{ASSTR 02} Caribbean Capers {Big Billie} (F/f spank nc, circ)

Caribbean Capers 

A Sally Trubshawe Henderson Story in Three Parts

By Big Billie

(c) Big Billie 2002. Not to be distributed or sold for monetary 
gain.

Author's Statement: Big Billie is opposed to spanking except for 
consenting adults. However, spanking sexually excites him, so he 
writes about it.



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 come-uppance 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. Back 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 were 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 come-uppance 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 nonplused 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 absolute cow! Aw! Aw!! Aw!!! Oh, my 
God, that stings! That really, really stings! I'll get you for 
this, you bitch! 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 bastard, 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 come-uppance 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 come-uppance 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 
of pain 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 suddenly noticed 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 thought of my little brother, John. He was shy with ladies, but 
he was very interested in them. What, I wondered to myself, would 
he not have given, at that moment, for a ten-minute assault on 
Joan's vulnerable and unprotected pussy. Wouldn't he just love to 
rub his bare cock 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 crotch grow even 
wetter, and my clitoris become even harder 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 
embarrassments, 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."

  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 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! Nineteen sixty-five to six 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! 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! 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.