state of nervous anticipation for my first published spanking erotica this January, 11th 2017.

If you are a constant reader here, then you know that my style of writing is very eclectic. I write in all points-of-view and tenses, and even dialogue without quotation marks. My fiction for publication – hopeful publication – is more literary and intense than my flash fiction I post here. In anticipation of the Lust in Lace anthology, I would like to offer you something in the style of my long fiction. This story is new, not an excerpt, and serves as an illustration of my focus when writing a novella or novel.

Active Submission

A cool downdraft catches the burgundy-wine curtains. The sudden snap of cotton makes me jump. Through the open window of our bedroom, I can see lightning arcing in the dark sky. Too far still for thunder, the sound I hear is my heart pounding in anticipation.

Crack-snap, the fabric billows as the humid air rushes westwards: sucked into the storm’s base and thrust upwards with ferocious velocity, only to succumb to gravity’s embrace and return as gentle rain or harsh hail. Crack-snap. The steady whipping reminds me of why I am here, in the corner, like a naughty girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Soon, I will hear his heavy tread on the staircase, the scent of his cologne will send tingles to my pussy and his hot breath on the back of my neck will weaken my knees. Crack-snap. Crack-snap. The pace intensifies, my bottom clenches and relaxes in harmony with the noise. It soothes me. It awakes my passion.

Several generations ago, the scene would have been cornstalks to beyond the vanishing point, our 1850’s farmhouse surrounded by arable land instead of by cookie cutter subdivisions filled with unhappy wives and distant husbands. My husband, Bradley, had recognized in me, what the farmer knew instinctively to expect from his little woman. Obedience and respect in return for protection and support.

Crack-snap. Our bedroom is a masculine statement of dominance, creamy oak four-post king size bed, original pine floors, the walls, maple wainscoting with forest green and silver paper above. The covers are a cool cotton to match the drapes. Pillows and bolsters in rich jewel tones will be tossed aside to sleep. When I am bent over the bed with a sham under my hips, my toes barely graze the throw rug.

Each time, every time I am spanked, it only reinforces our bond, and reassures me I’ve made the correct decision. I shiver, the cooling breeze caresses me, strokes my heated pussy, teases my puckered nipples; I wiggle, trying to catch the proper angle.

Crack-snap. Crack-snap. Crack-snap.

How I wish the noise was the result of the flogger instead of the drapes. He is diabolical in the way he pushes my buttons through words and deeds. I have done nothing to deserve this, and yet, have done everything.

A typical evening, home from work, catching up with social media, when he speaks. A low, husky drawl, filled with meaning and purpose: his voice slips through my barriers as if they were gossamer. I have no defense against his wiles: my feminine wariness of the male predator purrs instead of snarls. He is mine, she says every time, and rolls over in submission.

When he says, go upstairs and prepare, my mouth foolishly asks why. A raised eyebrow speaks volumes. I stand on shaky legs. He reminds me once more of my choice, discipline is his alone to decide time and place.

In my corner, arms behind my back, nude but for my collar, I am the freest I have ever been. My submission is a gift, not to him, but to me. I crave the anticipation of knowing that the pain he will give me, helps to shatter the paralysis in my soul. Each paddle blow heals, each swipe of the cane removes another layer of deadened emotions, each leather strand that scourers my back, tears away the sticks and stones of childhood misery.

When he whips me: crack-snap, I find my happy place is that much closer to becoming permanent.

The thunder is nearly constant now. The searing strobes of atmospheric electrical discharges flashes in the darkened room. In between beats, his steps come closer, I hear the knob turn, the door thumps against the stopper. My breath seizes with love and longing.

He runs his forefinger down my spine. I shudder out an exhale.

He kisses my nape. Tears spring to my eyes.

And when he firmly grips my buttocks and asks who owns you, I sigh, and reply, you do, sir.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (6)

January 9, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

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.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (5)

January 8, 2017lurvspanking2 Comments

“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.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (4)

January 7, 2017lurvspanking3 Comments

“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.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 (Part 3)

January 5, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

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.

Never too late to take the plunge

January 4, 2017lurvspanking24 Comments

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.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (2)

January 3, 2017lurvspankingLeave a comment

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.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 4 Part (1)

January 2, 2017lurvspanking5 Comments

“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.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles Chapter Three Complete

January 1, 2017January 17, 2017lurvspanking5 Comments

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?”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (30)

December 31, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

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

December 30, 2016December 30, 2016lurvspanking8 Comments

“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)

December 29, 2016lurvspanking2 Comments

S.A.N.T.A.S. to the rescue

December 28, 2016lurvspanking8 Comments

Alex was miserable. Lonely too. Despite the gut-wrenching turmoil Christmas carols wrought on her psyche, she couldn’t stop ~~listening~~ wallowing to them. An entire year had somehow slipped past since the disastrous dinner with Chad. Expecting a ring in her stocking, instead she’d gotten the old heave-ho and we can still be friends speech.
So here it was, Christmas Eve, and where once there would have been a festive tree, presents and friends toasting, now there were empty vodka bottles, pizza boxes and take-out containers. Alex was no longer a hot mess, just a mess.
The sonorous ding-dong of the doorbell jolted her awake. Hungover, bleary-eyed and feeling greasy from days without bathing, Alex stumbled to the front door, unlatched the chain, bolt and lock and recklessly turned the knob.
“Yeah? What do you want?”
“Are you Alex Powell?”
“Who wants to know?”
The man – although Alex wasn’t too sure that was accurate – held up a laminated badge to her bloodshot eyes.
“My name is Fohsallire Elotriskan – that’s what it sounded like – and I’m with Santas.”
Alex clung to the tilted entryway. “Funny, you don’t look like a Santa. Where’s your costume and hat?”
She muttered, “I told the landlord the apartment isn’t level.”
“Not Santas, S.A.N.T.A.S.: spankings accrued naughty transgression adjustment squad.”
All she could say was, “Huh?” before there was a flurry of sparkling multi-colored flakes around her face.
When she regained her senses, she was in her bed, the sheets were clean, her body didn’t reek and she was no longer wearing ratty sweats, but a lacy red negligee. She bolted upright and yelped when she saw the man with the iPad sitting on the end of the bed.
Amazingly, Alex’s head was clear and she felt great. “Who are you again?”
“I’m Forrester Erikson at your service.” He tapped the tablet and said, “You submitted a questionnaire on Santa’s website in which you described your current situation. The pathos moved the Big Guy – who knows why – so you were selected to receive the deluxe S.A.N.T.A.S. treatment. Is that clear enough for you, Alex?”
“Clear as mud, Gump. What the hell is a Santa treatment?”
“Very simple concept, my dear. If you would be so kind as to join me in your living room, I will show you.” He bowed and left.
Alex threw on a cashmere robe and hastened out of her bedroom. Her mouth dropped open in shock. The room was pristine. A large fir tree sat in one corner decorated with lights and ornaments. Presents spilled forth around the skirt. Candles flickered and the scent of cinnamon filled the apartment.
“You are hosting your annual holiday party in two hours, Alex. If this meets your requirements listed in your missive, then in order to claim it, you need only receive the S.A.N.T.A.S. treatment. If not…” He snapped his fingers and scene instantly reverted to the filthy, stinking room it once was.
Alex clutched her head and stomach as the hangover rushed back in.
The festive view returned as did her equilibrium.
“Do I need to demonstrate again?” Forrester asked with poised fingers.
“No! No, that’s fine, I get the point.” Alex slumped on the couch. “Do you mind explaining what it is you want from me?”
“Ah, we don’t want anything from you, we want to give you the gift of a do-over. All you need to do is sign the form and receive your gift. Then all of this,” he waved at the tree, “is yours.”
“And the gift is…?”
“A spanking of course, Alex, for all the transgressions you’ve accrued since Chad dumped you.”
Alex put her head in her hands. “I thought that’s what you said earlier.”
“It’s only a short spanking, Alex, one-time only.”
She crossed her arms. “And how long is the offer good for?”
Forrester grimaced. “About one more minute I’m afraid. I have several more stops, so a simple yes or no will suffice.”
“I can’t believe it got so bad,” she muttered. “OK, where do I sign?”
“Is that a yes, Alex?”
“Yes, it’s a yes, Forrester, yes to the spanking,” she snapped. “Do you have to be so smug about it?”
“Not smug, Alex, I take no pleasure in spanking I’ll have you know.”
“Riiiiiiiight.”
“Well, maybe a little.”
She signed the tablet on all the appropriate pages and then, with bare bottom uppermost, lay over Forrester’s lap.
His iPad starting playing ‘Jingle Bells’. Over the soft pops of leather meeting flesh he explained, “There are ten carols on Alex’s playlist. I will spank you in time to the music. Feel free to sing along.”
Alex did indeed sing along to ‘Jingle Bells’, ‘We Three Kings’, ‘Little Drummer Boy’ and all the rest. Her constant – ouch, ouch, ouch – added a certain je ne sais quoi to the happy tunes as her bottom received the long overdue attention it deserved. By the time it was over, her bottom was a festive candy cane red from top to tip. Forrester provided her with a box of tissues and a copy of the contract sent to her email.
“Merry Christmas, Alex,” were his final words as he placed the leather paddle among the ornaments.
The party was a roaring success, her friends, if they noticed she couldn’t sit down, didn’t say anything about the short leather paddle hanging on the tree. Best of all, the gift from S.A.N.T.A.S. even included a brand new beau, who as it turned out, thought Alex would enjoy a good spanking on their first date as the clock ticked away into the New Year.
He was right and they lived happily ever after.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (28)

December 27, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (27)

December 26, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 3 Part (26)

December 22, 2016lurvspanking2 Comments

“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.