{ASSTR 02} Caribbean Capers {Big Billie} (F/f spank nc, circ)
Caribbean Capers
A Sally Trubshawe Henderson Story in Three Parts
By Big Billie
© Big Billie 2005. Not to be distributed or sold for monetary
gain.
Author's Statement: Big Billie is opposed to spanking and
circumcision except for consenting adults. However, spanking
and circumcision sexually excite him, so he writes about
them.
Part 1: Miss Joan Johnson Asks for It
I still vividly remember that trip to the West Indies. It
was in 1965 when I was 22 years old. I was a newly qualified
teacher and I was having some difficulty in finding a suitable
full time job.
It was then that I saw an advertisement, complete with box
number, in 'The Teacher' magazine. It was in the name of a man
called Johnson, and it offered a temporary post for one year
in Barbados for a female governess. The successful applicant
was being hired to teach Advanced Level History, Geography and
French to Mr. Johnson's daughter.
The interview was with Mr. Johnson in London, while he was
there on one of his business trips. He seemed to like me and
it went well. The pay was not very good, but it included
travel expenses and board and lodging, and this, plus the
added bonus of a year in a beautiful tropical paradise, was
sufficient to get me on the jet to my Caribbean destination.
On the evening of my arrival, there was a meeting. Mr. and
Mrs. Johnson introduced me to my pupil, Joan. It was an
experience that I found most unnerving. Joan was a lot bigger,
physically, than I was. I am a petite brunette, about 5'3"
tall. At that time, I was fit and sporty, with a background in
ballet (at which I was a qualified instructor) and in
gymnastics. Joan, however, must have been 5'10," or even,
perhaps, 5'11" tall. Unlike me, she was big boned and buxom.
At 17 years old she had the full-bodied figure of an older
matron, except that her waist and tummy were nicely curved
inwards and her neck was long, slender and graceful. I also
noticed that Joan's hair was long, straight, thick and black
and her cheeks a healthy shade of pink. Her eyes were
stunning. The eyebrows, lashes and pupils were jet black, the
eyeballs as white as alabaster, and the irises a deep and
translucent blue. Joan's skin, for example on her neck, upper
arms and bosom where it could best be observed, was sun-
tanned. This was to be expected as the mansion where she was
living had a garden that stretched down to the beach. I was to
learn later that, in places where it had not caught the sun
such as on her breasts, buttocks, lower tummy and pussy,
Joan's skin was a beautiful milky white. Joan's breasts were
shapely, hemispherical and very well developed. I could see
through her thin blouse that they had to be encased in a large
and substantial bra that held them into a fetching pneumatic
cleavage. My pupil was wearing thin shorts that were a little
too small for her, and I could see that her legs, and
particularly her bare thighs, were thick and muscular, and
that her bottom was large, plump and meaty.
All this, however, would have interested and stimulated,
rather than disconcerted, me if I had not sensed from Joan's
attitude that she disliked my presence in her home, and that
she did not want me as her governess. I picked up this
resentment partly from my observation of her sulky and hostile
reaction to me, and partly from what her father said.
Apparently, Joan had been withdrawn from her boarding school
in England because of an attitude problem towards her teachers
and her work.
Now, during my teaching practice the previous year I had
been placed in a large comprehensive school in London that had
some serious discipline problems. At that time I was a mere
rookie and I had not coped well. In fact, the bigger teenaged
girls, in particular, had run me ragged, to my deep
humiliation and embarrassment. I had seen this year in the
tropics as a welcome break from all that hassle, and was
annoyed that Joan's father had not been completely honest with
me at interview in London.
"From what you are now telling me, Mr. Johnson," I said
testily, "I feel that I am unsuitable for this job. I am newly
qualified, and I do not have either the experience or the
authority to cope with a difficult and unwilling pupil." I was
ready to fly back to Britain at my own cost, but at last Mr.
and Mrs. Johnson persuaded me to stay. It was agreed that I
would give the job a trial run for 6 weeks, after which time I
could return home, at their expense, if I wanted to.
What happened next amazed and transfixed me. At the end of
our meeting, Mr. Johnson rounded on his daughter, and asked
her to look him in the eye. "I have had enough of your
disobedience and insolence towards your teachers, young lady,"
he said. "Why, Miss Trubshawe here was almost sent scurrying
back to England at the mere report of your naughtiness." He
then turned to me. "Sally," he said, "I am sorry that I misled
you in London, but you were the best person I interviewed, and
I badly wanted to get you here. I cannot undo my deviousness,
but at least I can try to give you the authority you need to
do the job." With that, he rose and walked over to a cupboard
at the side of the room. Rooting inside it, he pulled out a
large gentleman's plimsoll. "Here, take this," he said, "and
keep it safe. And if madam here gives you any lip or cheek,
then use it to slap her down. You have my full permission and
authority to employ whatever programme of corporal punishment
you feel is appropriate." He turned back to Joan. "Well, my
girl, what do you think of that, then?" Joan was clearly
shocked at this sudden and unexpected initiative, and her pink
cheeks blushed a deeper shade of red. There followed a period
of tense, embarrassed silence that seemed to go on forever.
Then, just as the tension was beginning to get oppressive,
Joan made her reply. "But I'm too big to be spanked" she
blurted out in deep confusion and embarrassment. Her father
gave a wry smile, shrugged his shoulders and left it at that.
Meanwhile, I was stunned at Mr. Johnson's salacious proposal,
and at Joan's sudden and unexpected use of the saucy and
stimulating word "spanked." In the sultry evening air, beads
of sweat stood out on my forehead, my mouth went as dry as
desert sand, and my heart pounded fiercely against my rib
cage.
For the first few weeks things went quite well. Her father's
words seemed to have had some effect on Joan, and although
neither of us made any allusion to what he had said, his
threat, and the authority he had given me, seemed to spur her
on to scholarly efforts. I was still very nervous, however.
For much of the time, Mr. Johnson was away on business, and he
usually took his wife with him. Thus, I was left alone with
Joan, with only Maggie, her old black nanny, and three black
menservants in the house.
Worse still, as time went on, Joan became lazy and
unreliable in her work. Getting her down to breakfast at a
reasonable hour, for example, got more and more difficult,
despite Maggie's best efforts. Eventually, I decided to ask
Maggie for her advice. She was clearly very fond of Joan, and
was as worried as her parents were at the way she was
squandering her education. "I don't think talking to her will
do any good, missie," she told me. "I should lay down some
rules. Then tell her what they are, and that if she does not
keep them, you will use that slipper like Mr. Johnson told
you." We had this conversation at 8.15 a.m. Joan should have
been down to breakfast 15 minutes earlier, but did not appear
for another 20. When she arrived I asked Maggie to stay with
us while I lectured her. I was fed up with her insolence, I
told her, and with her persistent lateness and lethargy. If
there were any more lack of respect, unpunctuality or laziness
I would use the authority that her father had given me and
discipline her physically.
This was the first time that I had mentioned corporal
punishment to Joan. She blushed, partly in embarrassment and
partly in anger that I should dare to bring it up, I thought.
Then she blurted out that she did not intend to be spoken to
like that, by me or by anyone else. There followed a tirade
about how she had never wanted me as her tutor in the first
place, how she had no intention of obeying my every beck and
call, etc., etc. Then, calling me some choice and offensive
names, she flounced off to her room.
During Joan's tantrum, I sat there helplessly. In my view,
things were going from bad to worse and there was nothing I
could do about it. But then Maggie came to my aid. She pointed
out that soon Joan would be going for her morning shower, and
she said that, when she came out of the bathroom, a little
reception party would be waiting for her. "You go into the
study, missie," she said conspiratorially, "And take that big
slipper with you." I did as I was told, and sat in the chair
behind the big desk, slapping the plimsoll nervously against
my left palm as I waited. It was, I noted, a size 10, very
light and floppy, and extremely well worn, with a large, thin,
smooth, flat rubber sole. Then I had a bright idea. I put the
plimsoll in my brief case, clicked and strapped the case shut,
and deposited it in the far corner of the room.
Meanwhile, Joan had come out from her shower. As she was on
her way back to her room she had a rude shock. Maggie, who
acted as the _major domum_ when Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were
away, had ordered the butler, the cook and the groom to seize
her and to drag her to the study, which they did with some
relish. Soon, she was standing before my desk, disoriented,
dishevelled and angry.
"You know why you are here," I said abruptly, trying to keep
my words to a minimum to hide my nervousness. "You have two
choices. You can submit willingly or we can use force. Shall I
tell these gentlemen to go, or will they be needed?" There
followed a long period of embarrassed silence, until at last
Joan peevishly turned to the menservants. "Get out" she said
abruptly and rudely. "And you too," she added to Maggie. "Oh
no," I said, firmly, "I want Maggie to see this." I then
paused, and, keeping up my stern disciplinarian act, I looked
Joan straight in the eyes. It was an effort to conceal my fear
and lack of confidence, but I managed it. She stared back
defiantly and insolently for a while, but then averted her
gaze and looked at the floor, her spirit shaken, but not, I
felt, as yet subdued.
"Right," I said sharply, and at my words Joan looked up at me
again, this time with an uncertain and less confident gaze.
"Take off your bath robe please." The victim seemed physically
jolted by this suggestion and blushed a deep red. There was a
very embarrassing silence that seemed to go on for hours. "But
I've got nothing on underneath," Joan finally blurted out, and
for the first time she sounded vulnerable. At this news my
heart leapt into my mouth. This was exactly what I had been
hoping for. I found the prospect of catching Joan "on the
bare" both stimulating and satisfying in the extreme. If I had
said anything my voice would have cracked, so I kept silent. I
tried to face my adversary out with a nonchalant and slightly
amused smile. After what seemed an age, but which was more
likely about ten seconds, I motioned to Joan to comply with my
order. By now, I could see that she was sweating profusely in
the humidity of the tropical mid-morning heat, and was
beginning to look trapped. It seemed to be slowly dawning on
her that, although she was much bigger, and almost certainly
physically stronger, than I was, I had on my side an amount of
effective force that she could not match. I kept staring into
Joan's translucent bright blue eyes. By now, my confidence was
growing as Joan's waned, and I began to realise that, if I
played my cards right, I could almost certainly emerge from
this interesting and stimulating personality clash as the
mistress - both of Joan, and of the situation. Eventually I
added, "If I have to tell you again, madam, you will be
sorry."
Then, it actually happened. I watched intently as Joan
slowly, reluctantly and petulantly undid the bow on the belt
of her bathrobe. Soon, the belt was hanging loose and the robe
fell open, revealing a stunning nude body. Then, looking
flustered and embarrassed, Joan pulled the bathrobe backwards
over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor in a heap.
Wow, will I ever forget that moment! Suddenly, standing
bare-naked before me, at the peak of her physical beauty and
fitness, was one of the loveliest ladies that I have ever
seen. She was so gorgeous, big, strapping and sexy that she
might have been the Greek goddess, Juno, as depicted by Titian
in his painting "the Judgement of Paris." But Joan was much
more youthful and nubile than Juno. Juno, in ancient Greek
mythology, was the wife of the greatest god, Zeus. She must
therefore have been an older and more experienced lady with
ample authority to avoid the embarrassment, indignity and
stinging humiliation of getting her bare bottom smacked!
Anyway, to return to Joan: from her long, swan-like neck,
past her voluptuous breasts, large but youthfully pert, down
to her trim, firm, inviting stomach and her broad but
perfectly tapered waist, she was exquisite. Further down, the
parts of her anatomy that I was more immediately concerned
with for disciplinary purposes were equally appealing and even
sexier. I could not see Joan's bottom for the moment, since
she was facing me, but her thighs bulged gently and gracefully
outwards, and her plump, hairy labial lips curved into her
crotch at the tops of her thighs, where they were lost in a
downwardly pointing triangular mass of thick pubic ringlets,
black and curly. Then I noticed something else that I found
very sexy. Joan's arms, neck, midriff, thighs and legs had
been tanned and toasted by the sun to a beautiful golden
brown. But the sexiest bits, namely her pneumatic breasts, her
lower tummy and her crotch had been covered by her bikini and
were, as described above, milk white. Finally, I noticed that,
sprouting from underneath Joan's armpits, were two large,
thick, luxurious and curly clumps of black hair that, together
with her hirsute minge, formed a downwardly facing isosceles
triangle of three dark, inviting fur balls. The total effect
was stunning. Yet again, my resolution was shattered. Oh, God,
I thought, what am I to do? I sat there in my chair behind the
desk, and gazed intently at the naked lady before me. I do not
know how long this went on, since I was so absorbed that I
lost all track of time.
My victim looked so stunning and so ravishing that I do not
think that I could have gone through with my disciplinary
exploit if I had not got mad. But, as I stared at my big bare
pupil, I slowly began to feel the anger rise within me. At
first, it was towards all those big cheeky girls at the London
comprehensive where I had done my teaching practice. I am from
the cathedral city of Chester, and they were far too smart,
metropolitan and street-wise for me. Frankly, they really gave
me the run around. Worse, I think that some of the boys had
admired and fancied their young trainee teacher, and this had
made the girls jealous. "Ouch!" I thought to myself as I
recalled my humiliation. "Those young madams were almost
criminally insolent. They showed me absolutely no mercy. And
now here is another young madam trying it on as well. Well
this one is not going to get away with it. I will tame her
spirit and show her who is the boss. I will cool her courage.
Right, madam, pride comes before a fall. Prepare to get
yourself slapped down good and hard."
With such thoughts as these I sat for a long while, eyeing
up my prey and working up my courage. As I did so I had one of
what were to be a number of very sexy thoughts. It was a very
hot day, even by the standards of the West Indies, and I
noticed again that the heat and humidity of the morning were
building up sharply as the time approached noon. Joan, despite
her nakedness and her recent cleansing and refreshing shower,
was sweating ever more profusely, and was silently squirming.
Her whole body was glowing. The two luxuriant clumps of hair
protruding from beneath her armpits were damp and soggy. Her
skin was moist, salty and glistening with perspiration, and
beads of sweat stood out on her forehead and on the tops of
her shoulders, from where they from time to time trickled down
her face, neck and upper body. From the expression on her face
and the way that she was breathing heavily I could see that my
nubile pupil was feeling harassed and flustered. "Wow, lady!"
I pondered, my imagination excitedly bursting into rhyming
couplets:
With sexy remarks I'll make you wriggle
All hot and bothered, what a giggle!
Then with my pump I'll play the rotter
I'll bother you more and make you hotter!
Finally I spoke, as slowly and as authoritatively as I could
given my racing heart. "Right, miss," I said. "Bring me your
father's plimsoll, please. It is in my brief case over there."
And I airily pointed to the corner of the room where I had
just put my case. This cunt teasing little touch has now
become one of my trademarks when I am slapping butt. It is not
always logistically feasible, of course, but when it is I
always rile and humiliate the victim by making her fetch and
hand to me the implement for her own chastisement. On this
occasion, however, I had my doubts that Joan would actually do
it. At first, she stood her ground and glowered back at me,
outraged and angry. But I steadily returned her stare. I tried
to put a confident smirk of triumph on my face. But really I
felt neither confident nor triumphant, but very nervous and
unsure of myself. Yet again, however, my bluff worked. I
watched entranced as Joan faced away from me. For the first
time in my life (but, happily, not the last!) I caught an
eyeful of her big bare white bottom as she turned it towards
my desk, and I ogled it intently as Joan moved to do my
bidding. She undid the clasp of the case, but then nervously
botched her first attempts to undo the two short straps on
each side of the lock. This was hardly surprising since I had
buckled them as tightly as I could to cause her this very
embarrassment. Eventually, however, fuming and blushing
profusely, Joan succeeded in extracting the pump from the
case. She then ungraciously plonked it down on the desk in
front of me. "No," I said, stretching out my open right hand.
"Give it to me. Gently. Onto my hand if you please." ["Soon,"
I thought to myself, "I will be giving it to _you_ my girl.
But it won't be gently. And it will be onto a part of your
anatomy that's a lot funnier, sexier, saucier, kinkier, more
perverted, more intimate and more embarrassing than your
hand!"]
When the plimsoll was firmly in my grip, I gave Joan my next
order. "You see that small red mat in the centre of the room,"
I said. "Please stand on it and face the window." By now I was
beginning to enjoy myself.
I now had my second clear, uninterrupted view of Joan's
voluptuous derrière, and again the sight made me catch my
breath sharply. Compared to my own trim posterior Joan's
bottom seemed enormous. The backs of her thighs and her calves
had been tanned a beautiful deep golden brown by the sun. But
her bottom displayed a downwardly pointing equilateral
triangle of white meat where Joan's bikini bottom had
protected her more intimate bits from the sun's rays. The
bottom point of this sexy triangle was lost in the backwardly
sprouting bushy black hairs of the pussy meat. And what a
bottom Joan's was! Her soft buttocks appeared to be held
together by the suppleness of youth into two large, milk-white
pear-shaped hemispheres, nubile and quivering. In my time it
has given me great pleasure to have smacked the bare bottoms
of a number of black ladies of Afro- and Afro-Caribbean ethnic
origin. I have noticed that the buttocks of such beauties are
tight and taut, so that the slipper almost seems to bounce
back off them in a most pleasurable and enjoyable fashion.
White ladies, however, such as Joan, bring their own
disciplinary delights. In contrast to their black sisters,
they seem to have softer, floppier and more vulnerable
bottoms, into which the plimsoll bites nicely leaving
beautiful sexy red indentations. These obviously show up
better on white, rather than on dark, skin, but this is not
the whole story. The really overexciting aspect is the way the
nubile, fleshy meat of their bottoms shudders, wobbles and
quivers to the stinging blows of the pump. At this moment in
time, of course, I had all of these exquisite delights yet to
taste, but I was still able to fantasise about them to the
extent that I could already feel the wetness in my crotch, and
my clitoris standing hard and engorged at the top outer edge
of my pussy.
"Now," I said. "Put your feet together, please, and touch
your toes, keeping your legs straight." Slowly and
reluctantly, Joan obeyed my instructions and bent forward to
touch her toes. "OK," I added. "Please wait there for me until
I am ready." For my part, I did not rush. For the moment I
remained seated and began to admire this new rear view of my
naked pupil. Wow! She was stunning! Soon my heart was pounding
and my palms were sweating as I gazed, or, rather, leered, at
the sexiest thing that I think I have ever seen. This was what
I was later to come to refer to as Joan's plump, juicy pussy
meat, that chunky, sexy, fleshy bit where her bum curved
around to her pussy crack. Phwoarr, how did I keep from
fainting as I gawped at that rear view of Joan's quim, at the
two meaty labial lips, and at the thick, curly ball of black
pubic hair that sprouted backwards from those lips in
luxuriant profusion? I resolved there and then that it was
that part of Joan's anatomy, the soft, sexy undercarriage of
her bum where the meat was at it most plump and tender, that I
would target for no less than six of my intended twelve slaps.
That luxurious pussy hair, sprouting backwards in a rich
clump, would be my slipper's target. Indeed, I thought, I
would try to slap through it as if attempting to bring the
slipper's sole into contact with the plump, hairy meat of the
labial lips at the base of the _mons veneris_.
Meanwhile, Joan was bending over obediently as per
instructions. Her white buttocks looked big and vulnerable as
they stood out in sharp contrast to her sunburnt back, thighs
and calves. Yes, my girl, I thought to myself. That's a
beautiful piece of raw, tender rump steak that you've got
there. It's escaped a tanning from the sun, but I will see it
well roasted by my slipper! Then, slowly, I rose from my seat
and walked over to Joan, positioning myself to her left hand
side at right angles to her big bare bottom. I then drew back
my right arm, as my right hand firmly grasped the slipper.
Yes, I thought, there seems to be ample room for a good, wide
swing.
Part 2: Miss Joan Johnson Gets It – Ouch!
For the next few minutes I delivered (to Joan's bottom
rather than to her face) a stern, headmistressy lecture. In
the course of this I stressed the need to show respect and
obedience to teachers, the necessity of appropriate punishment
for the disrespectful, and the duty of the young to submit to
discipline justly enforced by their elders and betters.
[Respect! Elders! What a pontificating madam I was! I was less
than 5 years older than Joan!] I laid it on the line, and I
really rubbed it in. She had nonchalantly and arrogantly
assumed that she could treat me like dirt, and seemed to think
that it was funny and of no consequence when she insulted me.
But to me her insouciant contempt was not funny at all. It was
a very serious offence. It undermined my professional role,
and made it impossible for me to do my job. On a purely
personal level, I added, I had a right to be treated with
courtesy. Besides, I was a proud lady, and I liked my own way.
So I was going to show her who was the boss, and pull her up
short in her tracks. When I had finished with her, she too
would no longer consider her insubordination either amusing or
trivial. I then gave a résumé, which I had rehearsed to myself
beforehand, of Joan's transgressions, particularly of her
rudeness, her name-calling and other manifestations of her
lack of respect, adding that she had asked for her comeuppance
over and over again. She richly deserved it, and now she was
going to get it. And this, I concluded, was only the first
dose. There was plenty more where this came from, as she would
soon be finding out. I was her governess and, from now on, I
intended to govern her. And my governance would be fair but
firm. If she did not show me proper respect, it would not be
detentions or extra work. Big as she was, I would punish her
like a naughty little girl and she would suffer the
humiliation and the indignity of a bare-bottomed spanking. Her
head, and her attitude to discipline, were both as hard as
bone, and I could make no impression on them. But, as she
would soon be finding out to her embarrassment and discomfort,
her bare, unprotected bottom would prove softer, fleshier,
vulnerable and much more impressionable! Throughout this
harangue, Joan remained bent over, squirming, seething,
indignant and angry, but, at the same time, submissive,
compliant and now seemingly resigned to her fate. She did not
even tell me to get on with it, although, in the
circumstances, I suppose that this was understandable!
Well, the time for the denouement had now arrived and I
nervously took up my stance with my legs slightly apart, still
positioned at ninety degrees to Joan's bare bottom. As the
moment of truth loomed near, I was beset with the jitters yet
again. The situation was so sexy that I thought at one point
that I would swoon or melt into jelly. But, at last, I
regained my composure. I even had a sexy idea for what to do
next. I lined up the plimsoll onto the target area and pressed
it to the bare meat. Then, with a sudden motion of my wrist, I
flicked the slipper back and then sharply forward again, thus
slapping the flat sole across the naked, exposed pussy meat of
Joan's undercarriage. My intention was to address Joan's bare
rump like a golfer addresses his ball, except that my movement
was faster and sharper, and I carried through with my flick,
rather than stopping it when it reached its target. I thus
used the slipper rather like a horsewoman uses her riding
crop, and the slap was just hard enough to be sharp and
disciplinary, rather than playful. Joan's plump white cunt
flesh wobbled invitingly from the force of the blow. "Aw!"
exclaimed the victim, in a rueful, miffed tone. I then left
the plimsoll in the position where it had landed while I
contemplated my aim. Meanwhile the pussy hairs protruded
saucily from around the rim of the sole (as, of course, they
protruded even more saucily from around the rim of the quim,
at that moment temporarily covered by the sole!) "Come on, my
girl," I said. "Those legs are not straight enough." I then
gave Joan another stinging little flick with the pump, right
across the pussy hairs again, applying it this time slightly
harder. Joan was clearly displeased at this. "Ouch!" she
responded testily. Meanwhile I gently pushed her head down
towards the floor. "No. Stretch," I added. "Go on, right down.
No." (Flick, crack!) "Not good enough." I thus used the
slipper to gee up my victim for the third time. This time I
slapped it home right across the twat yet again, and just that
little bit harder still, so that, as indicated, it landed
right where the other two slaps had landed with a crack that
was sexily and satisfyingly shrill and high pitched, and that
left me in no doubt at all that I had hit the target flush and
spot on. This third flick certainly had the required effect.
Although the blow was nowhere near as hard as the ones to
come, Joan was obviously quite determined not to take another
one like that if she could avoid it. "Aw! That hurt!" she
cried, and again she sounded both rueful and angry. But by now
she had got the message, and she started sweating, straining
and grunting to touch her toes in the required fashion.
"That's still barely acceptable," I concluded, "But just this
once I will let you off. Since this is the first time that you
have taken the pump I will ascribe your failure to obey to
inexperience and make a start. But keep stretching downwards
and straining hard, madam. The slightest hint of any
relaxation and you will catch it again, and harder!"
Over the years these saucy little tail flicks with the pump
before the spanking proper commences have become part of my
stock in trade. They are a sexy and amusing piece of foreplay
before the fun starts in earnest and I go on to really screw
the victim! I usually apply from three to six of them, and I
make each flick just a little bit harder than the previous
one. I always make sure that these slaps land across the back
of the pussy hairs, smack onto the twat against the plump
nubile cunt meat, and that each slap lands absolutely flush
and exactly on top of the one before it, so that the tingling
builds up incrementally. And, of course, I flick the older and
bigger girls (the nubile ones with meatier twats and pussy
hair!) just that little bit more freely and often, and just
that little bit harder. The slaps, at least the first two or
three of them, do not, I suppose, really hurt all that much.
But they carry an infuriating little sting and are a saucy
prelude and reminder of just how sharp the following spanks
will come. The girls hate them! For example, the big strapping
16 and 17 year olds in 5C resent the 12 proper spanks that
they normally get and seethe in anger when they have to take
extra wallops, up to a total, as they see it, of between 15
and 18. And wow, my goodness but it doesn't half slap them
into line! If not by flick three, then almost invariably by
flick six, even the most recalcitrant madam is puffing and
panting and straining madly to comply with my orders! I thus
always ensure that my victims' bottoms are well stretched when
they take the pump in earnest, and that there is no
possibility of the girls hardening their muscles and
tightening their rumps against the blows that follow. Also, by
the time the pussy meat has taken between three and six of
these slaps from my large, flat slipper, an amusingly ample
area of it is beautifully pink, tingly and tender -
tenderised, you might say, like prime rump steak, in
preparation for the roasting to come! Wow, how I love a soft,
vulnerable target! Meanwhile, the victim is thinking, as I
crack some merry quip such as "now we can begin," that if it
tingles this much before I have even started, how much more
will it sting by the time I have finished. Needless to say, to
encourage such thoughts, I pause after I have administered my
flicks to give the victim ample opportunity to ponder what is
to come, and to allow her bottom plenty of time to shudder in
anticipation of what is about to hit it. During this pregnant
pause, I expect the victim to continue to stretch, strain and
grunt in her efforts to bend over as far as she can. Any sign
of relaxation and I give her another flick, quite a hard one
this time to indicate that I am losing my patience with her.
And if that does not work she takes the pump again, several
times if necessary, until I am sure that she is striving hard
enough. Then, if she is so foolish as to relax during her
chastisement, she gets another, extra, sharp flick or two.
Twelve is my record total for preparatory flicks. I applied
them across the rump of a rebellious 17-year-old madam who at
first flatly refused to do what I said. By slap 9 or so,
however, I had broken her and then, to teach her a strict
lesson, another 3 sharp cracks re-echoed around the room as I
gave her another three hard flicks across the thin, tightly
stretched gusset of her gym knickers, thus: "Right madam, now
in future remember. (Flick 10!) Do (Flick 11!!) as you are
told (Flick 12!!!). OK, that's better, now we can start."
Then, after that, she got the usual 12 of the best, slapped
home with just that little extra bit of spite and venom. Wow!
From then on she was firmly resolved never to take another 24
swats like that ever again. At subsequent spankings she always
obeyed my instructions with great promptness and tremendous
enthusiasm!
But I digress; let me return to Joan. "Yes, my girl," I
thought as I congratulated myself on my handiwork and admired
her pink, tingling rump. "I bet that stung. But that was only
the beginning. Now I'm really going to make your pubic
ringlets fly. Your pussy meat will soon be wobbling and
tingling a lot more than that!" I then took careful aim as I
again gently pressed the sole of the slipper into the bare,
pussy meat, now all pink and tingling, and repeated my golfer
addressing the ball act. Next, I brought back my arm, bending
my knees and keeping the slipper nice and low so that I could
strike the inwardly sloping pubic meat flush with a slightly
upward blow, right where I had just been flicking it, and
where I had then pushed the slipper's sole to the pink, naked,
tingly cunt flesh. This was my moment of triumph, and I
savoured it for several seconds. As I did so, I felt another
violent surge of anger and frustration well up inside me. I
thought of how Joan had been systematically rude and
disrespectful to me for the last two or three weeks, setting
my feelings and my self esteem at naught. Who does this
flipperty-gibbert think that she is, I thought. I'll give it
to her! Big as she is, I'll cut her to size! No matter where
it ends I am going to teach her a short, sharp lesson that she
will never forget. I will make her wince and shudder to
remember this day, even when she is an old lady. After a
little while pondering such thoughts, I was seething with
anger and determined to let Joan have it. I felt spiteful and
malicious and I wanted revenge. "Right, madam," I thought in
exultation and triumph, "It's show time! I will make you feel
sorry for yourself! I will make you regret what you have done!
I will make you rue the day that you ever dared to cross ME! I
will tame you and slap you into line! I will punish you
strictly and severely for your insolence! Take that!"
I then brought round the pump, very smartly and firmly, onto
Joan's plump tingly pink pussy meat. By now I was, as I have
said, hopping mad at Joan. But, by a great effort of will, I
still managed to control my anger. I was careful not to use
every ounce of my strength, since I did not want to hurt Joan
too badly. I was determined to humiliate her and to make her
tingle like hell. But I wanted to sweat her, wind her up and
get her hopping mad, not to break her or to reduce her to
tears. Even so, the pump fairly whistled through the air.
Fortunately, and more by luck than judgement, my aim was
impeccable. I had never used corporal punishment on anyone
before, and I was very green and inexperienced. But luckily my
first blow landed absolutely flush, right slap across both
bare buttocks, just above the backs of the thighs, with a
loud, crisp, crack. As the blow landed, I also noticed that,
as I had anticipated, Joan's tousle of black pussy hairs was
blown and scattered every which way by the breeze from the
pump, and the pink cunt meat quivered and wobbled in the most
alluring and sexy fashion. The sharp crack that rang out as
the slipper hit home, and the stimulating sight of Joan's
flying pussy hairs and shuddering bum flesh, caused my
fluttering heart to leap under my rib cage. But there was
something else that I also found unbelievably sexy. Joan's
quivering arse meat wobbled the sole of my plimsoll, and the
wobbling was transmitted to the palm and fingers of my right
hand as I gripped the pump around its heel. It was a delicious
feeling! It almost felt as if I had slapped Joan with the flat
of my hand. However, because I had not used my hand, but a gym
pump, my palm and fingers were tingling a lot less, and Joan's
bottom much, much more!
I next gave a satisfied grin as I heard Joan gasp audibly.
She was clearly shocked and taken aback by the force of the
blow and she breathed in sharply through her teeth. "Yes,
madam," I thought, "I may be green, but I'll redden you. Now
I've got you on the hop I won't half make you bite your lip."
Then my mind started racing with all sorts of sexy quips. "If
you're rude, I'll slap you nude." "When you offend, you'll
bare and bend." And so on.
I was compos mentis enough, however, to pause before
delivering my next slap. I took my time and waited for Joan's
bottom to tingle. Soon I triumphed to see the sexy red imprint
of my slipper in sharp outline, like a red coloured tattoo
etched across the plumpest and sexiest parts of both buttocks,
right where they were already pink and tingling from my three
preparatory slaps. When she got married in a few years time, I
mused, that was exactly where her husband (lucky man!) would
be slamming her with his stiff and excited cock. Joan was a
big, lusty girl, and she would enjoy that. But for the moment
that part of her body which would later give her exquisite and
voluptuous pleasure was being slammed hard not by a young
man's cock but by my slipper, and her cunt flesh was taking
the rap of a sexy and humiliating punishment. What a superb
way to chastise a big, cocky teenager! She was of marriageable
age, large, lusty, and almost certainly eager for sex. But
instead of the delights of the marriage bed, she was taking
this stinging, undignified and demeaning chastisement. She was
being spanked like a naughty little girl (only MUCH harder!)
right across the most adult, womanly, intimate and sexy part
of her body (the "X" certificate bit). What a beautiful and
poetic method of humbling her and bringing her to heel! She
would surely shudder and wince years later as her husband
rhythmically walloped her cunt meat with his cock to recall
this earlier walloping, far more humiliating and painful yet,
in a kinky kind of way, every bit as sexy. In fact, for me, as
the excited observer and a keen aficionado of spanking, it was
considerably sexier. Yet again, doggerel verses formed in my
imagination. "It's not a cock that slams your cranny, it's a
pump slapped hard across your fanny."
Meanwhile, from the middle of the red weal across Joan's
buttocks, the voluptuous curly black tousle of pussy hair
still sprouted backwards from between her bum cheeks, having
now reformed itself into a thick ball after its recent
scattering. This too, I found unbelievably sexy. Those thick,
bushy black hairs were the physical and biological proof of
Joan's puberty, adulthood, and femininity, and they were
blatantly, jauntily and indelicately sprouting from the very
seat and centre of her sexuality. It stimulated me almost to
orgasm to think how that fur-ball of pubic hair was about to
be scattered again and again by my trusty pump, and of how the
nubile cunt meat from which it sprung was about to be rapped,
wrung, stung and reddened. My common sense told me that Joan
was far too old, far too big, far too nubile, and far too sexy
to suffer this stinging indignity. It was all too
preposterously funny, absurdly droll, ludicrously amusing and
ridiculously hilarious. In other words, it was the most
exquisite and perfect comeuppance for her. Oh wow! This
revenge of mine, I thought to myself, was very, very sweet.
More sexy quips formed in my mind: "Yes, my bonny bird, just
feel how I'll ruffle your tail feathers. I'll singe your minge
for you and no mistake."
Joan's sexy predicament struck me as being very, very funny.
But she clearly thought that it was anything but a joke. The
force of that first spank, and the loud, sharp crack that it
made as it struck home, had clearly been a distinct and
unexpected shock for her, and it made her hopping mad at me.
Then, over the next four seconds or so, as her bum began to
tingle and ring like a bell, she got even more infuriated.
"Oh! Oh!" she muttered angrily, "That stings, that really,
really stings. Oh, you bitch! You bastard! You absolute cow!
How dare you do that to me! Who the hell do you think…?"
Crack!
While Joan was venting her spleen against me, I slowly and
deliberately pulled back my arm again and took careful aim.
Then, just as she was in the middle of her rantings, and just
when the tingling from spank number 1 reached its crescendo, I
brusquely and peremptorily cut across her comments. However, I
said nothing. Instead, I let my slipper do the talking. Just
at the very moment when her bum had fully felt slap number
one, and she was at the height of her vexation and fury, I
gave her another one! Having scored my first bull's eye, I
found that I was able to hit home with the same accuracy a
second time. The pump whistled through the air, and hit its
target with a crack so sharp and high pitched that it sent a
frisson down my spine. Again, the pussy hairs were scattered,
the nubile meat of the bottom shuddered and quivered
deliciously, and I was gratified to see that the second red
mark overlapped more or less exactly with the first one. The
force of this second blow temporarily nonplussed Joan. She
abruptly ceased her diatribe against me in mid-sentence.
Instead she grunted involuntarily and breathed in sharply.
"Wow, lady," I thought, my mind careering off again into
erotic thoughts, "This is just the beginning. Am I going to
rattle your big meaty arse for you!"
As the tingle from this second spank was incrementally added
to that from the first, Joan took up again her sexy and
rebellious verbals. "Oh, you cow, you complete cow! You
absolute 24-carat bitch! Aw! Aw!! Aw!!! Oh, my God, that
stings! That really, really stings! I'll get you for this, you
bastard! I'll have you sacked for it! Wait till I tell daddy!
I'll have you on the next plane back to London before your
feet can touch the ground. I'll sort you, you bitch, just you
see if I don't! ... (Etc.)...." Now, with this line of attack,
dear reader, Joan hit me right on the raw. Despite my seeming
self-confidence I was by no means sure that I was not
overstepping the mark with my saucy disciplinary exploits. It
seemed to me in the heat of the moment (and indeed for long
afterwards) a distinct probability that Joan's father would be
outraged if and when he heard the salacious details of her
punishment. Despite the permission that he had given me to
spank his daughter, surely he would consider this comeuppance
of hers to be well over the top? I was beginning to enjoy my
job in the West Indies, and I did not want to go home just
yet. Yet if Joan complained loud enough to her dad that was
exactly what I could see myself being forced to do. The
thought miffed me, and made me even angrier with Joan than I
had been before. "So you would tell tales on me, would you,
madam?" I thought to myself. "You would get me sacked would
you? How dare you threaten me! How dare you even suggest such
a thing! I may never catch you bending again, but while my
luck holds and I have your bare buttocks at my mercy I will
take my chance to enforce a sharp and sexy revenge." Then, as
my anger and frustration welled up to its peak, I again cut
across Joan's diatribe against me in the sexiest and most
effective fashion that I could think of. With more than a hint
of malice and venom in my riposte, I hit her with a third hard
spank. Crack!!
"Ouch! Oh! You bitch! You cunning, vindictive vixen! Aw! Aw!!
Aw!!! You may hold the whip hand now, you cow, but just you
wait! Just you fucking well..." _Whack_!!! Again, it may have
been rather rude and ill mannered of me, dear readers, but, at
the height of Joan's ravings, I gave her another one. As I
explain below, this fourth slap I aimed higher up Joan's
bottom, onto white meat that had as yet remained unchastised.
But, my goodness, I made her pay a sharp and sexy penalty for
threatening me with the sack again, and also for that
"fucking" of hers! Yes, I made her rue her indelicate and
unladylike use of a 4-letter word! Wow! Did I give her
something to rattle her arse and make her feel sorry for
herself! That fourth spank was a beauty, and it left Joan in
absolutely no doubt that, while I may have been initially
amused by her insolence, her threats and her bad language were
now beginning to annoy me, and I would tolerate them no
longer. In short, it was time for the victim to shut up, or
else! "Aaagh!" she cried. But then, at long last, she realised
that, at least for the time being, I had her fast by the hairs
of her well-developed and hirsute pussy, and that there was
nothing that she could do about it. She therefore sensibly
decided to sweat her temper, to stop threatening and swearing
at me, and to suffer the rest of her stinging, undignified and
humiliating comeuppance in angry but compliant submission.
Now let me narrate a few more details of what was happening
at Joan's rear end. The third slap I delivered to the same
part of Joan's rump, onto its sexy undercarriage. But then, to
give her some relief from that merciless trip hammering, I
applied the next six slaps higher up, to those parts of the
butt that until then had remained unchastised. I aimed ad lib
at the plumpest and whitest bits, trying my best to spread the
smacks as evenly as I could over the whole bottom, and to turn
it a nice even shade of red. The problem was that Joan had a
big bottom, and I only had 12 spanks to play with. But my
trusty slipper, with its big, flat sole, was more than equal
to the task. Swish, crack, sting, pause, tingle; swish, crack,
sting, pause, tingle was the remorseless sequence as I
continued to allow plenty of time for the bare bum to tingle
between each slap. The fourth whack, the particularly sharp
one, landed right across the middle of the rump, the meat of
the seat, as you might say. Then I aimed above and below this
central benchmark until the whole bottom was an even shade of
red except for the nubile pussy meat on Joan's undercarriage,
which was a deeper hue. I must say that it was a great help to
me that the bottom was bare, since I could see exactly where
to aim. Every time I struck the target, the crack of plimsoll
against bare meat rang out sharply and sexily, and Joan gave
little gasps and cries at the force of the blows.
For the last three strokes, I returned again to the plump
pussy meat, the epicentre of my assault. I was still
determined that, by the time I was done, it would have taken
in all a full six of the best. I also made sure that the
punishment built up to a shattering and orgasmic climax.
Swish, crack went the tenth slap, just a little bit harder
than all of the previous nine except for number 4, and onto
meat that by now, even after its short respite, must have been
ringing like a bell, and really raw, sore and tender.
Meanwhile Joan continued to let out sharp grunts and cries at
every slap as her reddened bottom quivered and danced. Again I
waited for Joan to feel the full sting of slap number ten.
Then, even harder, I gave her slap eleven. "Oh!" she cried
involuntarily. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" I looked down, and saw that she
was wincing. "At last, madam," I thought, "I think I am
beginning to get through to you." Then I girded up my loins
for the final spank. Into slap number 12 I put just a little
bit of extra spite, malice and venom, giving it almost all
that I had, and completing a blistering finale to my act. The
slipper whistled home for the last time (for the moment) and
cracked sharply against the tender, reddened pussy meat. Joan
gasped audibly and her bottom shuddered again. "Woooh, woooh,
aaagh!" she murmured gently as her bum smarted at the full
accumulated tingling and stinging of my 12 of the best.
Part 3: Aftermath
Next I rapped out an order. "Stay where you are, young lady,
and keep your fingers on your toes. If you move from position
before I say so, you will regret it." I then returned to my
seat behind the desk to view my triumph. Joan's big bare
bottom was covered with the red weals from my slipper. Over
most of the bum these had merged into each other to form a
large, deep, even, red patch. The pussy meat, of which I had a
perfect view as Joan bent over, as I had intended, was even
redder than the rest of the target area. Then, below the
bottom, the two broad, plump backs of the upper thighs gently
bulged out in brown, sun-tanned contrast to the red meat and
the black clump of pussy hair above them. "Wow," I thought. "I
bet that stings."
I was now sitting down directly opposite Joan, as she was
facing and bending away from me. My eyes were at about the
same level as her cunt meat. From this angle I noticed again
something that made me breathe in sharply. Past and beyond her
pubic ringlets Joan's two plump labial lips and her cunt slot
between them were on full and prominent display as they hung
invitingly and alluringly below and behind her crotch. It was
exactly as if Joan were presenting her rump to a mate,
inviting him to insert his stiffened cock beneath and between
her hot, reddened buttocks and into her receptive pussy.
"Wow!" I mused. "What a sharp and explosive shag that would
be! Oh God! You are bending over there just asking for it, my
girl! If I were a red bloodied male I would be very hard
pressed to avoid taking and violating you right now. In the
passionate heat of this moment it would be more than worth a
long prison sentence for the rape and pillage of your
virginity.
I continued along this saucy, naughty line of speculation
for quite a while, and began to put it into the context of the
men in my own life. So far there have been three of these, my
father, my little brother John, and my husband Dave (whom at
this stage, I had not met). They are three very different
characters, but, in the willie department, they have one thing
in common. They have all been circumcised.
When I was a girl I remember vividly that my dad used to
complain ruefully about his little operation. Then, when John
was old enough to understand what being circumcised meant, he
started to join in with the whingeing, and they would really
wind each other up about it.
As a family we were always very open about sex, especially
by the standards of the 1950s and early 60s. My father made
no attempt to hide his cock from my gaze. When it was on
display, therefore, I would, from an early age, stare at it
and wonder what "being circumcised" actually meant. As for
John, he is two years younger than me, so I had constant
viewings of his penis right from the word go. In his case too
I would wonder what his tool would look like if it had not
taken the chop.
I did not fully realise the awful truth until I was at
college. At the time it was the early 60s, and sexual
morality were becoming less restrictive. I succumbed to the
greater climate of freedom, and at the age of 19 I lost my
virginity to my then boyfriend. My lover had not been
circumcised and I was stunned by my first view of his flaccid
cock. The prick tip was, I noticed, entirely covered by a
thick double fold of skin, which, he told me, was called the
"foreskin." The cock as a whole had a dramatically different
appearance from my dad's. I found this a subject of great
interest, and throughout my relationship with my lover I
handled and inspected his cock on every possible occasion -
which was quite a few! He told me that "circumcision" meant
"the cutting off of the foreskin"! And he showed me where the
cut took place, and which skin was removed. Wow, I thought.
Then dad and John must have had the equivalent of about 15
square inches of adult prepuce snipped off the end of their
willies, or about as much skin as there is on the palm of a
man's hand! No wonder they are feeling cut up and sore about
it!
In contrast, my next boyfriend, like dad and John, had been
circumcised. This gave me the chance, for the first time in
my life, to handle an adult circumcised cock and to inspect it
carefully. Again, I was stunned by the experience. All
around my friend's penis shaft was a circumcision scar. With
his permission, I measured this, and found that it was about 5
inches long, even when his cock was flaccid. As with all the
other circumcisions I have seen, the operation had evidently
been a messy job. In one place there was a stitch-tunnel that
had filled up with puss, and in another a disfiguring little
skin flap. The scar was ugly, livid, pitted and pockmarked,
and the whole cock looked badly beaten up and battered. My
friend, like every other circumcised man I have known, was
obsessed and infuriated by what he called the "assault and
battery" inflicted on his cock. He would complain loud and
long to me about it, especially if I egged him on, and asked
questions.
From that point of time I decided that I liked the idea of
men being circumcised. I know that, like my love of smacking
ladies' bottoms, this is kinky and perverted. But I cannot
help it. It is just the way that I am. Anyway, from then on,
dad, John, and later Dave, have had to take a fair amount of
flack, ribbing and stick from me on the question. It is
brilliant, really. I love a wind up, and to wind them up
really tight about having had their cocks chopped is as easy
as falling off a log.
Anyway, back to Joan. As I sat there eyeing up her pussy
and cunt slit, I began to think how much dad and John would
enjoy the sight before my eyes. In 1966 my dad was 57 years
of age, and a very dirty old man. He loved to eye up bikini-
clad ladies on summer beaches. He would often make saucy and
suggestive comments about young ladies of his acquaintance.
Indeed, he would tell my mother confidentially and in private
that, if he was not a married man, he would just love to slam
dunk his cock into some of my girl friends. Mum did not mind
this too much. His fantasies helped to keep him sexually
active, and she herself then reaped the rewards in bed. But
she would sometimes attempt to shame him by telling me what he
had said. Anyway, I knew exactly what dad would be thinking
if he were in my place at that moment. I imagined him naked,
with his great, stiff circumcised mutton dagger raised before
him. Wallop! Joan, poor innocent virgin, would not know what
had hit her, and very quickly her hymen would follow his
foreskin into history!
Then I thought of my little brother, John. He was shy with
ladies, but, like my dad, he was very interested in them.
What, I wondered to myself, would he not give for a ten minute
assault on Joan's vulnerable and unprotected pussy. Wouldn't
he just love to rub his circumcision scar up and down her
pussy! Whack! Poke, rub, grunt, poke, rub, grunt, etc. Joan
would have been caught at a hopeless disadvantage, and within
seconds her chastity would have been dead meat! I suppose
what helped to stimulate these saucy thoughts was that I was
not getting it myself at that time. I was sharply frustrated
and my mind conjured up some very graphic fantasies! Thus,
for between five and ten minutes, I continued to stare
entranced at Joan's bare, bending rump and hairy pussy while I
gave my imagination full reign and felt my clitoris grow rock
hard in my knickers.
At last, however, I snapped out of my trance and gave
another order. "Right, now listen carefully. I want you to
move you fingers from your toes and put your hands on top of
your head, rising to stand upright as you do so. You will then
stand still and await further instructions" Her spirit now
tamed, at least temporarily, Joan silently and obediently
complied. Now that she was standing up, I had an even better
view of her gorgeous body: the long, straight black hair
cascading down over her shoulder blades; the graceful inward
curvature of her broad waist; the wide, outwardly sloping
hips; the big, sexy red bottom with thick black pussy hair
sprouting from underneath it; the broad meaty sun-tanned
thighs; and the beautiful shapely brown calves. Whew! Again I
stared enchanted, and again I know not for how long.
Finally, I asked Joan to turn round and face me. As she did
so, I noticed with satisfaction that, in her humiliation and
embarrassment, Joan was blushing profusely so that the cheeks
of her face were almost as red as the cheeks of her bottom. I
then took my chance to get a last, lingering stare at Joan's
ravishing front view. I remembered what my little brother,
John, used to say about ladies, and about what turned him on.
"Bums and tits," he would say. "Bums and tits, and eyes and
thighs." So now I stared into Joan's translucent, bright blue
eyes and then gazed down at her plump, pneumatic boobs. These
were milky white apart from the two delicious red nipples in
the middle of each breast, because, as I have said, they had
been protected from the sun by Joan's bikini top. They stood
out in contrast to the surrounding tanned meat on the upper
bosom, arms and tummy. Then my eyes roved further down Joan's
figure again, to admire the white triangle of flesh and the
hairs around her pussy, and, below these, her plump, meaty
upper thighs, which had been bronzed a beautiful shade of
brown by the sun. "God!" I thought. "You're beautiful. The
lucky devil who marries you will get infinitely more pleasure
than any son of Adam deserves, or has any right to, in this
imperfect and sinful world."
Then I had another saucy thought. God, I mused, I hope that
your husband is circumcised. No man in this world is worthy
to enjoy beauty as stunning as yours perfectly, as nature
intended and with his foreskin on. His cock should have had
fifteen square inches of nerves and sensitive tissue chopped
off it. It should have an ugly five-inch circumcision scar
around its shaft. And its prick tip should be exposed,
calloused over and desensitised. And even then the pleasure
of that cock will be far too sharp, and far too exquisite."
Thus I continued for a further few minutes with these and
similar kinky and saucy fantasies.
By now my anger had been successfully vented, and I began to
think that I had perhaps used the slipper a little too freely
on Joan. I think that if she had broken down and wept I would
have been devastated with remorse. The spanking had jolted me
into ecstasies of sexual pleasure, and the effect was like a
drug. I was hooked, and I knew that I must have more fixes. I
was certain that I would try to engineer more chances to smack
Joan's bare bottom, and I felt guilty about it. What was so
kinky and exciting was that I was being such a spiteful and
vindictive bitch. I had vented my spleen on my victim out of
pique, and not as a responsible teacher administering due and
appropriate chastisement. Joan had riled me, and I had exacted
my revenge with haughty malice. The appalling thing was that I
was really proud and pleased with the way I had slapped her
down. It had sexually excited me more fiercely than anything
else I could remember, and I was shocked and puzzled at the
sharpness of my pleasure. If, or, as I hoped, when, I smacked
Joan's bare bottom again I vowed to try not to do it purely
for my own perverted joy in mastering and dominating her. But
I was only a petite little madam, and I had got a real kick
out of bending this big strapping filly to my will. I had
brought her so sharply and so pleasurably to heel that I
decided to make myself no promises.
Anyway, for the moment, I thought that the time had come to
be more sympathetic to my charge. I smiled pleasantly. "OK," I
said, in as cheerful and kindly a voice as I could muster. "We
will talk about where we go from here at 11 o'clock. Put your
bathrobe on, go back to your room and compose yourself." Joan
turned away from me to pick up her bathrobe, presenting me
with another view of her big red bottom. And then she did
something that I found very sexy. It was now at least ten
minutes since the last slap had landed on her bum, and Joan
was no longer smarting and tingling from her punishment to any
great extent. This, indeed, as I have noted elsewhere, is one
of the great advantages of slipperings. They sting like hell
at the time, in the most vexing and infuriating way. But, on
the other hand, they do no lasting damage and the victim soon
regains her composure. Joan had by now clearly done this.
However, she still brought both hands off the top of her head
and, very ruefully and lovingly, almost wistfully, she rubbed
and massaged the pussy meat of both buttocks with her fingers.
While she did this she took no thought of covering her
nakedness. She continued slowly and in an exaggeratedly
gingerly fashion for about twenty to twenty-five seconds,
taking care that her bum was pointed towards me so that I got
an excellent view. Indeed, Joan was clearly hamming it up. She
was so provocative, almost raunchy, in her actions that I
could only conclude that she was deliberately trying to turn
me on - very successfully, I might add! Joan was clearly
embarrassed, vexed and hopping mad at her sharp, saucy and
humiliating chastisement. But, like me, she too seemed to find
it sexy, salacious and amusing, even though the joke was on
her.
I noted with satisfaction that Joan came down five minutes
early for our 11 o'clock tryst. She had changed into a pretty,
flowery and very feminine summer frock. It was thin, low cut
and close fitting around her waist so that it showed off the
tops of her boobs, her cleavage and her curvy waistline very
well. But then it emphasised her broad bottom and hips by
flaring out beautifully over her thighs. It ended, cut off,
just above the knees of her bare legs. I paid particular
attention to Joan's mood, however, and was surprised to see
that she seemed somewhat chirpy. For all her faults, I knew
that this was an open and generous girl who would not hold
grudges.
"Ah, Joan," I said good-naturedly. "Hello again. Won't you
take a seat?" "If it is all the same to you," she replied, not
without a slight twinkle in her eye, "I think I would rather
lean." And she stretched herself out, in an alluring pose,
against the wall, taking a somewhat theatrical and exaggerated
care that her bottom did not come into contact with it.
"Well," I asked, looking squarely into her translucent, bright
blue eyes. "What have you got to say for yourself, then?" She
gazed back at me, without resentment or dislike. "Well," she
said. Then she paused. "If our roles were reversed, I don't
expect you would have much to say would you?" I smiled good-
naturedly. "In your dreams, lady," I thought to myself.
"O.K.," she went on, in a tone that suggested that for her the
incident was over, "I admit it. I damn well deserved it,
didn't I?" Then she smiled and ruefully rubbed her bottom
again through her thin dress and knickers, not in pain but for
the undignified and comical effect, as if acknowledging, for
the second time, that the joke was on her.
I had thought out my next speech in advance, and I now
proceeded to deliver it. I intended to continue with a
programme of corporal punishment, I told her, but it was for
her own good, and it would mainly be used as a threat, to
encourage her to work. There would be a system of merit and
demerit marks, and she would only get the slipper when she had
amassed 12 demerits. At any time she could bring down her
tally of demerits by undertaking extra studies, and each hour
of overtime would earn her one merit mark (the equivalent,
although I did not say it, of avoiding one spank.) Even when
she reached 12 demerits, she would not be punished
immediately, but I would negotiate with her a grace period
during which, if she worked hard, she might hope to escape the
rap. If, after this time, however, she ended up with more than
twelve demerits, she would be disciplined, and the surplus
demerits above 12 would be carried forward. Three times a
year, before the Christmas, Easter and summer breaks, all
demerits would be cancelled, although any merits would be
carried forward. Merits would be awarded for good and
conscientious work, and demerits for laziness, unpunctuality,
etc. She would never get a demerit for trying her best, I
assured her, for example in her weak subject, History, even if
her performance was disappointing. Over and above this system
of merits and demerits, however, there would be a short list
of offences that carried an immediate retribution. These
included deliberate and perverse disobedience and wilful lack
of respect. I did not realise it at the time, but this was
quite a significant speech I was making. I have from time to
time used a similar system of discipline throughout my
teaching career.
"Well," I concluded, "Any questions?" Since her spanking Joan
seemed to be in some awe of me and to accept my authority over
her, at least in principle. I was surprised to see that she
appeared to have no real quarrel with the gist of what I had
said. But, naturally enough, one or two things concerned her.
"O.K.," she said grudgingly, "I suppose I could do with
something to keep me on my toes. But what punishment do I get
if I don't come up to scratch." "One slap from the slipper for
each of your 12 demerit marks." "And what will I be wearing at
the time?" As she asked this, she gave a saucy little simper
in anticipation of my answer. "Absolutely nothing. Your
instructions are to report dressed only in your bathrobe,
which you will be asked to remove before being chastised."
When she heard this reply, Joan let out a sexy little giggle.
But then she sobered up. She thought long and hard, during
which time I gazed steadily into her stunning blue eyes.
"Wow," she gasped. Then, "Hey! That's not fair! That would
really tingle!" She tried to sound indignant. But I detected
in her voice a tone of exaggerated outrage and amused mock
horror, as if she found the idea comical and risqué. Then she
paused. "Ouch!" she cried out gently. And she rubbed her
bottom ruefully again with both hands through her clothing in
remembrance and realisation of exactly what my words meant.
"Phwoah! 12 of the best! With that enormous slipper! Across
the bare bum! I'm too old for that! I'm far too big to be
spanked! Oh, the humiliation! I would feel a complete fool!
And I bet it wouldn't half sting! Oh, wow, wow, wow!" Again
she sounded incensed and affronted, but at the same time
fascinated, amused and sexually turned on. At any event, she
did not seriously argue with me. She realised, I think, that I
had the whip (or rather the plimsoll!) hand. She knew that I
could call on the servants for support to enforce my regime
physically if I had to. She thus resigned herself to the
inevitable in a spirit of cheerfulness and acceptance. In my
view, to strip and smack a big sexy 17-year-old lady was over-
stimulating to the brink of orgasm, and the very stuff of
farce. What a hilarious and ridiculous plight for the victim!
It was very saucy, very funny and a real turn on. I was
stunned, however, as I had been earlier, that Joan seemed to
agree with me, even though it was her who was being made to
"bare and bend." The sexy joke was on her, but she did not
seem to mind. Indeed, she seemed stimulated by the situation.
Thus, far more easily than I had thought possible, the matter
was settled, and we got on with our lessons.
I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of my year in the West Indies.
My incentive scheme worked well, and really kept Joan on her
toes. I did not spank her all that often, but I still got a
big kick out of saying "three demerits, my girl" or "lady, six
demerits" since I knew that what I was really saying was
"madam, take three/six slaps from the plimsoll across your
bare bottom." I could, of course, have dished out penalty
points like confetti and had myself a ball, if I had wanted
to. Certainly, I tried to keep up the pressure on Joan by
constantly pushing her to the 12 points threshold, and
sometimes I did spank her, to remind her what it felt like and
to keep her on her toes. But, on the other hand, I had grown
fond of my charge. I often gave her a chance to redeem
demerits by doing extra work, and I never again spanked her in
vindictiveness or anger. Thus, sadly, with Joan (unlike with
some of my other victims!) I never recaptured that fierce
sexual ecstasy that I had felt the first time I chastised her.
Even so, Joan took the rap a fair number of times, and on
each occasion it gave me great pleasure. I maintained exactly
the same successful format as employed in our first punishment
session. First I warmed Joan's pussy meat with a few
preparatory tail flicks. Then, during the spanking proper, the
first and last three slaps were always applied, with great
accuracy if I say so myself, to the sexy, intimate
undercarriage of pussy meat adjacent to the pubes. And the
middle six spanks were aimed ad lib over the rest of the bare
bum, very briskly and sharply.
The sessions were more relaxed now, since I knew that I was
mistress of the situation, and of Joan, and that she would
obediently comply with my orders. Thus the "kinky spiteful
bitch tames rebellious madam" theme, which had turned me on so
violently the first time I spanked Joan, was never,
unfortunately, to reappear. I still got a big kick out of it
all though, especially from the whackings that I dished out
after Joan turned her eighteenth birthday in the February of
the year after I arrived. Wow, but that was sexy! In the UK
1965-6 was just before the age of majority was lowered to 18
from 21. Today you would not be able to spank a young lady of
18 to 21, unless, perhaps, you had her permission. If you
spanked her against her will, you could easily face a charge
of indecent assault. But 18 to 21 year old ladies (and their
bottoms!) had no such protection in the mid-1960s, even in the
UK, let alone in Barbados! Then they were still defined as
children. Thus, in the case of Joan, I was _in loco parentis_,
and I had full authority from her father to whack her. Unlike
today, she had no right to refuse and no legal redress against
her chastisement. Did I say that Joan was legally defined as a
child? Some child! She was, of course, by the time of her
eighteenth birthday and the slappings that followed it, a
fully-grown lady, biologically mature and beautifully
developed. The legal position that allowed me to slap her bare
bottom as if she was a little girl was as ridiculous as it was
sexy, amusing and kinky. I could not believe my luck.
Alas, with the more recent legislation, I am unlikely to
slap the bare bums of many more 18 to 21 year old girls, at
least in the UK! Those were happy days that will never return
and I often recall how I felt at the time. My main emotion, I
think, was amusement at the ridiculous and hilarious spectacle
of a big, fully-grown lady, a woman of marriageable age,
having to bare her bottom, present it for chastisement, and
get it smacked like a little child. Even funnier, she used to
get it smacked very hard. I never again slapped Joan in anger.
But I still laid on the pump very sharply and smartly. Indeed,
after her eighteenth birthday I took to slapping her bottom
just that little bit harder than before. She complained about
this, and said that she was now too old to be spanked at all.
Instead of her chastisement abating, however, it was being
applied with renewed vigour. Secretly I saw her point. I was
still applying those stinging and infuriating little tail
flicks across the pussy meat before the spanking proper. Then,
when I began to whack Joan in earnest, I was still allowing
just enough time for her bum to tingle after each smack. And
then there were the ten minutes of bending over and standing
up, hands on head, afterwards, during which bum rubbing was
verboten. During that time Joan would be stinging, tingling
and smarting, and her naked body and her bare, well-smacked
bum were exposed, in all their intimate splendour, to my
enraptured gaze. Wow, I really let her have it, and I bet it
didn't half sting! At her age, I could understand why she
thought such treatment was inappropriate.
Another sexy aspect of Joan's spankings was that she used to
protest while I was chastising her, and also before and
afterwards. I enjoyed this and, within reason, was fairly
tolerant of it. We were living in intimate proximity to each
other and it was impossible for me to maintain a disciplinary
aloofness and hauteur. My official stance, however, was that
Joan should take her chastisement in compliant silence, and
that if she did not she was liable to be made to pay for her
indiscretions.
Joan used to get particularly infuriated by my preparatory
tail flicks. For example, I would give her one. Smack! "Go
on!" I would tell her. "Stretch and bend!" "Ouch!" Joan would
yell indignantly. "That hurt! And I am stretching, you cow!"
Next I would wait about four seconds, for Joan to fully feel
the effects of my first flick. Then I would give her another
one. Smack!! "That one was for insolence, young lady!" This
would normally enforce a temporary period of silence. Then I
would wait another four seconds before... Smack!!! "And that's
for still not stretching! Go on! Down! You are beginning to
annoy me!" "Aw! Aw! Aw! Oh, you bastard! You absolute 24-carat
bitch!" Four-second wait, then the victim would catch it
again, and harder: SMACK! This time I would not comment on my
flick, since the reason for inflicting it was obvious.
Next Joan would continue with her verbals into the spanking
proper. For example, "Ouch! Too hard!" she would shout, and
every time she did this I always made the next slap slightly
harder still. A lot of her interjections, however, escaped
without punishment as long as they seemed to me to be
reasonable. "Aw! That tingles!" she would yell, and I was
forced to concur that this was a fair comment! Sometimes Joan
seemed to grudgingly admire my handiwork. "Aaagh! Oh, my God!
That was a beauty!" she would cry, "Ouch! That really, really
stings!" And, flattered, I would exact no extra retribution.
Other stock condoned comments were as follows. "Wow! I'm too
big for this!" "I'm 18, for God's sake! I'm too old!" "Oh,
hell! I feel a complete fool!" "Ouch! Across the bare bum
again! That's indecent that is!" "(Whack!) Ngh! This is
hurting my dignity! (Pause. Whack!) Ngh! And other places!"
Meanwhile I would sometimes add to my enjoyment by reciting
little pre-composed doggerel verses to myself. Here are some
examples. As you can see they are all pretty awful. "Pussy
hairs all in a clump, take the pump across your rump, chump!"
"Bum all bare, bending there, furry clump of pussy hair,
slipper whistles through the air. Crack!" "Crack, crack, crack
the slaps all go, wince and grunt it stings you so, where
you'd never show your beau."
Joan always made a parting shot after spank number 12, when
she knew I could not immediately get her back. I usually
accepted this with good grace, except that if she was too
cheeky I might threaten her with three demerits unless she
apologised. This usually pulled her back into line. Then, in
the ten minutes of hands on head, her comments and complaints
would continue. Again, unless she was especially cheeky, I
would let her get on with it, listening to her backchat with
interest. I always knew that, if she went too far, the threat
to inflict three demerits would soon tame her. I think, on the
whole, that it was probably these verbals that made me enjoy
my chastisement of Joan more than most of my other
disciplinary exploits. In those later years when I was a
schoolteacher the girls always took their correction in
silence, or else restricted their utterances to "Aws," "Ohs,"
"Ouches" and other involuntary expletives. Of course, I could
have made Joan stop if I had wanted too. And she could have
stopped herself at any time. But, despite the extra
chastisement that her comments sometimes brought to her, she
seemed to like to have her say. I think that, as for me, her
salacious verbals gave her a sexy thrill.
Naturally enough in the circumstances, Joan would continue
to complain about my disciplinary code before her punishment
commenced, and again when it was over. However, I pooh-poohed
her objections, which she used to make most vociferously
before she was due to take the rap. I always spanked her after
her shower in the morning, and during breakfast she would
complain bitterly about what was about to hit her. But I
always answered her firmly, politely, and with a twinkle in my
eye. She still had three years to go before she was an adult,
I said, and that meant three more years of whackings. If I was
still her tutor, and if she deserved it, I would not hesitate
to chastise her, even on the eve of her 21st birthday. In any
case, so what? It was no big deal. It was true that I was a
bit brisk and free with the pump, but then, if the punishment
was to be effective, I had to be. And, in any case, it was
only a mild slippering, not a serious beating with a cane. I
supposed it stung a bit, but then it was supposed to. It did
not, I should imagine, tingle for long, and it did her no
lasting injury or harm. It was true that I was laying it on a
bit harder. But she was bigger now, and her bum could take it.
Besides, her exams were closer, so there was even more need to
keep her on her toes. The discipline was firm and strict, but
it needed to be if it was to do her any good. She might not
realise it now, but there would come a time, after she had
passed her exams, when she would heartily thank me for
smacking her bare bottom for her. Yes, when she was older, we
would both joke and laugh at how stroppy and insolent she had
been, and at how she had been so effectively and amusingly
slapped into line.
During these lively and interesting breakfast-time debates
on the appropriateness of my disciplinary methods, Joan often
tried another tack that I found very sexy. Even if you
accepted, she would say, that her spankings were justified,
that was still no excuse for whacking her on the bare, so
hard, and so many times. At her age it was undignified to have
to strip off. She should have the right to take it while
wearing knickers and jeans. Even then, the slaps would really
sting. They should therefore be applied less vigorously. And
just one slap, in her view, would constitute an adequate
punishment, or perhaps two or three if she had been very
naughty. But twelve really hard ones across the bare bum was
too much, and very demeaning.
My answer to these arguments you can probably work out for
yourselves. To be effective, I would say, the punishment had
to sting and humiliate. It was like with speeding and parking
tickets. Motoring fines had to be punitive and prohibitive if
they were to slap the culprits into line. If they were set at
levels that offenders thought were reasonable they would have
little deterrent value. I was the appropriate person to
determine her punishment, and I had a duty to make it sharper
and more humiliating than she thought it ought to be. Then I
would send Joan off to her shower, telling her to report to
the study in her bathrobe by 9 a.m. sharp. I would then remind
her, as she flounced off indignant and fuming, that she was
going to get 12 of the best from the slipper across her bare
bum. You can bet that I didn't half tease my victim, and that
I never let her off the hook. And my comments had exactly the
effect that I wanted them to have. They really wound Joan up
and, to my great amusement, made her hopping mad.