Train to St Petersburg.. Thorn

Train to St Petersburg

Imagine a train crossing a snowy Russian landscape. Imagine a man on that train; a middle-aged man, with hair starting to turn grey at the temples, an intelligent looking man with shrewd blue eyes. Now imagine a girl; a Russian girl with raven-black hair, eighteen years old, a beautiful girl sharing a compartment with that man. Not an everyday occurrence maybe but not too an usual a thing.
But there is something strange about the scene for the two of them are not sitting talking, neither are they ignoring eachother, each lost in their own private thoughts. No, the girl is face down over the lap of the man, her skirt is bunched up around her waist, her knickers down around her knees. In her small, soft hand she holds a pocket watch and as the hand second hand ticks round to mark off another minute she murmurs some words in Russian. As soon as he hears the words the man brings his open palm down hard on the girl’s bare bottom, reddening the area he spanks, an area that is already red. Six times the man’s hand comes down and the girl moans softly and writhes across his lap. ________
Lara knew there was a mistake the moment she boarded the train in Moscow. It was a journey she had made many times before, the overnight sleeper to St. Petersburg. She had flown into Moscow three days before to spend some time with her brother before making the train journey north to her mother’s house in St. Petersburg. She always liked to travel on the famous Red Arrow train, the Krasnaya Strela. It was her brother who had booked the ticket for the train and therefore he who had made the mistake. Lara always travelled first class in the Spalny Vagon and invariably when the ticket was purchased it was for both berths in the compartment giving her the luxury, and security of travelling alone. This time, that had not happened and Lara, checking her ticket found that only one berth had been reserved. Her brother had compounded the error by booking the ticket in his own name, which was why it was that when Lara entered the compartment she found that, not only did she not have it to herself, but also that she would be sharing with a man. Of course, she could have made a fuss, but she was experienced enough to know that complaining would have got her nowhere, indeed it might end up making things worse and she would have to endure the journey in the crowded, communal atmosphere of ‘Platskartny’, third class. So she said nothing, merely smiled a brief greeting to the businessman who was sitting on the edge of his bunk reading a newspaper. He acknowledged her greeting with a nod of his head.
Lara stowed her things in the under-bunk locker already having made her mind up that she would stay fully dressed and sleep on top of the bunk; she had no intention of getting changed for bed in front of this stranger. So she kicked off her shoes, lay on the bed and got out the book she had brought for the journey; it was a Thomas Hardy novel that she had first read at school. She lay back to read as the train pulled out of the station and began its journey through the night.
For the first hour there was silence between them. Lara read her book, occasionally glancing up to sneak a sly look at the man who still seemed absorbed in his newspaper. Eventually, it was he who spoke first, breaking the tension and when he spoke he did so not in Russian but English.
“Are you English?” he asked.
Lara shook her head and replied in Russian “No I’m Russian.”
‘That’s a difficult book for a Russian girl,’ he commented.
Lara smiled “I’ve spent the last seven years in England, at boarding school there. My English is as good as my Russian.”
“An English boarding school? An interesting choice for a Russian girl. I take it that our own schools aren’t good enough for you?” Lara flushed slightly, sensing the hostility in the question. “No, it’s not like that. I didn’t have any choice in the matter. My father died when I was very young. He left a lot of money in trust for my education and stipulated that he wanted me to go to school in England. I come back every holiday but now school has finished and I’m back home for good. This is home, Russia is my motherland.”
“What is your name?” the man asked, regarding her with his cold blue eyes. “Larissa Talenski,” Lara replied. “But everybody calls me Lara.”
“So Lara Talenski… did you enjoy your English education?”
“Yes,” Lara replied, with a smile, hoping that he might smile too. “I made a lot of good friends and learned a lot too.”
The man maintained his emotionless expression. “It is good to learn,” he commented, “Good to learn those things that make for character and self-discipline. Did you learn those things Lara Talenski?”
Lara was starting to feel very self-conscious under the intensity of his questions. “I guess so…” she replied, feeling herself blush a little under his unremitting gaze.
“They treated you strictly?” the man asked, “Do they still use the cane in English schools?”
Lara felt herself blush even more. “It was strict, yes. But corporal punishment was abolished years ago. And I’m very glad about that!” she tried to lighten the tone but he was having none of it. “A pity. Girls like you need strong discipline.”
Lara felt a flash of anger run through her. “What do you mean? Girls like me? You don’t know me. You have no idea who I am or what I am like.”
The man smiled for the first time, but the smile held no warmth. “That is where you are wrong Lara Talenski. I know you very well. You are rich and spoiled and arrogant. As was your father before you.”
“My father?” Lara gasped “But…” “Vladamir Talenski. I knew him well. Rich, spoiled, arrogant. He deserved to die young.”
The anger that had flashed up inside Lara now burned fierce and clear. How dare he insult the memory of her father… her ‘Daddy’… the man she had never known but had idolized all her life. Before she knew what she was doing she was on her feet. She drew her hand back and slapped the man full across his face, catching him again with the back of her hand as she brought it back for a second blow. She never got to slap him a third time for his reactions were lightning fast and suddenly he had her wrists in his hands, his grip like steel.
“That was a very foolish thing to do Lara Talenski,” he said softly “Very foolish indeed.”
Lara tried to pull her wrists away but he was far stronger than she.
“You have no idea who I am, who you have just assaulted do you?”
Lara felt the hot anger drain away to be replaced by a cold fear. She shook her head.
“Does the name Mikael Dmitriov mean anything to you?” he asked. Lara’s soft gasp told him that she recognized the name only too well. This man was the businessman her mother worked for. The man on whom her mother depended for her livelihood. It was a good job, a highly paid job and it was a job that her mother needed.
“Please, I’m sorry… I just lost my temper…. please… for my Mother’s sake,” Lara begged.
“Your mother is a good woman. And it would be wrong for her to suffer on behalf of her daughter. It is not her fault that an expensive English education has failed to teach you self-restraint and self-discipline. It is you, not her, who must be disciplined.” Dmitriov released Lara’s wrists. “Stay there and don’t try to run away.” He ordered. He got up from his bunk and opened the door of the compartment. He was gone only a matter of moments, gone to have a quiet word with the carriage attendant, the provodnitsa.
He closed the door as he re-entered the compartment. “Now we won’t be disturbed,” he said.
Lara, stood there, shocked, frightened, feeling incredibly vulnerable. “What are you going to do?” she asked him in a trembling voice.
“I am going to treat you as your Father should have done.” He sat on the edge of the bunk, his feet on the floor. “Come here Lara… over my lap.”
Lara looked at him incredulously. Surely not….? Surely he wasn’t suggesting….? But she was eighteen… not a child. “I… I don’t understand,” she stammered. “I am going to spank you Lara. Spank you like a little girl.”
“No please…” Lara begged, horrified at the thought. “Please… I’m sorry… you don’t have to punish me.”
“Oh but I do Lara. And I think you know that I do.”
His voice was soft but there was menace in the tone. Suddenly Lara knew that there was no way out, that she would have to submit, to let him do what he wanted to her. She felt tears come to her eyes, and brushed them away with the back of her hand. She stepped to his side and awkwardly bent forward. He guided her across his lap so that she was lying across him her face in the pillow at the end, her legs up on the bunk. She didn’t resist as she felt his hands go to the hem of her long skirt. He lifted her skirt all the way up, bunching it around her waist. The air was suddenly cool on her bare legs at the tops of her stockings. He let her lie there for a moment, but Lara knew he would not leave her like that. Sure enough she felt his fingers go to the waistband of her knickers. She wanted to scream, but knew it would do her no good. The only person who could help her was the provodnitsa and she had, no doubt, been richly rewarded for turning a deaf ear.
Lara felt her knickers come down. He slid them down to her knees then ran his flat hand over the curves of her bare bottom. Lara recoiled from his touch, but there was nowhere to go.
He began to spank her; quite gently at first. The smacks landing rhythmically, building up a beat. Gradually they got harder, more uncomfortable. And then, all of a sudden, very hard indeed. Stinging slaps that made Lara gasp with pain and writhe her hips. Stinging slaps that warmed her bottom and left it smarting and sore. Ten, twenty, thirty times he brought his hand down hard on Lara’s bottom turning it from white, to pink, to a rosy hue of red.
Then he stopped. And where he had just been hurting her now he rubbed. Lara turned her head to look at him, relieved that it was over. It had been painful and humiliating, but bearable nonetheless. He saw her look and gave her that mirthless smile again.
“Don’t imagine that we have finished Lara, that was merely the appetizer for the main course.”
Lara felt her stomach turn over. She looked on as he reached into his jacket and took out an old-fashioned pocket watch. He passed it to her.
“You are going to keep the time Lara Talenski. Each time a minute is reached you are going to say “Please spank me” and I will then give you six hard smacks.”
“And what if I don’t?” Lara said petulantly.
“I don’t think you really want to be responsible for placing your mother in such jeopardy all for the sake of a little defiance do you?”
Lara quickly shook her head.
“Do as you are told then.”
Lara focussed her eyes on the watch face. She looked as the hand ticked slowly round, marking off the seconds. As it reached the twelve she said the required words.
“Please spank me”
She gasped as his hand came down hard on her bare bottom, igniting the pain again. She counted the smacks in her head…one…two…three…four…five…six! Oh it hurt so much! Then his hand was on her bottom again, caressing and rubbing the area he had just chastised. That was a much more pleasant feeling and Lara moaned a little as the soft stroking started to arouse her.
She remembered to look at the watch just in time to see the minute was up. She drew in her breath. “Please spank me,” she said softly He smacked her again. Six more hard slaps, reddening her pretty white cheeks. And then the stroking and the caressing. Lara felt feelings she had never experienced before. Sore and humiliated and yet strangely safe. Her poor bottom on fire, but a deep-seated pleasure starting to burn inside. The hand ticked round to the twelve again.
“Please…. spank me,” she murmured
The response was another six hard smacks. Lara writhed and kicked up her heels, then subsided as the hand caressed and soothed again. She was so sore and yet now, in a moment of pure self-knowledge Lara recognised that not only did she deserve this punishment, she needed and welcomed it. She knew too what her words must be as the hand marked off another minute.
‘Please…spank me… Daddy,’ she said softly. ___________
Imagine a train crossing a snowy Russian landscape. Imagine a girl, her skirt around her waist, her knickers around her knees. Her bottom, very, very red. And still three hours to St. Petersburg.

The Portrait, Throne

The Portrait

Lucy had decided on having a portrait painted almost from the moment she had come into her inheritance. She was the youngest to inherit the title in over three hundred years, and with the title had come the properties – a townhouse on Montpelier Square just off the Brompton Road and a more substantial house in the Suffolk countryside. There had also been a substantial financial legacy, so at the age of twenty-six Lady Lucinda Westfield was a very rich young woman indeed. As such it seemed fitting that her portrait should grace the great hall at Westfield park alongside those of her ancestors and so she had begun the search for the right artist.
Money was not a problem so Lucy could afford to be choosy; which was fortunate since there was a strong streak of perfectionism within her character. For Lucy only the best would be good enough and it didn’t take her long to discover who the best was. In her humble opinion the only man up to painting Lady Lucinda’s portrait was a young artist by the name of Rob Morton. Morton was an up and coming star in the art world. Not much older than Lucy herself he was already starting to make a name for himself. Lucy had contacted him herself and he had (albeit reluctantly) agreed to come to the house at Montpelier Square to talk about the proposed commission.
Lucy heard a car pull up outside and glanced out of the window. A rather scruffy fair-haired young man was extricating his long body from behind the wheel of a tiny little Fiat. Lucy smiled to herself, he certainly had the look of an artist with his unkempt hair and untidy clothes. She went down to the door to let him in.
He was just about to ring the bell, so was rather taken aback when the door opened suddenly before he had the chance to place his finger on the bell push.
Lucy thrust out her hand ‘How do you do? Lucinda Westfield.’
He recovered his composure quickly. ‘Hi, Rob Morton.’ He shook her hand briefly, as though shaking hands was something he was unaccustomed to doing, then followed her through into the house – his eyes taking in the quiet wealth displayed all around him. Lucy led him through into the drawing-room.
They both sat and there was a moment of awkward silence before Lucy spoke.
‘Well, welcome.’ She said brightly ‘I’m pleased you could come, this really is so important to me.’ Her smile was met by what felt like a rather hostile stare. Lucy pressed on.
‘You see, I’m the youngest Lady Westfield for a very long time, so it seemed rather important to me that I mark that fact by having a portrait done. A rather younger face to hung amongst all the old crusty ones in the great hall at Westfield Park.’
‘Oh, so you have another house do you?’
‘Why yes of course, this is just where I stay when I’m up in town. I assumed it would be more convenient for you if we met here?’
He grunted his agreement.
‘Well Rob, what I had in mind was a classical style of portrait – perhaps something similar to that one of Cherie Blair that was displayed at the Barbican a few weeks ago… perhaps with me…’ she was about to go gushing on when he stopped her with an abrupt question.
‘Go to a private school did you?’
She was a little disconcerted but answered him anyway. ‘Well yes, yes I did, Cheltenham ladies college actually.’
‘Thought as much. And you’ve never been short of anything in your life have you?’
‘I guess I have been very fortunate.’
‘Huhh.’ He sounded almost angry.
‘Is there a problem?’
‘Yeah… I don’t think you’ll be willing to pay my fee.’
Lucy gave a little laugh ‘You needn’t have any worries about that…’
He stopped her short again. ‘I’m not talking about money.’
Lucy felt his eyes on her. My God he wanted to sleep with her! She almost laughed aloud. Well he certainly wasn’t unattractive he might be quite fun!
‘No?’ she said trying to sound innocent ‘What had you in mind?’
He gave her that long appraising look again. Her waited for a moment before speaking. ‘If you really want me to paint your portrait then the price is this. You will agree to be treated and punished like a naughty schoolgirl.’
Lucy felt her heart race… surely he wasn’t suggesting..?!
‘What do you mean exactly? Are you going to set me lines or something…?’ She deliberately tried to keep her tone light.
He gave a low chuckle. ‘Lines of a sort.’ He said ‘Red ones on your bottom after I’ve caned you.’
Her look of horror must have been very clear on her face for he laughed again.
‘Told you you wouldn’t be willing to pay my fee. You little rich girls think money can buy anything – but when something is really going to cost you then you bottle out… just as I thought.’ He looked at her contemptuously. He started to get up.
‘No, no wait.’ Lucy said quickly ‘Just give me a moment to think.’
She could feel her heart beating so quickly such was the shock his words had produced. What he was suggesting was outrageous, no-one had ever laid a finger on her, and the thought of having to bend over to be caned… she gave a little shiver. And yet, and yet her pride wouldn’t let her be defeated so easily. He thought he had called her bluff, thought he had named a price quite beyond her reach. But she was made of sterner stuff.
‘Ok’ she said after a moment ‘What’s your exact fee? What is it that I have to submit to get you to paint my portrait?’
He gave a sly smile. ‘You really want to know?’
She nodded her head.
‘Ok then, my terms are these. There will be three sittings. You will pay for each sitting. The first time you will spend ten minutes over my knee getting a good old-fashioned spanking on your bare bottom. The second time will be a ten minute slippering and the final time will be a spanking followed by twelve strokes of the cane. Oh and to prove that you’re not wasting my time you’ll pay for this afternoon’s consultation with five minutes over my knee.’
Lucy thought for a moment. How much did she really want this portrait done? Was it worth the pain he was suggesting? Even more importantly was it worth the embarrassment? Part of her wanted just to forget the whole idea, abandon having her portrait done, or at least find a different artist. But another, stronger voice urged her not to be such a coward. That she would always regret it if her courage failed her now. And after all generations of schoolboys and girls had gone through exactly the same sort of things as he was suggesting without it killing them. She would have to grin and bear it just as they must have done.
She looked up at him and met his eyes. ‘Very well then I agree.’
‘You’ll pay the fee?’ He looked mildly surprised but pleased as well.
Lucy nodded ‘Yes I’ll pay exactly what you have proposed. But I want to talk about what I want first.’
He smiled for the first time and pulled a notebook from his pocket. ‘Well you’ve got more spirit than I had reckoned with Lady Lucinda…. so you had better tell me what you had in mind.’
For the next twenty minutes they talked, Lucy describing her concept and Rob questioning her and making suggestions of his own. He scribbled a few final notes then closed his book.
‘Anything else you want to add?’
‘No I think that’s about it.’
He put the book back in his pocket. ‘Payment time then.’ he said simply.
Lucy felt herself flush. ‘What do you want me to do?’ anxious all of a sudden.
‘Stand up.’ He said quietly but firmly.
Lucy stood, feeling her legs tremble as she did so.
‘Come here.’
She stepped over and stood at the side of his chair. She balled her hands into fists to try to hide the shaking.
‘Lift the skirt of your dress.’
She hesitated for a moment and then reached back to lift the hem of her skirt, she pulled it up, bunching the material into her hands.
‘Now over my knee.’
Awkwardly she bent forward. He took her arm and guided her across his lap. She reached forward to steady herself with her hands on the floor. It was a very strange position to be in, face down across a man’s lap. She imagined she made a very incongruous site with her skirt up around her waist and her knickers and stockings on full display.
‘Stockings… very nice.’ He remarked.
‘Thank-you sir.’ She said half-mockingly.
‘And “Sir”, I like that too, we’ll stick with that in future. And the stockings too…you’re to wear them every time’
Lucy groaned inwardly.
She felt his fingers go to the waistband of her knickers. She tensed. Slowly he started to ease them down, so slowly in fact it was very teasing. Despite herself Lucy began to feel the beginnings of sexual excitement. ‘Stop it’ she told herself – that was the last thing she wanted to be showing right now. He pulled her knickers all the way down to her knees and now Lucy could feel the air cool on the warm skin of her bottom.
She gave a little shiver as he ran his large hand over the curve of her cheeks. She wriggled a little under his touch. She had always liked having her bottom caressed, had always found it a turn on and so now she desperately tried to think of anything but that sensation. Think of something boring she told herself – football on the television, tax returns, accountants… her mind raced desperately as he continued to stroke her bottom.
Then suddenly all thoughts were driven from her mind as he lifted his hand and brought it smacking down hard. Lucy couldn’t believe how much it stung. She gave a little cry of mingled shock and pain as he smacked her again.
He spanked her hard and fast for the first minute, alternate cheeks until Lucy felt like her bottom must be on fire. She wriggled and gasped and gave little sharp cries as his hand cracked down again and again.
Then he paused and after a few seconds began to spank her far more slowly. It almost felt like he was giving careful consideration to each and every smack. Where exactly to make it land… exactly how hard it should be. For Lucy this was almost worse than the initial torrent. This was a torture. She couldn’t tell whether the next one would be hard or soft…. whether it would land on an area that was already hot from the number of smacks it had taken or whether it would land on a new unmarked area of flesh. That was torture; but what was most torturous of all was how much it excited her. She didn’t want to be aroused, but she was and she knew he would be aware of it too. She felt her face blaze almost as red as her bottom with the shame of it.
At the end of five minutes she was allowed to stand. She got to her feet, trembling more than she had been before the spanking had started.
Rob smiled at her. ‘Well Lucy? Still want me to come for the first sitting?’
She didn’t trust herself to speak but simply nodded her head dumbly.
He chuckled at her discomfiture. ‘I’ll let myself out then.’ he said. ‘See you on the 16th.’
Once he had gone Lucy went up to her bedroom. She stood in front of the mirror and lifted her skirt, twisting around so that she could see her bottom. As she had expected it was bright red. Heaven knows what colour it would be next time. For there would be a next time, of that Lucy was certain. Now that he had gone she could feel her composure returning. The spanking had hurt, more than she had thought it would, but it hadn’t been unbearable. She would grit her teeth and get through it and at the end there would be the portrait she wanted so much.
Lucy had five days before the first sitting. She was busy during the day and didn’t have much time to think about it. It was only in bed at night that her thoughts wandered back to that initial encounter and all that it promised for the sessions to come. It was inevitable as she brought it back to life as she lay in the darkness that it should excite her again. The first night she fought those feelings down, ashamed again that being spanked like a naughty little girl should turn her on so much. But the second night she gave way to the feelings that pressed on her as she remembered Rob’s hand cracking down on her bare bum. She slipped a moistened finger between her legs and gave herself the relief she craved, coming to a juddering, gasping climax not once but three times in rapid succession.
Perhaps it was those night time thoughts, but whatever the reason, by the time the 16th dawned Lucy was in a completely different frame of mind about her coming ordeal. She had a new determination. Instead of fighting her arousal she would welcome it. It would still be painful, of that she had no doubt, but this time the pain would be intermingled with pleasure.
He arrived exactly on time and unlike before seemed happy to make conversation with her as he set up his easel. It took him ten minutes or so before he was ready. He stood up and placed his chair in the centre of the room. He sat down on it.
‘Ok Lucy, time to make payment I think.’
Lucy felt herself blush and gave herself a mental kick. Stop it she told herself, relax and don’t be embarrassed when it excites you.
She went and stood by his side and then on his command lifted her skirt and stretched herself across his lap as she had done before. Just like before he slowly lowered her knickers and caressed her bare bottom.
‘Ready?’ he asked her.
‘Yes sir.’ she said
This time there wasn’t the torrent of blows, this time there was a slow build up. He started very gently, spanking her so softly that it hardly hurt at all. And then gradually, very gradually the smacks got harder and hard until after about three minutes he was spanking her with full force. Then a pause, and then the repeat of the teasing, torturous regime he had imposed before – the regime that had excited her so much last time. The effect was the same but this time Lucy did not try to resist it. This time she moaned and gasped and writhed across his lap, pressing herself against him and his growing hardness. Her bottom stung but between her legs she was hot and wet and very excited. The ten minutes seemed to pass in a flash. This time there was a reluctance to her as she stood up and let her skirt fall back over her burning cheeks.
‘Go and stand in the corner facing the wall. And lift your skirt.’
That hadn’t been in the agreement. ‘Why sir?’ she pouted.
Rob smiled ‘Because I very much doubt whether you could sit still at the moment, and if you can’t sit still I can’t paint you.’
She accepted the logic of the argument, even if she couldn’t understand why her cooling down period needed to be spent in the corner. But she decided not to argue and went and took up the position he had ordered.
The sitting took two hours. Lucy had hoped to see what he had started but Rob was very jealous of his work in progress and insisted in taking it way with him.
‘It will spoil it if you see it now. I only want you to see it when its finished.’ he told her.
She pouted again and he laughed ‘You’re beginning to get into the punished schoolgirl role beautifully. That pout is perfect. Perhaps we’ll see more of it next time when the slippers been applied to your peachy bottom.’
She returned his grin. ‘Wait and see.’ she said.
The slipper wasn’t a slipper at all. It was a gym shoe – a light canvas upper with a rubber sole. To Lucy’s eyes it looked fairly inocuous, but in this case feeling, rather than seeing was believing.
The second spanking had been a very different experience to the first. The first had been shocking and shaming, the second both painful and exciting. With the slipper Lucy was back to shock. It just hurt so much! He gave her no warm up this time but smacked it down with hard, heavy slaps that echoed around the room. How Lucy managed to endure the ten minutes over his lap she couldn’t have said.
It was only afterwards as she stood in the corner, her skirt held up and her red bottom on display that she began to feel excited again. Now the pain had turned to a hot glow that seemed to infuse her whole body. She found it hard to stand still and was desperate to slip her fingers between her legs but that had to wait. It was only later once Rob had gone that she was able to lie face down on her bed and bring herself again to that back-arching climax.
It was with some trepidation that Lucy awaited the final sitting. If the slipper had hurt so much, then what would the cane be like? –especially on top of the spanking she was due first. As ever he was totally punctual – although his general appearance was scruffy it was clear to Lucy that here was a man who was disciplined and enjoyed imposing that discipline on others. Amongst the usual paraphenalia that he brought in from the car was one object that she hadn’t seen before: a long crook-handled cane, just like those pictured in some of the old school stories that had once been her father’s and were still in the library at Westfield Park. He hung it on the back of his easel. Seeing that cane made her shiver with both fear and suppressed excitement. What on earth was it going to be like? Would she be able to bear twelve strokes? She didn’t have long to wait.
When he had finished setting up Rob placed the usual upright chair in the middle of the room and sat down
‘The final instalment.’ He announced. ‘Come here your ladyship.’
Nervously Lucy walked over and stood at his side.
‘Over my knee.’ He ordered.
Lucy lowered herself into the familiar position, feeling her heart beat increase as he lifted her skirt. As before her knickers were slowly lowered to her knees and as before the spanking began.
She was spanked slowly and carefully. It was as though he was trying to cover every inch of her bottom equally and equally as hard. He wasn’t brutal with her, each smack stung but not unbearably so and the build up of heat, both on her bottom and between her legs was gradual. She moaned softly as the inevitable excitement grew and squirmed across his knee pressing herself down against him to give herself some illicit stimulation.
She got exactly ten minutes before she was told to stand. She got shakily to her feet and rubbed her bottom, it was hot to the touch. Her knickers slipped down to her ankles and after a moment’s hesitation as to whether to pull them up or not she stepped out of them – she knew only to well that the cane was going to be applied to her bare bottom as well.
Rob watched her with a broad smile on his face. After a few moments he spoke.
‘I think you had better fetch me the cane young lady.’ He said.
Lucy nodded her head and walked across to the easel. She unhooked the cane and held it in her hands. It was thin and whippy and Lucy knew with sudden dread that it was really going to hurt. Her hands shook as she took it over to Rob. She held it out to him but he wouldn’t take it from her.
‘I want to hear you ask for your caning.’ He said softly.
Lucy swallowed hard – she hadn’t been expecting this.
‘What do you want me to say?’ she asked nervously.
‘I want you to say why you deserve the cane and then ask me to punish you.’
‘Ok.’ She stood there biting her lip.
‘Go on.’ He urged.
‘I… I… deserve to be caned…’ Lucy began ‘As payment for my portrait…. so please cane me.’
‘No Lucy you deserve to be caned because you’re a spoilt little rich girl.’
Lucy felt herself flush. She stood silent.
‘Say it.’ He ordered.
‘I deserve to be caned because I’m a spoilt little rich girl.’ She said through clenched teeth.
‘Say it again… say it like you mean it.’
He reached forward lifted her skirt and slapped her thighs, hard, twice. She gave a little yelp and tears sprang to her eyes.
‘Say it.’ He ordered.
Lucy felt her resistance start to crumble as a single tear ran down her cheek. This was humiliating, but it was also exciting.
She took a deep breath. ‘I deserve to be caned because I am a spoilt little rich girl.’ She said clearly.
‘How many strokes?’
‘Twelve sir.’
‘And with what severity?’
‘Maximum.’ She said, feeling a sudden rush of adrenalin go through her as she said the word.
‘So say it again all of it.’
‘Please cane me sir.’ Lucy said, her eyes on his as she proffered the cane . ‘I’m a spoilt little rich girl and I thoroughly deserve to be severely thrashed. So please give me twelve hard strokes on my bare bottom.’
By the time she had said this she was trembling with fear and excitement. She could see the same arousal as him as he took the cane from her and flexed it in his hands. He stood up.
‘Right Lucy, lift your skirt and bend over the back of the chair.’
Lucy did as he instructed, lifting the back of her skirt to expose her red cheeks and then bending forward over the chair back, reaching right over to support herself by grabbing the legs of the chair. This position left her with her bare bottom high in the air and with a felling of complete vulnerability.
Rob tapped the back of her thigh with the tip of the cane. ‘Widen your stance, move your feet right apart.’ He ordered.
Now she was even more exposed, knowing that in this position he could see everything including the clear evidence of her arousal.
‘You will count each stroke aloud and thank me for it.’ He told her.
She didn’t trust her voice to respond but mutely nodded her head. She gave a little gasp as the cane was placed across the centre of her bottom as he lined up the first stroke, then tensed as he drew his arm back.
There was a swishing sound behind her, a sharp crack, and then a fraction of a second later a burning line across her bottom. She came up onto her toes riding the intense pain her mind reeling with the shock of it. The pain seemed to increase with each moment but as it did so she felt her body respond with a pure jolt of sexual excitement that filled her from head to toes. She gasped and shuddered and struggled to find breath to speak. It was seconds before she could say ‘One sir, thank-you.’
For the next five minutes all else ceased to exist for Lucy apart from that cane. That cane which brought such heights of pain and pleasure with every stroke. She counted each aloud as she had been instructed but her mind barely registered the numbers and it was a surprise when she heard him say ‘Very good Lucy, you may stand and rub.’
She was trembling as she stood, carefully she reached back and rubbed her chastised bottom, feeling the painful raised lines that the cane had marked there. She was still in a daze as he led her over to her normal position in the corner and made her stand there with her skirt lifted. The cool air was welcome on her hot bottom and as the minutes went by she slowly recovered herself. She couldn’t quite believe the experience he had just put her through and yet she would never forget it. Indeed it would be something she would yearn for over and over again. The final sitting was not an easy one for Lucy, not least because she found it so hard to sit still, but also because she was dying to see the completed work. Rob worked hard, his brow furrowed with concentration. At last he stepped back, wiped his brush and gave a broad grin.
‘Completed.’ He said with satisfaction.
‘Can I see?’ Lucy asked eagerly.
‘Of course.’
She made her way around to the other side of the easel. She was prepared to be stunned, and in that she was not disappointed. The portrait she had commissioned was all she could have hoped for, but even more amazing was the second canvas beside it. There she was portrayed as well, but not face on as in the first but from behind, standing in the corner, her skirt bunched up around her waist in her hands, her pretty bottom striped with the red marks of the cane.
‘A little bonus.’ Rob remarked smiling.
She returned his smile and then reached across to unhook the cane from where he had hung it on the back of the easel. She handed it to him still smiling
‘And one bonus deserves another don’t you think?’

I’m drunk, so buzz off.


Bob and Angel met at a mutual friend’s wedding. Bob was the best man and Angel was the maid of honor. The bride was Angel’s best friend since second grade. The 2 had been through everything together, Angel had lost both her parents in a terrible car accident when she was in 4th grade, and Mary had been there for her and helped her through it. Angel was sent to live with her uncle and aunt, but Angel rebelled and was a nightmare. Mary’s father was a preacher and tried to council the family. Finally her uncle had kicked her out in the 9th grade for getting pregnant and drinking. Angel turned to drugs and lost the baby. She ran right to Mary who helped her. They hid Angel in Mary’s attic for a week before Mary’s father discovered their secret.


“Both of you downstairs to my study, right now” he yelled. Mary started to sob and Angel just yelled. “Go to hell, I’m out of here”


Pastor Dan grabbed her by the arm and swatted her behind really hard, 10 slaps landed on her bottom. Angel was so shocked she just stood there looking at him. That was the first time she felt loved since her parents died. Mary’s parents took her in and treated her like one of their own. They never hesitated to dish out discipline when necessary. They had saved her life and now she was here at their daughter’s wedding. It brought a tear to her eye. She was so happy for Mary but also jealous, she hadn’t dated much, she was afraid; she was only 14 when she got pregnant and lost a child. How could she tell anyone that? She didn’t trust anyone, she had put up a wall and it was always hard to get through.


“Would my lovely daughter like to dance with me?” Pastor Dan asked. Angel smiled at him; he always made her feel special.


“Of course I would, thank you Dan.” she said.


“You looked a million miles away, what you were thinking about?” he asked.


“Oh, just about how lucky Mary was and I hope I’ll have the same thing someday.” Angel smiled at him


“You will someday, you just have to open your heart, and it will all be ok. I see Bob has been eying you all day, he is a wonderful person, he is a building contractor, has his own company and single.” Dan smiled


“Don’t start, when I’m ready, why does everyone think I need a damn match maker?” she yelled. Dan went stiff and looked at her.


“I’m sorry; I’m just tired and overwhelmed. I didn’t mean to curse or yell at you. You’ve been wonderful to me. I’m really sorry” she cried, she felt like a little girl in trouble.


“OK, I’ll let it go, because it’s a beautiful, lovely day. I know you are scared but there is a life out there for you, if you just let it happen.” The song was over and they walked off together. The rest of the night was great, everyone was having a ball. Angel didn’t want to drink, she had been sober for 8 yrs. now, but tonight she needed a drink. She had one drink and then another, before she knew it she was drunk. She didn’t want her family to know, so she went outside. Bob saw her leave and also saw she was in no condition to drive, he ran after her.


“Hey honey, you’re not thinking of driving are you?” he asked her.


“No, I’m just hiding, I don’t want anyone to know I’m drunk, so buzz off.” she slurred her words.


That was the first night Bob had tanned her hid. They had been together for 8 months now. Angel still had not told him much of her past, she knew he would support her, but was still scared to tell him. She also knew he was thinking of asking her to marry him. This scared her. She needed to get out and have fun, get her mind off things. So she called her friend Mary.


“Hey, Mary, it’s Angel. I really need to go out tonight, do you think you can get out?” she asked.


“Well, I’m kind of grounded. I over spent my allowance, by a lot. I’m sorry.” Mary cried


“Oh man, this sucks. Is John home, doesn’t he work late tonight? We will just go out for a little bit, coffee at the diner. Please.” Angel begged


“I don’t know, I can’t sit comfortably now, if john finds out, i won’t have a butt left, what if he calls?” Mary said.


“Wait I got it, call forwarding, has the calls sent to your cell phone that way if he calls you can still answer. Please I really need to talk to you. I promise we’ll be home by 10 the latest, he won’t be home till 12, and you’ll have plenty of time.” Angel begged.


“Oh ok, you always get me in trouble, this is the last time, I’ll meet you at the diner at 7, we’ll have coffee and cake and then leave.” Mary said.


“OK 7pm; don’t forget to forward your calls. You’re the best, thanks, I love you.” Angel cried.


“Yeah, yeah, yeah, see you then.” Mary hung up. She knew this was so wrong, but her best friend needed her, she sounded so desperate.


They met in the parking lot at 7pm sharp. Mary was so fidgety; she kept dropping her keys and shaking.


“I’m sorry Mary; do you want to go home? He’ll never find out, it’s just a quick cup of coffee. I need to talk to you about
Bob, i think he may propose.” Angel said.


“OH my God, Really, I’m so happy for you, OK one cup of coffee and then I’ll leave. This is so exciting.” Mary cried. They walked in together, laughing and talking. Mary did not notice her husband sitting at the counter with his partner. He did not look happy. He waited till they sat down and were looking at the menu. Then walked over“Hi Mary, hi Angel, how’s it going?” john asked. Mary went pale. Angel smiled at him. She would have to try her hardest to get Mary out of this mess.


“John, before you get upset with Mary, this is my fault, I begged her to come out with me. I really needed to talk; she was just being good friend, sister really. Please don’t be mad at her.” Angel begged.


“Mary knows better, she was grounded, if you needed to talk you could have done so in the on the phone. Isn’t that right Mary?” john asked


“Yes Sir, I really am sorry, but you see Angel thinks Bob is going to propose and she needed to talk about stuff. I’m really sorry.” Mary started to cry. John looked at her, he loved her so much. She was always trying to help, and when it came to Angel, she forgot about everything, even common sense to go out when she was punished.


“Mary I love you, you could have called me and asked me I might have let you, but you made things ten times worse for yourself by lying to me. What do you think I would have thought if i called the house and you didn’t answer? I would have thought something is wrong with you.” John said. Mary started to cry more.


“I kind of forwarded calls to my cell, so if you called you would have thought I was home.” Mary cried. Johns face got very still and red. He looked really mad, Angel felt scared and upset for her friend.


“John, that was my idea, i told her to do that, I’m really sorry.” Angel said.


“I would like for you two to go home, our house, and wait for me, I’ll see if i can get off early and wait for me. It’s going to be a long night, and Angel I’m calling Bob. He will meet us there. Go now” He yelled. Angel thought, thank God there weren’t a lot of people in the diner, this was so embarrassing.


Angel and Mary arrived at the house, Mary was in tears.


“I am so sorry Mary, please don’t hate me.” Angel cried.


“I don’t hate you, i am mad at myself, i should have just said no to you, and stayed home. Now I’m really going to be hurting, he punished me 2 days ago, it’s going to be a lot worse on an already sore bottom.” Mary cried. The phone rang and went right to answer it.


“Hello,” it was John


“I’ll be home in an hour, tell Angel Bob is on his way for her and he’s not too happy. As for you, go to our room, stand in the corner bare bottom and wait for me. I’m very disappointed in you.” John said and hung up.


Mary told Angel what John had said. They hugged each other and cried.


“Bob has spanked me before, but only over my panties and with his hand. I’m afraid to tell him everything, what if he won’t marry me because of my past.” Angel sobbed


“Is this what this is all about? Bob loves you; he will accept every part of you, even your past. As for me, i can probably expect the paddle on my bare; if I’m lucky he won’t use the belt. I never lied to him before, I’m scared. I know he would never hurt me on purpose, but i do deserve this. He told me he was disappointed. Oh Angel, I love him, this sucks, I should have just told you no and waited till he came home.” Mary sobbed


“When have you ever been able to tell me no, you’ve been getting in trouble with me since i can remember. Maybe he’ll go easy on you, since it was my fault.” Angel hugged her. Just then the bell rang. Mary went to go answer it.


“Aren’t you supposed to be in your room with your nose in the corner?” Bob asked.


“Yes, i was just about to go, when the bell rang.” Angel said.


“Well then go” Bob said and smacked her on her rear.


“Bob, don’t do that to Mary.” Angel yelled


“I wouldn’t be talking if i were you. Mary goes; we’ll lock up on our way out.” Bob said.


Oh and tell John we’ll be back tomorrow to get Angel’s car.” Bob said


“OK, sorry again for getting Angel in trouble.” Mary said


“From what i hear it’s mostly her fault, now get upstairs, we’re leaving.” Bob said. He walked Angel out to his truck.


“You my little girl is in trouble, i can’t wait to hear what excuse you have for taking Mary out when you knew she was in trouble.” Bob said. Angel started to answer him, but he put his hand up.


“We’ll wait till we get to my place, straight to the bed room when we get there, nose in corner, pants off.” he said


“Yes sir. Angel said very quietly.


They arrived at his house, and Angel did as she was told. She knew this was the day she would have to tell him the whole story.




Texting Trouble, By Jennie May

Texting Trouble
By Jennie May

Ali pulled out of the gas station and made a right turn. She’d managed to get her errands out-of-the-way quickly and was thankful to be almost home. She reached for the radio to crank up the country music when she heard her phone beep.
She glanced down at her bag and pulled out her sleek, shiny cell phone. It had been a birthday present from her husband. Jim was always up on the latest technology and was sweet about buying her gadgets that would make her life easier.
The message was a text from Jim. It said, “Hey babe. Did you pick up milk?”
She grinned and texted him back, her fingers flying on the tiny keys. “Yes, I did.”
She used the texting feature on her phone so often that she’d had to start wearing her fingernails shorter. One of her errands that day had been to stop by the nail salon and get them painted a pretty pink. She loved the way the soft color looked with her long, auburn hair.
The phone beeped again. She pushed the message button as she absently turned a corner. The message said “Are you at home?”
She froze. She knew what he was really asking. When Jim bought her the phone he had laid down the rules. There was to be no talking while driving unless she was using a hands-free device. That rule was easy because Ali liked her little blue-tooth earpiece and because it was illegal to drive and speak on a cell phone at the same time. She knew that they couldn’t afford the ticket that would result if she was pulled over. Another of Jim’s rules, however, was harder for her to follow. Jim had told her that she was not allowed to text and drive.
She knew that Jim was right. Texting took her eyes off the road and her attention off her driving. It was the instant nature of texting that made her do it, though. She could give an immediate response to a question or statement by just firing off a few letters. It was so quick and easy that she rarely thought about it before responding.
Ali considered her options. She could lie, tell Jim she was still parked at the gas station. She knew she wouldn’t do that, though. She just couldn’t lie to her husband, and if for some reason he found out she was lying she would be in much bigger trouble than she was already. She decided not to respond at all.
She was only a few blocks from home. As she turned onto their street she could see that Jim’s SUV was already parked in the driveway. She pulled her little sedan in beside him and turned off the engine. She grabbed her bags and got out of the car, brushing Jim’s big black vehicle as she did. It was warm, which meant he’d only just gotten home himself. She let herself into the house and went to the kitchen to put her groceries away.
He came into the kitchen from the hallway. He had his jacket off, and his tie was loosened. Ali knew he’d been in the process of changing out of his work clothes. He pulled her in for a kiss, and she purred.
Jim was an average height, a few inches taller than his wife. He had dark hair and dark eyes that could smolder with passion when he was aroused or angry. However he was normally very calm and controlled. His personality just didn’t lend itself to flying off the handle. He held Ali in his arms and studied her. “You didn’t answer my text.”
She shrugged a little and smiled. “I was almost home.”
He moved his hands to her waist. “You were driving?”
She sighed, and then she nodded.
He kissed her again. “Are you finished unpacking your groceries?”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice. There had only been a few things to put away.
“Then let’s go talk in the bedroom,” he told her, taking her hand in his.
Ali’s heart thumped. She knew what Jim meant by talk, and it wasn’t talking. Well, maybe Jim would talk for a while. She followed her husband down the hall and into their room.
Jim and Ali had been married two years and had been in their house for only a few months. This was the house where they planned to have a family within the next few years. They were a very traditional couple and had been from the beginning of their relationship. They were both raised in traditional families, and they both wanted their own family to mimic the way they grew up.
In their eyes part of being a traditional couple was that the man was the head of the house, and the woman okpsubmitted both to his directions and his discipline. This was something Ali knew she wanted in a relationship long before she met like-minded Jim.
Jim had been the perfect companion for her. He was steady and easy-going while she had a tendency to get irrational. She brought creativity and spark into his life while he brought order and stability into hers. He was a true leader, always giving her space to express her opinions and giving into her preferences whenever possible. He did not hesitate to correct her, though, especially when he felt that her safety was at risk.
Jim pulled her into their bedroom and sat on the bed’s homemade quilt, a wedding gift from Ali’s grandmother. He placed his hands on Ali’s hips and pulled her toward him, standing her between his parted legs.
“Well?” he asked. “You have anything to say about this?”
Ali took a breath and then shook her head. “I was texting while I was driving. I shouldn’t have done it.”
Jim nodded. “Okay. But I want to know why you did it. Didn’t I tell you it was against the rules?”
Ali sucked on her bottom lip. “Yes.”
“And don’t you know that it’s dangerous?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Jim shook his head. “Then why?”
Ali thought about it and couldn’t find a reasonable answer. “I just wasn’t thinking,” she finally admitted.
Jim frowned. He appeared to be thinking. “Honey, you need a spanking to help you remember to think before you act.”
Ali wasn’t surprised but she felt herself tremble just the same. She knew he was right. She had disobeyed, and she had to face the consequences. If Jim let these things go, he wouldn’t be the husband she’d wanted.
Jim looked her in the eye, and his voice was stern. “I make rules for your protection. You made a promise to obey when we got married, and I am going to hold you to that promise. Do you understand?”
She swallowed and nodded, forcing herself to meet his eyes. She knew that disobedience was the same as breaking her wedding vows, and that was very serious.
“Driving is a privilege, young lady,” Jim told her. “It’s one that I will take away from you if you can’t handle it responsibly.”
“Please don’t,” Ali said quietly. She liked the freedom of having her own car and being able to go out when she wanted. She knew that Jim could easily take her car away. She didn’t have a job to go to. They’d agreed when they were engaged that she would make their home her focus. She used the car for shopping and other activities. If she didn’t have a car, Jim could always take her when he wasn’t working.
“I’m not going to do that now,” he said. “I do want you to know that it could happen, though. I’m very serious about you driving safely. Let me ask you something. Do you think you would be texting while driving if our children were in the car?”
Ali had never thought about it before, but she knew that once she and Jim had a family she wouldn’t take those kinds of risks. She shook her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it wouldn’t be safe,” she told him.
He nodded. “It’s not safe for you either.”
“I know,” she said softly.
He moved his large hands from her hips and put them around her smaller hands. “This time you’re getting a spanking. Do it again and you’ll get another spanking and lose your driving privileges for two weeks. Got it?”
“Yes,” she answered. Her bottom was tingling already, and her knees were starting to feel a little squishy. Spankings from Jim were nothing to take lightly. He was the kind of man who did everything the best way he knew how, including disciplining his wife. His intention was to make her regret her actions, and he wouldn’t stop until he was sure that had happened.
“Go get your paddle,” he told her.
She felt a stab of anxiety in her chest, but she obeyed. She opened the top right drawer of her dresser where she kept odds and ends, and she pulled out a small wooden paddle. It was shaped like a stirring spoon, and she knew that it was a lot more dangerous than it looked. She handed it to Jim, and he placed it on the bed. Then he pulled her down across his lap so that her chest and head were supported by the bed but her legs were dangling. Her bottom was centered on his lap. He flipped up her wool skirt and put his hand on her panties.
Ali felt embarrassed, ashamed and anxious. She was already on the verge of tears, knowing she had put herself in this childish position by her own lack of maturity. Jim’s hand on her bottom made her feel helpless.
She cringed when he pulled her panties down to reveal her bare bottom. Jim had sometimes spanked her on her panties, and a few times even on the seat of her skirt, but he spanked her bare bottom for serious infractions.
Jim wasted no time. He began spanking her hard and fast, the swats following each other in fractions of a second. She felt the heat immediately, and this was followed by a sting so painful she felt like she had carpet burn. It spread over and into her bottom like olive oil on bread until it saturated her cheeks. The tears spilled and collected on the quilt beneath her, and it wasn’t long before she was sobbing.
Jim stopped for a moment and let her get herself under control. “You understand that I’m serious about this?”
“Yes,” she cried incredulously. How could she not understand? Her bottom was throbbing.
She felt the paddle tap against her sore bottom, and she sucked in her breath and began to babble through her tears. “Jim, I’m sorry. Please don’t paddle me. I’m so sorry.”
“Tell me you won’t text and drive anymore,” Jim said.
“I won’t!” she promised.
Jim brought the paddle down with a loud thwack. Ali jumped and cried out.
“Tell me again,” Jim commanded.
“I won’t text and drive,” Ali shrieked. “I won’t!”
Jim swatted her hard. “Again.”
“I won’t! Jim, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again.”
She felt the next paddle swat low on her bottom cheeks. It hurt. “I won’t text and drive,” she said quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I promise.”
He paddled her hard several more times, and she found herself thrust into a storm of tears. When he was finished, he stood her in front of him. She was still crying hard, and her bottom hurt. Her hands flew behind her to try in vain to rub the sting from her sore bottom.
Jim brought her down to sit on his lap, and she flinched as her bottom made contact with his pants. He brushed the hair away from her wet eyes and kissed her on the nose.
“We’re not going to have to do this again, are we?”
She shook her head, although she suspected that sometime over the next fifty or so years she would find herself in this position. She knew that it would most likely be sooner than later. However she knew that the purpose of his question was to confirm that she had learned her lesson about texting while driving, and she had. It was one mistake she was not going to repeat.
She put her arms around him then and rested her head on his shoulder. He held her tightly for several minutes before gently placing her on the bed. “I’ll make dinner,” he told her.
She smiled up at him and nodded. When he had left the room she allowed herself a few minutes to reflect on this, the marriage she’d dreamed about since she was a child. Then she put her pajamas on and went out to join him for dinner.