He stood to attention in front of the three ladies who held his immediate future in their hands. He was old for the shorts, knee length socks and grey shirt that he was wearing but he didn’t feel that way as they slit open the envelope he had handed to them.

They read it frowning, occasionally shooting sharp glances at him and pointing out passages to each other. Finally the punishment mistress folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. “So,” she said, ‘you’ve been sent here again. It seems you never learn. Or perhaps you like being given a sore bottom. Do you?”

“ No, Miss,” he muttered.

“ Speak up, I didn’t hear you”.

“ No,” he said more loudly.

“ I think you must do. Perhaps we have been too kind in the past. We must put that right this time. Your mistress said she had to punish you three days ago. Is that right?”

“ Yes,” his voice was soft again, then he repeated the word more loudly.

“ And that was for breach of rules was it? What did you get?”

“ A slippering; 25 strokes”.

“ Hmm, A slipper can be very effective, but it seems you need more than that. Does your mistress ever cane you?”

“ Sometimes”.

“ How many strokes?”

Twelve usually; sometimes more.”

“ And that still hasn’t mended your manners. We’ll have to go to the next level, I think. Do you know what that is?” He shook his head.

“ I think you’re going to find out tomorrow. And it won’t be 12 strokes. It will be much more. I think you can go to bed how and think about the behaviour that has led you here. Tomorrow morning, the senior nurse will examine you thoroughly and unless she finds any reason otherwise you will be placed over that horse”, she pointed to the corner, “and birched until you think your bottom is on fire.

“ Once you are in bed it will be lights out. And just remember, if you misbehave in any way you will be punished tonight and it will not count against tomorrow’s punishment.”

IN the narrow bed sleep would not come. Instead he saw visions of himself helpless across the horse as stroke after stroke landed on his bottom. Time crawled by but he could not check his watch because it had been confiscated. He might have been in bed half-an-hour or three hours and he could hear the television playing downstairs. The emptiness of time was agony and he wondered if he dared risk putting the light on and reading the book he had brought just to take his mind off what was to happen in the morning.

Eventually he heard the ladies turn off the television and climb the stairs to their room. He shut his eyes and pretended to sleep. The door knob turned and he sensed somebody in the room. Then it closed again and he heard preparations for bed in other bedrooms.

More time dragged by. Surely the ladies must be asleep. He needed the lavatory and perhaps he could hear whether they were sleeping. On his way back he placed his ear against the doors. No sound except for deep breathing. Still, he turned his light out and again pretended to sleep. Eventually he thought it must be safe, turned the light on and got out a book. Perhaps half-an-hour elapsed when he heard a noise. Swiftly he turned out the light but the door opened and one of the younger ladies stood framed in the door. And was that a cane in her hand? It was.

“ Don’t bother to pretend,” she said calmly. She picked up his book….”or can you read in the dark? Turn over on your stomach.” He felt the blankets drawn back, then the pause before the first stroke fell. “Only six,” she said. “We don’t want to spoil you for tomorrow, do we?” After finishing she withdrew, turning the light out. He heard her using the lavatory and the toilet flush. His fingers explored the welts on his bottom. And that had been no more than a taste of what was to come.

In the morning he was awoken and ordered to shower and dress. He was watched by a young woman in nurse uniform who carried a short strap on her belt. When he tried to conceal his nakedness she said crisply, “Don’t bother with that. I’ve seen it all before. If you’re ready come down stairs”. They went into the same room as at the interview, only this time the punishment horse was in the middle of the floor. The elder woman passed over his mistress’s letter. “Read that aloud,” she commanded.

In a trembling voice he did as he was bidden. The litany of crimes seemed endless. Rudeness, idleness, dishonesty, dirtiness, failure to do chores, failure to obey rules, crimes of commission and omission, punishments administered, punishments evaded. It seemed she had forgotten nothing. Eventually he finished. There was a silence.

Then:

“ You have been sent here because your mistress seems to feel she cannot deal with you herself. She is at the end of her tether. She has caned you, slippered you, spanked you, made you write lines, withheld your pocket money, grounded you and employed every other inducement she can to make you behave, including bribery. None of these has worked.

“ Well, I can tell you that she may feel that she has reached the limit, but we haven’t even started. You will receive 60 strokes of the birch in groups of 12, and maybe more if we feel it is necessary. Do you have anything to say?”

He felt his knees giving way. “60 strokes?” he queried. “Oh, please!”

“ Ah, ‘please’. He has found some manners and we haven’t even started. Nurse, take him upstairs and examine him properly. Make sure he is clean and check that he is fit to undergo punishment. Bring him down in 20 minutes.”

Nurse took him by the arm and led him back to the bathroom. “Strip,” she ordered. When he was naked he was ordered to kneel in the bath with his bottom well in the air. Nurse examined the marks on his bottom from the previous night. “So you’ve misbehaved already. What a silly boy you are. Spread your legs as much as you can.” He felt his cheeks being parted and a tube being slipped into his anus. Warm water was pumped in; the sensation was not unpleasant but when the tube was slipped out he was overcome by an urge for the toilet. “Get up. And I told you before, take your hands away. Now go to the toilet.”

He had no control over his bowels but he was crimson as she watched him coolly. When he had finished she ordered him back to the bath. Twice more he received the treatment. Then nurse took his pulse, listened to his heart through a stethoscope and checked his blood pressure. “Dress,” she ordered.

Back in the ladies room his eyes fell on four birches. “Fit to undergo punishment,” said the nurse crisply.

“ Very good. Trousers down,” said the punishment mistress. “Over the horse please.”

The punishment horse had a kneeling pad half way down the legs. The nurse guided him on to it then stretched him over the broad back of the horse. His hands were tied together and he was stretched until they could be slipped over a protuberance like the pommel of a saddle. He realised that it didn’t matter; he couldn’t use them to protect himself. His shirt tail was raised as far as possible and a broad strap passed across his back and latched on either side of the horse before attention moved to his rear end. His underpants were slid down to just above his knees. Low voices instructed him to move this way or that and cool hands inserted themselves between his thighs and guided them apart. Straps were fixed round each thigh separately, the hands brushing his genitals. It would have been supremely humiliating had he not realised that within minutes humiliation would be the least of his troubles.

The nurse said: “He’s ready” and out of the corner of his eye he saw hands reaching out for the birches. The elder woman then spoke: “You know you have been sent here for severe punishment. You have been sentenced to 60 strokes of the birch and this punishment will now be carried out. Ladies, are you ready?” There were murmurs of assent and he felt the roughness of one birch against his left cheek, then the other against the right. There was one woman on each side. they tapped him a few times until they were sure of their range, then they waited.

The order was given. “Nurse, count the strokes out loud. Carry out the punishment ladies”.

The first strokes took his breath away, then he met each new one with a half suppressed gasp. He heard the nurse’s count and at first tried to relate it to how many more were to come then he gave up.

After each dozen strokes there was a short pause before the flogging resumed. After the first dozen he could no longer hold still, his bottom and thighs straining against his bonds. Twice the punishment mistress curtly told him to be still unless he wanted extra strokes. One of the women, the larger of the two, flogged in steady sweeps. The smaller in short vicious strokes sometimes jumping off the ground in her efforts to obtain maximum effect. Each stroke was given alternately at the rate of about one every ten seconds..

At 30 strokes the nurse moved in and listened to him with her stethoscope while he prayed she would give word for the punishment to stop but all she said was: “Carry on,” and continued the count.

During another pause the nurse said: “Hold on a minute, please.” She examined his left cheek closely before placing a plaster. He must have been cut; surely now they would stop? They didn’t. The punishment resumed until the full measure had been given. Again the nurse checked him over and passed him fit. Was it his imagination, or did he hear a note of satisfaction in her voice. The senior lady told him he would now be given time to recover himself, and the women left the room. He panted and felt his racing pulse slow down. Beads of sweat fell on the leather of the horse.

When the women returned the punishment mistress said: “I am glad it was not necessary to administer additional strokes although it came close to it. You now know that when you are sent here for punishment we give your mistress value for money. You will now be released and you may go to your room and stay there until lunchtime. After lunch you will be given chores of the type you seem to find so distasteful. You will be expected to perform them well. If you don’t there will be more punishment. Release him, ladies.”

The bonds were released and he was helped to his feet, His knees were like jelly. He pulled up his pants, wincing as they passed over his scorched cheeks. He gathered up his trousers.

“ Before you go, what do you say to these ladies who have devoted themselves to improving you?”

It flitted through his mind as to what he wanted to say, but he muttered, “Thank you for punishing me”. The senior lady dismissed him with a nod and he climbed the stairs slowly and shut his bedroom door behind him.

Taking down his pants he looked at his bottom in the mirror. It was deep scarlet with a tracery of lines and pin-pricks of blood. He threw himself face down on the bed and let the palms of his hand slide across the injured area, When he got home, his mistress would want to look at his bottom and a smile would cross her face. But there was still a day of chores before that could happen and he now knew that the senior lady meant every word she had said.

The door opened softly and he looked up to see the nurse with a pot of ointment in her hand. “Stay where you are,” she said gently. “You will see we have a forgiving nature after punishment is over. Now, let’s see what we can do about that bottom of yours.”
sent in by Smartin' Martin

You have asked me what I think you are doing wrong in your efforts to impose home discipline on your partner. After listening carefully to what you had to say I think I have the answer.
Consistency is the key to home discipline, On previous occasions you have, on my advice, tried corporal punishment. The problem is you weren’t consistent. Jonathan never knows what reaction to expect when he behaves badly so, on the basis that he would probably get away with it, he doesn’t modify his behaviour.
My husband was once like that until I told him that I would not put up with his behaviour any longer and he would either conform to my rules and accept my punishments or I would seek a divorce on the grounds of his unreasonable behaviour. It didn’t take him long to choose the first option.
I set out rules, ending up with an all-purpose ‘Such behaviour as I deem unacceptable’ and a list of punishments, ranging from reprimand, extra chores, being grounded on his usual night out with the boys, going on to spanking by hand or slipper, the strap, cane or birch. As time passed I added other elements. Each punishment carries points, one for a reprimand, two for chores, three for being grounded, four for spanking, one point per stroke for strap or cane. On Friday night the week’s score are totalled and if it exceeds 24 next day he has to go to woods near our house and gather together twigs for a birch or birches. He makes them up and leave them to soak in a tin bath until Sunday morning when I administer one stroke for each point scored during the week. If that score adds up to more than 40, the punishment is split, half in the morning, half in the evening.
Once these rules were set up I carried them out consistently. Martin knows that if I discover that he has breached rules he will be punished. It doesn’t meant that he never tries it on, far from it, but he can’t say that he wasn’t warned. Part of that consistency is to administer the punishment at the first opportunity. Of course, I might vary severity, from mild if the cause seems to be just thoughtlessness, to severe if it seems like a deliberate breach of rules.
As it happened, it is not long since that I gave him the biggest thrashing he has ever received and it might be instructive to you.
It had all started on Tuesday a week ago. I was preparing the dinner party at which you and Jonathan were among the guests. I had given Martin a list of items I needed and told him to get back early with them. In fact he was late and had only half of what I wanted, having lost the list. This really made me angry and I told him he would get six strokes of the cane. Instead of accepting it he appealed against sentence. Now I allow this with the proviso that if the appeal fails the sentence is doubled and pointed out that he already had a reprimand and extra chores. He came out with a cock-and-bull story which I easily tore to shreds and then I smelled his breath and there was definitely alcohol. That settled it. I told him his punishment would be doubled to 12 strokes and that would mean he had 15 points towards a birching. I didn’t have time to deal with him then as I had to work out what to do to save the dinner but the caning would be administered after dinner.
I think we all enjoyed the dinner but I admit I smiled to myself when one of the guests spoke enviously about my relationship with Martin. Had she but realised it, his evening was to end with him bent across a desk while my cane striped his bare bottom..
For the next few days he was well-behaved and it was not until Friday that the balloon went up. We were opening our post over breakfast when I found an official-looking envelope with my name on it. I opened it and found it was a notification for a traffic violation. Apparently I had jumped some traffic lights in town and would have to pay a fine and have points on my licence. I couldn’t remember doing so but there it was, a picture of my car’s number plate and details of the offence and the date. I must have exclaimed, because Martin reached over to see it. While he was looking at it I suddenly thought: ‘But I didn’t use the car on that date. It was a week of fine weather and I had cycled to school where I taught every day, relishing the exercise. I looked over at Martin and the expression on his face told me all. ‘Was it you?’ I asked. Shamefacedly he nodded and said that he car had not started that day and as he was in a hurry he had used my car.
I had no time to deal with him then but told him we would discuss the matter that evening and unless he had a very good excuse could expect to spend part of Saturday preparing a birch for Sunday. Meanwhile, he could let the police know that it was he who had been driving the car and he could pay the fine and get the points.
He was home earlier than usual, for Friday was his usual night out with the boys, and he was looking distinctly nervous. I made supper then called him to my office to talk about his behaviour. It was only then that the full story came out. He said that while he could pay the fine, if he collected the points he would be banned from driving because he already had nine on his licence. This was news to me. The last I had heard he had six and I had caned him thoroughly for that. It meant he had been keeping something secret from me.
He then pointed out that if he lost his licence, he would lose his job which depended on him being able to drive. If that happened we would not be able to pay for the cottage we had just bought in the country. He pleaded with me to accept the points.
It was then that another thought occurred to me: had he notified our insurers that he was driving. He had such a bad record (it was the original reason for punishing him) that he was barred from driving my car without notifying the insurers. It added yet another crime to the litany.
I told him to go away while I decided on his punishments. Driving my car without permission, failing to inform the insurers (which meant driving while uninsured), jumping lights, causing me to have to accept the points on a licence which had never previously been sullied. It seemed the least he could expect for any of these was 12 strokes and I could see no reason to hold back.
To be fair, he did not try to argue when I told him his punishment. I ordered him to go to our bedroom and change into pyjamas to await his appointment with justice. And for once I had no intention of making it a quick punishment. As I settled down to watch a documentary on television I could hear him moving around the bedroom. I knew he was wishing the punishment was over.
In due course I went up to my office to make preparations. I cleared a long table of paperwork and got from my cupboard some Velcro straps, a school cane, the reform cane – my severest, what some people call a ‘dragon’ and a tawse and a short black strap. I laid them on the table and put a heavy dining chair at each end with its back against the table edge. A cushion over the rail of one of the chairs with the other on the table completed the preparations. and I left my office. He was standing at the door to our bedroom, downcast and asked: ‘Are you going to deal with me now?’ I snapped: ‘I’ll deal with you soon enough. Go to bed.’
I knew he was still awake which I went up at midnight because I heard no deep breathing, but still I ignored him. I had a bath then went to my office, picked up the school cane and went to another bedroom and got ready for bed. Before turning out the lights I put the alarm on for three am and put it under the pillow so it wouldn’t wake him up, and settled down to sleep.
When the alarm went off, I took a shower and changed into my favourite school clothes, a dark pleated skirt and white blouse, loose-fitting to allow plenty of room for movement. I hesitated over whether to put on knickers and stockings, but decided that it would make me feel more empowered to do so. Picking up the cane I went silently to his door and opened it quietly. He was sound asleep. I went to the bed and pinched his earlobe. He awoke silently as I switched on the bedside light. He took in the sight which stood before him. His wife standing sternly by his bed with a cane in her hand. He groaned slightly and clambered out of bed. I told him to follow me and went to my study. His gaze took in the Velcro straps and the tawse, the reform cane and the black strap.
I told him to stand by my desk while I took him through all the offences and asked him if he had anything to say. He shook his head. I then said: ‘I am going to punish you very severely. It will hurt very much. Take off your dressing gown, go over to the table and take up your position and remember, I want you fully stretched out.’
Meekly, he did as he was told, placing one of the cushions under his hips. Using the Velcro straps, I strapped his wrists securely to the back of the chair at one end of the table, then drew the longer ones round his thighs and fastened them to the back of the other dining chair. The other cushion I put under his head so that when he needed to cry

I had decided on school cane first then two sessions with the tawse then the final caning. I wanted him to feel the sharp agony of the cane first. He craned his neck to see me pick it up and I ordered him to look to his front. I swished the cane in the air a few times then tapped his bottom before drawing back for the first stroke. He bucked and reared against his bonds as the cane bit. I waited until his gasps ceased before tapping for the second stroke.
Taking care to keep the strokes horizontal for the desired tramlines effect I dealt with his bottom with all the thoroughness of years of experience, both as teacher and home disciplinarian, allowed. Long before the 12 were finished his face was buried into the pillow to muffle his cries of pain.
After this caning was finished I lectured him on his behaviour as much to give him a few minutes to recover his equilibrium as to demonstrate his faults of which he was by now only too aware. Then it was the turn of the tawse, a finely-tooled three-fingered example of the Scottish leather-maker’s art. Using more than one instrument is good because it means the recipient’s body bottom feels more than one level and type of pain. When I use the tawse I hold the business end back with one hand, the other being on the handle. I start the stroke with both hands together then release the business end to land with a thwack on the bottom.
I do not hurry to get a punishment over. A stroke every ten seconds or so with a short rest at say four and eight makes each section of the punishment last about five minutes. With a ten minute gap between each punishment it stretches the affair out for a satisfactory 50 minutes. By the end of the tawsing his bottom was a dark crimson, crossed with blue from the strokes of the cane. Next it would be the turn of the black strap.
If you had to choose which of my instruments you would prefer to be punished with you would probably go for that strap, but it would be a mistake. I don’t know what makes it so effective, but effective it is, with a full-blooded sting guaranteed to make the hardiest bottom dance. And I can assure you I laid it on hard. In the short rest after each four Martin’s groans and gasps said as much.
Then it was the turn of the reform cane. I call it that because it is the type of cane that was used in reform schools to deter the real young villains. I once tried it on my own bottom, aiming with the help of the mirror, and phew! I knew its worth. And so does Martin.
I gave him his dozen and sat at my desk while he recovered. Then I said: ‘I have realised you are due another punishment, for a traffic offence you did not tell me about. I am not going to administer it now but I will be punishing you for that next week.’ You see, I didn’t want him thinking he had got away with anything.
I untied him, told him to rearrange himself then go to bed. I stayed in the spare room.
Next morning I reminded him of the need to get twigs enough for two birchings. He was owed 48 for the driving offences and he had already incurred another 15 points before then a total of 63. It might be better to get enough twigs for three birches, I said. If I didn’t use all of them one could wait until the next week as with 12 strokes to start with I thought it unlikely he would get away without a birching.
Collecting the twigs and making the birches took him all morning. He brought them to me for inspection and I told him to add another two twigs to one of them before putting them in water to soak. Then I told him to write an essay about his behaviour and its consequences and bring it to me before going to bed.
Sunday birchings run to a pattern, At 9 am I heard his alarm ring. He got up had a shower, made me breakfast and brought my newspaper, before running my bath. Then he had his own breakfast, if he fancied it and I suspected that that morning he might not. The he had to get the birches, shake off the moisture, take them to my office and law them on my desk before setting up the table as described earlier. Finally he stood outside my office, face to the wall with his hands on his head until I was ready to deal with him, usually at about 10-30.
Once out of the bath I got dressed, peeking out to ensure that he was standing in the prescribed position. Sometimes he didn’t and got extra strokes as a result but this time he didn’t seem inclined to take risks. When ready I marched to my office to ensure that everything was as it should be, then called him in. The ritual of positioning him was carrired out, then I pulled down his pyjamas to reveal his well-thrashed bottom. I have to say I had done a pretty brilliant job.
Just the touch of the birch against his bottom was enough to make him flinch. Thirty-two strokes I told him and carried out the beating. By the end of it, he could scarcely stand and certainly did not want to sit for Sunday lunch. I decided to get the second birching over early but I had to threaten him with more punishment before he would take up his position. This time I decided to make the birching swift, as I had once been shown by a nun who deal with discipline at a local convent school. I administered the 31 strokes in a constant stream with Martin bucking and straining against his bonds. Then it was over. I put a lotion on his poor bruised bottom, un did his bonds and left him to get up in his own time.
His last chore was to sweep up the twigs that had flown off the birches and put them in the dustbin. I waited for him in the bedroom until he had finished. When he came in I got off the bed and kissed him, wrapping him in my arms and crying with him. I told him I had not wanted to thrash him so severely but he surely realised that he had to be punished. Then we fell on the bed, I raised my skirt and took off my knickers and we had the most wonderful love-making session.
I didn’t bother to remind him that he still had a dozen to come. Consistency, you see.
Hope this helps you.
Love,
Veronica

                                                                                    Sent in by Smartin' Martin

Formidable Darkness 

A cloud fell across the lowered sun, Amber looked at the clock on her dashboard, she was already ten minutes late and had still got another thirty to go, the cars were stationary and she had no way of judging how long they would remain that way. Crawl, stop, crawl, stop, it was driving her insane or was that just the thought of what was to come…. The last time she had been late she’d had trouble sitting for a week and that was only ten minutes.  Nick was not a mean tempered man but liked things and people to run like clockwork, he was an immaculately turned out man, who demanded respect.

At 7.45pm Amber turned into the drive, she was slightly apprehensive and a little moist between he legs but still she tried to come up with some plausible excuse, even though she knew it to be fruitless and would only make matters worse. Her sense of preserving her posterior, getting the better of her judgement.  She walked into the hallway, putting her briefcase down near the hall table, she sighed thinking at least it was the weekend.  She glanced around, all was quiet, no noise from the kitchen, no T.V, no radio, thus leading her to the conclusion she was first home.  She headed towards the stairs intent upon showering, changing into something a little less constricting and then making something nice to eat.  Her foot touched the bottom step when a voice haltered her, “COME IN HERE!” the voice boomed from the study, Shit! She thought her mind racing with excuses, apologies, anything. 

She pushed open the door, “Hi, Nick I didn’t think you were home yet, I’m sorry I’m late you wouldn’t believe the traffic, I have been sat in it for ages and on top of that I have had a really crap day at work, I’m tired and need a shower, I’ll get us something to eat when I have changed,” she was babbling, he knew it, she knew it.  “SHUT UP!” he shouted, at that point Amber knew it was useless, her bottom cheeks clenched, a wet feeling between her legs began to throb.

“I don’t want your excuses or apologies, you were warned last time, I really do not like repeating myself, as well you know! Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, Amber!” The emphasis on her name made her shudder inside.  “But, I’mmm sorry, I can’t help it if the…” “I see it’s the hard way then,” he calmly spoke, “but Nick !..” “You just don’t learn do you, now come over here!” Amber walked slowly toward him, he moved round from behind the desk and kissed her lightly on her lips then whispered “I love you but you have brought this on yourself!” Amber wanted to hug him, apologise to him, kiss him but for her to make any move would be futile.  He put his hand on her lower back and pushed her down over the desk, her heart was racing, her breathing fast. “Right, it’s twenty five for being late, a further twenty for trying to make excuses, another twenty for interrupting and if you flinch, try to move at all, that will carry an extra thirty, do you understand?”  Amber nodded her agreement, “What do we say?” he snarled, “Yyyesss, SSir,” she replied her voice slightly quivering. 

He went to the cupboard in the corner and unlocked it, there hanging from specially made hooks was an array of paddles, whips, tawses, straps and canes. Amber knew from experience which ones hurt the most and prayed he would be lenient with her, he pondered a while then chose the leather paddle.  He walked back toward her purpose in his step.  Behind her, she tensed; he lifted her skirt, THHWAACCCKK! She jumped slightly, he noticed but said nothing the first was always the hardest to accept, TTTHWWACK! THHHWACK! THHHWACK! She held onto the other side of the desk and received a further thirty-one smacks, her inner thighs were now wet and throbbing for alleviation.  He stopped, she stayed still and quiet, inside she wanted to cry out, she wanted to rub her tender rump and release the tension in her womanhood, he turned toward the cupboard Amber saw her chance and moved her hand to rub, of course Nick noticed , “Well, my love that’s another thirty for that and the flinch earlier!” “Bbbuutt…Nick..” “and another ten!” he sniped back.  Amber went quiet, tears seeped silently from her eyes and he came back with the red leather tawse with two thick throngs at the end.  He came round the back of her and stroked her reddened bottom.  TTTHHHWAACKCK! “Owwww!” TTHHWAACCKK! “Owwwcccchhhh!” TTTHHWWWACCK! “eeeoooowww…o.o.o.!” He dealt twenty in succession, slowed and landed another ten, she was now crying openly, “I think you will be a little less tardy in future but I haven’t finished yet!” he returned to the cupboard and chose a rattan cane.  Amber knew this stung like hell but didn’t dare say a word, she bit down on her lip and tried to push her throbbing womanhood against the desk, he moved round her side and with precision SSSWWISSSH! The cane hit target, he stepped back to admire the line that appeared, whilst giving the stroke time to sink in, Amber drew in her breath.  He dealt another twenty strokes, leaving a short space between each one so that Amber felt the most of them, she was fidgeting, squirming and screaming now but knew he hadn’t finished, mentally she had lost count.

“Stand Up! pull your pants up” he said calmly.  Amber rose unsteadily, he held her in his arms then moved her round with him, where he sat in his leather chair, “Over!” he said as matter of factly, she bent over his lap, he pulled up her skirt and pulled her panties down to her knees, viewing the red weal marked bottom, “Nnnot bare, Nick, pplleasse!” she pleaded with him, her wetness now more apparent against his knee.  SSSMMACKK! She squirmed on his knee, her red bottom aflame, SSSMMAACCCKK!! “Owww…owww!” SSSMMACKK! “Ooo…O.O.O!” “How many, Amber?” he asked.  Crying and with a shaky voice she replied “ninety,” Sniff, “WRONG!” SSSMMAACCK!  SMMACCKK! “eeooww!”  SSSSMMMMAAACCCKK!  “O..O ..O ooowwwccchh!”   A further twenty five hit her burning cheeks, he stopped as suddenly, helped her up and led her to the couch where he laid her face down over the arm, she fidgeted nervously, wiping the tears from her eyes, her panties fell to the floor, could she take anymore, her bottom was on fire, her clit throbbed, Nick moved round the back of her and stroked her bottom, she flinched at his touch but then pushed herself against it gaining a light relief.  He moved round and lifted her slightly then sat down, letting her lay on him, all the time he rubbed her back, she clung to him, sobbing and breathing heavily.  Both knew what would transpire later. 

elyse

No Lines!!!

 Amanda was a stunning 40 year old redhead, with a figure and bottom to die for, and a senior manager in the leisure industry. In her job she was used to being dominant but at home it was a different story, where her partner took control of her, but she loved it

She could twist Trevor around her little finger but push him too far and a spanking and the cane came into her life. When she was really naughty she was taken to a Mistress to be punished severely.

She had been visiting a Mistress for many years but she had retired to start a family, so Trevor had to find a new Mistress to punish Amanda on a regular basis

A young lady was found on the net who sounded ideal, young, slim but very dominant

Amanda had been very rude and disruptive so Trevor informed her that on the following Tuesday she was to report to her new Mistress, and that she would have to email the Mistress to confess her sins

Amanda did this and was told to write 200 lines ' I must learn to be obedient at all times to my Mistress and my Master' Amanda was also told to bring with her school uniform, but with stockings and not socks

The day of the appointment arrived and Amanda was dropped off at the address of her new Mistress by Trevor. She knocked softly on the door and was met by a stunning 29 year old blonde, slim, tall, with very long legs, and dressed in her business suit.

Amanda was shown into the lounge was offered a drink, and after a brief chat she was asked for her homework. Amanda informed the Mistress 'that she did not do homework'. The Mistress remained calm but told Amanda to stand up and to come over to the side of the Mistress's chair. Her trousers were taken down and she stood for ages before she was bent over the Mistress's knee. Her pants were lowered and she was then hand spanked for several minutes. Amanda can take hand spankings all day, so this was not a problem. From nowhere a slipper was produced, and she received 24 strokes. She was then put into a corner, hands on head, for ten minutes to think about her caning which she was about to receive

Eventually the mistress took Amanda to her study and told her to undress and put on her school uniform. The Mistress watched her every move and adjusted the clothing until she was completely satisfied

Amanda  was then told to touch her toes and her pants were lowered to her ankles. Amanda then watched the Mistress go to the cupboard and carefully select the senior cane, swishing it through the air several times, She then came back to Amanda knelt down in front of her and showed her the cane, making her kiss it. The Mistress kissed Amanda on the lips and then took her position behind her. She tapped Amanda bottom twice and then brought down the cane. It bit into Amanda's bottom and  the first welt appeared, perfectly placed on both cheeks. Five more strokes followed before she was told to stand in the corner hands on her head. The Mistress left the room.

Amanda thought it was over but she then heard the foot steps of her Mistress returning. Her Mistress had removed her suit and stood in her bra, pants, suspender belt, stockings and very high heeled shoes. She was next bent over the bench, her hands and legs tied, and she received 24 more strokes of the cane, laid on hard and accurately covering all of her bottom. Her bottom was sore, tender and covered in welts, and she knew she had found her perfect Mistress

Amanda dressed and went back to the lounge for another drink and a chat. As Amanda rose to leave she was told to take down her trousers again, and thinking the Mistress was just checking on her bottom she slowly eased her trousers down over her very sore bottom. The Mistress then put her back over her knee and lowered her pants, and started to hand spank her tender bottom over the cane marks. This really did get Amanda squirming and was to remind Amanda of her Mistress on her drive home

Trevor picked Amanda up for the drive home knowing that she would return in the very near future.

T Meakin

SISTER SUPERIOR
 “Oh don’t be such a cry baby William. You know tears won’t save you. I think we‘ll have those pants down now. Stand up, put your hands on your head”. My 21year old step- brother did exactly as he was told. I laid the cane on the table beside me, walked smartly forward and yanked his underpants down all the way to hisankles. “Oh no please Mary, please not on the bare, “ he pleaded and stifled back the tears. Six tramlines, each one placed just below the other, were testimony to my accuracy with the cane. They do say practice makes perfect and my four years as a teacher at the small, strict, traditional boys’ private school had offered many opportunities to perfect my caning technique. Nor was William any stranger to being disciplined by me. In the ten months since I agreed to discipline him, William reported to me once a fortnight. I knew he feared the cane more than any other implement, so, regardless of whether, like today I administered a preliminary spanking, for William it was always the cane.

“Back over the desk, please William. The six you just received was for your excessive drinking. I am going to give you eight more, this time on your bare bottom for continually missing lectures. I want you to count each stroke aloud. At the end of your punishment you will thank me in the usual manner. Further over the desk,please I want you properly presented for the remainder of your punishment.”

 I collected the cane from the table and took up my position behind and slightly to the right. Being left handed had never been a drawback to me when there was a naughty boy awaiting my discipline.

 I had developed into a natural at administering corporal punishment and even though still only 26 and only practising the art of discipline for four short years I could modestly admit to being a skilled disciplinarian. Since I was 15 I had witnessed many of William’s punishments. Mostly these were spankings on his bare bottom with the slipper or hairbrush, but for more serious things his mother used a crook handled rattan cane she kept hanging behind her bedroom door when not in use.  I was always delighted when I was asked to assist in William’s punishments- fetch the cane from the bedroom or help take his trousers and pants down.

I went off to college at 18, when William was 13 and since then only rarely saw him “called to account” in the drawing room. I went from college to my first teaching job and soon I was calmly dispensing some very sore bottoms to my class of 13 and 14 year olds. William came to the same town when he was 20 to go to college and started to drink heavily, gamble and skip lectures. He was fast getting out of control and when he had spend all his money came to me in desperation. I was all ready to give him a lecture on his behaviour when he confided to me that he missed the discipline he was used to at home. If that admission surprised me, I was taken aback when he asked me if I would discipline him. “Of course I will but you must accept without question whatever punishment I decide” I told him, adding “ tomorrow, I am going to cane you as you fully deserve. Report to me at seven o’clock and don’t dare be late.”  He arrived in plenty of time and I showed him into the drawing room. That just about brings us up to date and this spring evening in 1971. “You have another 12 strokes to come. First one coming up” I said and raised the cane high behind my left shoulder.    

By Rory

DEADLINES
“Ah Kirsty, how nice to see you. Do come in please” She enters Sirs office nervously, never sure what fate might have in store for her. “Do have a seat”. She smoothes the seat of her pinstripe trouser suit and eases herself down with a pale watery expectant smile. “You will recall the recent mix up over our clients’ artwork. I had cause to discipline you for the indiscretion and even made you phone Jeremy to apologise. Well he has kept his word and continued with the campaign despite the mix up. He does however have some misgivings. Jeremy is very sharp and perceptive. He has a keen eye for detail – and I’m afraid an even keener ear. He rather doubts the sincerity of your apology over the phone. He seems to think you were enjoying yourself!” Kirsty blushes in embarrassment at the memory. Sir has a wicked grin and savours her obvious discomfort. The things a girl has to do to keep up her promotion prospects. Well actually she was enjoying herself – immensely. The feeling of surrender and domination stirred horny little demons inside her, but it would never do to admit to Sir! “If only we had a WebCam then Jeremy would have seen for himself how much you were enjoying yourself! Well I’m afraid Kirsty that the man is a bit of an old fashioned stickler. He told me in no uncertain terms that if it had been one his staff she would have a dozen of his cane or been shown the door. He has given me an ultimatum – he will only continue with the campaign next week if I do the same – and he wants to hear it for himself on the speaker!”

The colour drains from her. She gasps and covers her mouth in astonishment ( and wicked anticipation) . “But Sir, do I have to ?” She knows the answer from his stern face . “The reputation of this company depends on it Kirsty. And besides it would not be the first time I have had to give you traditional school discipline. The publication deadline for the campaign is 16.00. It’s now 15.00. I’m waiting for your decision Kirsty”. She gets up unsteadily with a sultry scowl on her face. Sirs eyes lead her to the end of the meeting desk. She bends over slowly , easing her alluring feminine curves down for his attention. She stretches over and grasps the edge for support. Her bottom cheeks are taught and inviting. Sir walks over to his cupboard . She glances over end sees his whippy rattan hanging . He picks it up and flexes it - so powerful, so supple. Her pulse races . She hears the stiff creak and firm step of his hard soled English welted leather shoes on the polished wood tiles. He places the handset in front of her. He walks behind her. She hears his heels click. She feels the cane rest softly across the swell of her cheeks and trace a line. Thanks heavens she is allowed to keep her trousers on. The tight cut of her sexy thongs accentuates the beauty of her bottom but offer her no protection.. The cane gently taps the inside of her thighs. “Legs a little further apart Kirsty” She obliges “Thank you” He slides the cane vertically in the tight crease between her buttocks. Up and down.. Its teasing and taunting touch arouses her. She feels the cane once again across the swell of her upturned peaches. Her heart is thumping. Anticipation is everything. He taps her bottom sharply. It tingles. “Dial the number Kirsty”

She nervously does as she is told, her right hand shaking as she pushes the buttons on the handset. “H Hello Jeremy, its Kirsty er from UK Media Today….about your campaign this week.” …. “And what campaign might that be Kirsty ? No decision has been made yet - that rather depends on you. What have you got to say for yourself?” Before she can think of a reply, Sirs rattan whips crisply across her bottom, tracing a hot searing line…. SWISH! “Aaaaaggghhhhhh” an involuntary shriek as her hands fly back to sooth the burning pain. “What was that Kirsty” bellows the voice on the loudspeaker “I didn’t quite hear you!” SWISH ! the waspy rattan bites the swell of her cheeks low , deep into the soft gluteal underfold. “YEEEEOWWW” a most unladylike howl echoes round the study. “I didn’t hear you either Kirsty” Sir pipes in. SWISH ! No 3 is placed expertly across the centre of her quivering globes. “OOOOOO three t, thank you sir!” “Good to see you have some manners Kirsty” comes the satisfied tone of Jeremy on the speaker. Not quite so enjoyable for you today is it young lady!” SWISH the metronome of Sirs cane places another crisp hot stinger. SWISH “Five thank you sir” SWISH “S s six th th thank you s SIR” She shouts and sobs in indignation at the assault to her posterior. “Drop your trousers, Kirsty…… now please, we don’t have all day… there are deadlines in the business as well as tramlines” . She thrusts her punished bottom upwards as her hands unclip her pinstripe slacks and ease them over her hot cheeks. Kirsty’s bottom is a pure delight to punish Sir reflects to himself, admiring the six hot stripes . Her squeezes her hot flesh and massages her. It hurts but it feels so, so good. She gives an anguished moan Sir can sense and smell the sweetness of her arousal, and the hard erection in his well tailored suite belies his intentions . “Six more to come my sweet. Our client is waiting! He demands nothing less than an exemplary caning” . “Indeed I do” confirms the speaker

The cane taps pensively across her quivering cheeks, sending a gentle sting into her loins before a 7th searing hot kiss takes her breath away SWISH! “YeeeAHHHHHH” Kirsty howls as the numbness quickly turns to hot burning pain. “It hurts!” “Its meant to hurt lady.That’s the whole point of it as a salutary experience! “ replies Sirs deep masterful tone. The white line throbs crimson. She is stoic and taking her punishment well. SWISH! No 8 cuts less than ½ an inch below. The pain is getting through. She begins to sob. Contrite tears of remorse that run down her face and drop onto the polished floor. Jeremy can hear the effect that the punishment is having. “Only four more . You’ll be getting artwork right in future I’m quite sure!”

Once more Sir massages the hot radiating cheeks to sooth and comfort her. He has no wish to be brutal. Kirsty is one of his best girls and has a bright future – if a little rosy from time to time. The next 3 cuts are more gentle, making the tingling burn more sexy for her. She counts the strokes dutifully and thanks him. The sobbing has subsided and she can feel a hot glow. She smiles – but just a little too soon. Jeremy is keen to end on a high note. She feels her thongs being pulled down . She is horny and expectantly juicy . Number 12 whistles like a hornet and cuts venomously into her orbs. Kirsty gives a high pitched shriek like a scalded pussy stamping her feet in anger. “TWELVE THANK YOU SIR!” she utters defiantly. “And thank you too Kirsty. I have given the order for this weeks campaign to be set. I am satisfied that you have learnt your lesson and that you will remember who pays for your salary. It is a pleasure to do business with you” The speaker goes dead, and Sir clicks it off. His firm hands are already rubbing soft soothing coldcream into her hot scalded buttocks, his fingers working lower , up and down, up and down.

“ And think Kirsty, with figures like that you’ll be on maximum bonus too for your efforts, and very well earned if I may say so. In fact I’m sure the Board will agree to a one off lump sum for hitting 6 months in suceession” …..Satisfied ships that pass in the night. “Please girl, pull up your panties, adjust your dress and go and put some stick around the office” Sir smiles coyly. “ But of course Sir… may I borrow your rattan?” “Absolutely Kirsty, we run a tight ship around here… but you know that!”
by Lord Benbow

Julie and I had finally got around to clearing out our loft, we had more time to do those jobs nowadays particularly since we had retired. Not that either of are at retirement age but I had been made redundant when the school at which I had been headmaster had finally closed its doors for the last time. It must have been 10 or more years since we were up in the loft together Julie was at one side and me at the other.

Good God I heard her say, it’s a long time since I have seen these and she smiled. I looked round and there was Julie with a bundle of school canes in her hand. I had stopped using the canes when CP was finally banished in the school, but I did know that Julie had used them since then on our daughters, who were now away from home.

I can still here that whistle and thwack she said as you laid them on some lads poor backside, and with that she gave one of them a good swish through the air. You did your fair share of whacking I said I seem to remember looking at her; I can still remember Jane or Lynne as they came out of the study holding the bottoms with tears running down their faces. This talk was getting me slightly aroused particularly when I saw my lovely wife with that thin swishy cane in her hand, I always thought she caned a lot harder than me. It never did them any harm did it? She said, and look at them now two very fine young women themselves. Did you always roll up your sleeve before you caned them I asked, How do you know I rolled up my sleeve was her quick response. I did as a matter of fact yes, it was part of my preparation. I saw you once, the time you caned Lynne for staying out late, you really laid it on hard that time. I remember that but where were you, you were supposed to be in school.?

The more we chatted about old times and the canings she gave to the girls and the ones I dished out to the 4th form boys got me more aroused and her too I think. If I had known that you were listening she said I would have had you in that study too, and with your pants down. What would the girls have said then and your boys for that matter if they knew that you had just got a good beating from me. Oh if only I said without thinking.

What did you say she said with a quizzing look on her face, I said “if only” what do you mean that………………..she went quiet. Yes some times I just wished that…………….Oh I see she said. ……. But why didn’t you ever let on, it might have spiced up our sex life. Do you mean that if I had asked you to er………..you would have done.
Take you to the study you mean , - yes I most certainly would have, god knows there were times when you deserved it , Then she said I never asked you this but did you ever watch me when I caned the girls? “er once or twice “I replied Did it excite you? Of course it did” I said then tell me were you beaten at school, were you not Yes of course I said. Then she said but you went to mixed school didn’t you, yes I said…….. and weren’t there lady teachers there. She could see by now that this was certainly having an effect on me. So I said.

Michael tell me something she said, when I caned the girls did you ever wish it was you? yes er maybe er sometimes I said, I knew when you were going to cane one of them because you always used to say will the study be free tomorrow darling and you had a glint in your eye.

Then she said Michael, does the thought of being caned by a woman excite you now? I just replied that the thought of being caned by one particular woman excited me very much………. She then thought for a while and said “It will hurt you know, I never went easy on the girls when they deserved it and I wouldn’t now.. I said something about knowing how much it hurt, I had seen enough of the boys in tears to confirm that. Then she said with a glint in her eye “Darling is the study free tomorrow? I replied er actually I don’t think it is but it is free tonight.

She quickly replied “ then you had better get yourself down there if you know what is good for you. I was very flushed by this time and said nothing further. I went down from the loft into the hall, the study was facing me, what should I do.? If I let this moment go it might not come again. Was she joking with me? Or did she mean it?

I had not had the cane for some 30 years, I recalled the last time it was on the day I finished school. I soon came back to reality when I heard Julie climbing down from the loft. I glanced up and just saw her legs on the ladder. She had the cane in her hand as she climbed down. It was fairly long and thin and a dark yellow colour. I had to make a decision, I just opened the door to the study and went in still quite confused. It is a fairly spacious study, and although I been in there hundreds of times before it looked different. There was the desk on one wall and the old arm chair with its thick padded leather arm opposite. I knew I wanted this to happen and just stood looking around. If felt like ages but probably only about 10 or 15 minutes, I hear Julie’s footsteps coming down the hall. I saw the door handle turn and she came in. She still had that cane in her hand. She had changed her clothes now and had a nice navy skirt on which came to just about her knee level. She also had a white blouse which made her look ravishing

Look Michael she said “ I have not done this for a very long time, and certainly not to a man are you sure you want to go through with it? I swallowed hard and said that I had dreamed of such an event for a long time, but dare not say anything. She asked me why I had not confided in her and I told her it just never happened, and in any case how could I with the girls around. I could she, she was a little excited too and she told me that she had missed caning the girls and had often thought what it would be like to have had one of my boys bending over for a good beating. All the time we spoke she tapped the cane at her side.

It was then that her tone changed, Well Michael you know why you are here don’t you.? I just nodded then I felt so venerable at that moment. Your behaviour has been appalling recently boy and I have decided to cane you. She looked so beautiful as she said those words at that moment I really wanted her to cane me and hard too. I must have been in some state of make believe but soon came to when she said “please remove your trousers” I just said something like “ But Julie I…. she just said “get them down lad” I undid by belt and let my trousers drop to the floor. She then told me to bend over the leather padded arm of the chair, I did as she said and felt by bottom quite high up as my head went down. I could see her from a sideways glance, she tapped the cane into her left hand it quivered like jelly as she did. Then she said “Michael do you want me to do this properly” I asked her if she thought I deserved it and she replied that I most certainly did. . I then asked her how many I was to get and she replied that she always gave the girls the traditional six of the best but since I was a lot older and hopefully tougher I would get twelve.

My mind went on my upturned bottom which was still covered with my boxer shorts somehow I wanted it on the bare but dare not say anything. I did not need to she came towards me and put both hands inside the waste band and pulled hem down to my knees.

Right Michael she said I intend to cane you hard and I don’t want to hear a word till I have finished do you understand? With that I felt her tap the cane on my bare bottom I just buried my head in the soft leather of the chair.

I felt the cane tap tap tap and then a pause and a whistle as it came through the air. I felt it land with a huge Thhhwwwaaaccckkkkkkkkkkk right in the middle of my bottom. At first I felt nothing and then the sudden pain was like a thousand bees sting me at once, but I managed to stay still.

I then heard her say “you bad boy you deserve this and Thhhhhwwwwaaacccckkkkkkk

I could smell her perfume as she caned me, my thoughts went to the girls and I wondered if she had caned them as hard Thhhhhhwwwwaaaacccckkkkk the next one brought my senses back. She then gave me 2 together and a bit lower down.

I cant say I was enjoying this it was hurting like hell, but I knew I had to take it, infact the feeling I had was that I wanted it harder. I loved her so much I wanted her to really cane me. I glanced round and saw her blouse had come out of her skirt as she swished another one down she was enjoying it. She kept saying words like I will teach you my lad and then another two came down together.Thhhhhhwwwwwwaaaaackkk
Thhhhhhhhwwwwwaaaccccckkk. I had lost count and maybe she had, her face was red as she said one more. I don’t know if I was disappointed or not but anyway It was the last one, it hurt just as much as the first, but I had managed to stay in position.

When I finally got up she was panting, she asked me if I had enjoyed it. I just said oh yes did you and with that we fell into each others arms. It was not the last time she caned me but this story is already too long, maybe another time.

by The Yorkshireman

Getting the Cane
A personal memoir

Like all pupils at a Public School one expected sooner or later to be caned, one dreaded the moment only knowing by rumour and ear what it would be like. Public caning was not practiced very often.

I was introduced to the cane in the late 1050's when our Form Master lost it and decided to cane the whole class. I remember as if it was yesterday when it came to my turn to bend over and touch my tows. The surprise that it didn't hurt very much, that was untill about 20 seconds later when I was back at my desk, I was aware of the sudden appearance of an erection in my trousers and a sharp pain throbbing from my bottom up my spine, it was not unpleasant but it did hurt!

Like the others at break I went to the lavatory to look at the damage, I could feel the lump of the single stripe and could just see the classic twin tracks of deep red with white in between, by tea time they would be dark blue as the bruise developed. Later just grinding my buttocks into the desk seat where the bruise was would produce an erection.

The next time was memorable if only for the occasion, It was in gym by our second gym master a Turk who was a brute and strong, the pain was much greater the single stroke having been laid on especially hard through only my shorts and with great accuracy, the "mark" took five weeks to go away.

The next time was rather more serious. Two of us were in trouble and told by the master a Physics Master called Hancock (I'll never forget him) to report to the First Aid Room which doubled as an execution chamber! WE knew we were going to be caned and Hancock's reputation went before him! He arrived carrying the standard senior school can between 3/8" & 1./2" thick straight and made from rattan cane. The other boy (David Brett) went in first and after some talking a brief silence and then the whistle of the cane and the "thwack as it hit the target" Repeated four times! David came out looking white but walking! Then it was my turn, "bend down" some fumbling as he hitched up my jacket and felt to ensure I hadn't put on any padding like extra pants or gym shorts, he pulled up my shirt tail which I had carefully pulled right down. "Four and don't move!" Then swish crack thump as the first stroke hit home, not too bad, but I spoke too soon at about ten second intervals, and by the time he'd laid on the fourth my bottom was really thumping! The usual erection was by now showing.

He then left the room with me and told us both to report to the matron after school.

I went straight after teas and Matron was expecting me, she was a very neat 20 year old assistant matron.
She made me take off my trousers and lay down on the couch in the room, she rubbed in some cream and told me to turn over. Why? I turned over and there she was naked. She pounced on me and took me into her very quickly and went at it, demanding that I then come on top of her, the ejaculation was a blessed relief, and it's no wonder that I got a taste for being caned! Which in turn lent me to get taste for being caned as an adult.
So here are a few facts about it and what to use and how to do it. This is probably the implement most associated with Corporal Punishment. There is something very emotive about this traditional, English disciplinary tool. Part of the cane’s mysticism is the ritual and theatre associated with its application which is as much about psychological torment and fear as it is the actual beating. Making the condemned wait, sometimes hours or days in anticipation. The flexing of the rod as a scolding takes place. Then, finally, the rite itself: having the reprobate bent over a desk, or a chair, or perhaps touching their toes. Traditionally administered in half dozen batches ominously referred to as ‘six of the best’. Caning is an art that involves more than the technical ability to apply an accurate stroke.. The best types of cane to use are those that come from the climbing palm or rattan family as these have a flexible stem. There are enormous varieties of rattans, with innumerable differing qualities. The most popular varieties for making a punishment cane are Kooboo, Dragon, Palambang and Malacca. No two canes are ever identical, as they are natural products, grown, not manufactured. There are an endless variety of rattans. Thickness, flexibility, curvature, colouring and surface finish all vary. Often canes are named and graded by their increased length and thickness: Junior Cane 8mm diameter, Senior Cane 10mm and Reformatory Cane 12mm plus. Lengths usually range from 30in to 36in. Most standard canes are made from Kooboo. For more serious punishments try a Dragon cane as the rattan is denser and slightly stiffer than Kooboo. It also has a very smooth surface which helps it fly through the air faster. Another heavier implement is the ferrule originally a Victorian walking cane made from the very thick and heavy rattan Malacca. I have come across so-called ‘fibre-glass’ canes and ‘dressage or show’ canes (canes covered with leather), which are not really canes at all, both are very severe implements that I would suggest only advanced players consider using. Probably the fiercest canes are those used for Singapore judicial punishments, made from stripped manner rattan they are approximately 15mm thick and 50 inches long. Crook or Straight HandleSo why do canes have crook handles? I have to say I’m not exactly sure, as I have found lots of different explanations. One being that originally walkingcanes were used to beat people with so the crook handle is just a remnant of this. I have also read that the crook was used to stop the cane slipping out of the hands during a vigorous thrashing. The crook was also used to hang the cane up so it would be a constant reminder to errant young children. Well the crook handle is certainly associated with the school cane. I don’t think the handle makes much of a difference to the cane, many people just have a personal preference. Some straight canes have some kind of added handle, which does make them easier to use. Short or long & thick or thin Canes come in a huge variety of lengths and thickness. I would suggest that a beginner uses a short, lightweight cane. The longer the cane the more swing, the greater the arc, equaling a more painful stroke. Remember the longer the cane the more difficult it is to control. The weight of the cane changes the sensation and intensity of the stroke. The thinner the cane the more ‘stingy’ and biting it feels. While thicker canes are heavier, more ‘thumpy’ and tend to bruise the skin. With more weight they penetrate more deeply. Caning Techniques Caning is probably one of the most revered of the disciplinary arts taking some time to perfect. A perfect cane stroke needs a minimum amount of effort, you don’t have to throw your whole body into it. In fact the greatest accuracy is achieved with the minimum variation of movement. This is probably one of the reasons as to why the cane is such a favored disciplinary tool. The stature and strength of the disciplinarian is immaterial as it is one’s technique that is all-important (the cane is certainly a great equalizer for women). always use full force blows you'll only fluff it if you "pull" the stroke!. There are two different techniques to caning someone. Firstly with a ‘wrist only’ movement and secondly, with an ‘arm and wrist’ movement. I would suggest that beginners (and when caning in an area with limited space/height) should always use the wrist movement. It is also the stroke I prefer to use as it has a greater degree of accuracy. Hold the cane in your hand, tuck your elbow into your body and using only your lower arm, use a fast wrist motion to flick the cane at the target. If you cane without moving your wrist you cannot get any speed into the motion of the stroke or that lovely ‘swish’ noise, as you are not really using the flexibility of the cane. The ‘arm and wrist’ movement involves lifting up and bringing down your arm, putting the force of your shoulder behind the stroke, finishing the stroke with the wrist movement. The arm can move either up or out for this motion. Make sure you practice the movement and measure the stroke lots of times before beginning the punishment because with this technique it is easy to be inaccurate. If you have never caned someone before try holding the cane about a third of the way in, this makes it shorter, less flexible and easier to control. As you gain confidence move your hand out until eventually you are holding it at the end. After striking the bottom you can either follow through with a stroke that leaves the cane firmly planted on the buttocks or allow the cane to bounce back and lift away from the area. Following through will make the stroke more painful and ‘thumpy’, this is because you are passing on all the kinetic energy of the stroke into the buttocks. While lifting off does not dump as much energy onto the area.
Where should you aim for?
A proper cane stroke is really best suited for use on the fleshy buttocks. It can be used on other parts of the body but I suggest using a very short lightweight cane, with a building tapping motion. I would suggest that beginners aim to keep the tip of the cane in the middle of the furthest cheek. Once you are more confident keep the tip about two inches in from the outer edge of the bottom. ) Beware of over-shooting the target. Often when caning you can measure the stroke but will then over shoot this mark when putting your power behind the stroke. The highest cut should be just below the cleft of the buttocks and the lowest just along the crease where the bottom meets the legs. One of the main mistakes that people make when using a cane is to deliver the strokes all on the same spot. There should be a succession of cane stripes up and down the entire buttocks. I love to see a caned bottom with six evenly placed lines across it each about an inch apart. So try to cane the entire bottom, don’t just hope to hit anywhere. Practice high and low shots. Even experienced players can miss-hit sometimes but remember - if you are not that experienced start with medium or light strokes so that they will not cause too much damage if you do miss. I think that where you stand in relation to the recipient while administrating the caning is one of the most important factors. Where you stand determines the angle the cane will hit the bottom. If you are too forward or behind the target the angle will be too great and result in one buttock receiving a heavy punishment and the other side none at all. Use the lines you are leaving on the bottom as a guide to how well you are balancing the strokes. The perfect stroke lands flat, that is parallel to the buttocks just before it lands. Thereby transferring the stroke’s power equally onto each cheek. Before the prevalence of the cane the most popular implement was of course the birch. However the cane fitted in well with the Victorian ideals of modesty as it could be easily used over the clothes with very little loss of intensity. So the cane is one of the few implements that can be particularly effective over clothes. Canings over tight skirts, jeans, shorts and thick panties are all popular. If you want to indulge in a heavy caning session but don’t want to be marked some practitioners recommend wearing layers of thick knickers or laying a folded wet towel over the buttocks. It will prevent marks, yet still allows much of the intensity of the punishment to come through. These are also useful for a dominant that wants to really thrash away at their partner. Another way to dish out a punishment of a half dozen strokes is that of the ‘Five-Barred Gate’, a ‘six-of-the-best’ with one very important, singular variation - the sixth cane stroke is delivered at a roughly 45° angle slicing diagonally across the previous five strokes. Its purpose is to ‘link’ the weal’s into what appears to be, as you may have guessed, a ‘gate.’ That last cane stroke is, as is traditional, the hardest, and “opens up” the previously inflicted welts.
Buying a cane
Look for a cane that is straight and smooth. It should either be cut so there are no knuckles or they should have been sanded down. It should be flexible - not too stiff and not uncontrollable. Never make the mistake of buying bamboo from a garden center as it is completely unsuitable for beating soft tissue as it is inflexible, it splits and splinters easily and can cut the skin. If you want to buy a truly authentic quality cane I would recommend ordering one from a specialist. Canes are made from natural reed with their own moisture content and so will stiffen and become brittle as they dry out over time. This will make them more prone to snap. The best place to keep your canes is in a nice humid bathroom to prevent them drying out. The worst place is near radiators and central heating, as this will considerably shorten their lifespan. If soiled, canes may be washed with soapy water (also alcohol or household bleach if blood is present). You can then wipe them with a wax based furniture polish that will help to preserve both the surface seal and their appearance. Periodically you can help your canes remain supple by standing them in a shallow bowl containing a wet sponge. To straighten out any kinks you can soak your canes in a bath of cold water overnight - be aware it will also straighten out crook handles so secure them with an elastic band first. (Note: you cannot soak oiled or varnished canes.) It is also possible to stand your canes in a light, non-viscous oil, such as Linseed oil for 24hrs, this will not only help keep your canes flexible but also add weight to them. The canes used at my school used to have lead shot glued into a hole drilled into the ends!
Rafish Rogue

MARCIE

I first met Marcie while we were both working for a major European Electronics Company. She was an International Tax Attorney which although sounding dull is far from I involved in the break up of a European Division we had acquired which involved decentralizing down to the different country levels

This joint project we had lasted about six months, involved visits to most European Countries and again because we both lived in the US quite a few weekends when, really for the sake of something to do we visited restaurants, theaters and cinemas mainly in London, Lyon and Munich. We built a nice friendship based on humor and mutually constructed but never mentioned agreement to avoid discussion about our personal lives. I like that kind of self discipline. Suffice to say she knew I was unmarried and that I knew she was married. That was it. The project came to an end and we went our separate ways but somewhere in there I think we both knew that while the project may have ended a bond continued to exist.

I did not see Marcie again for almost two years. I will never forget the night I did which was about 3 weeks before Christmas at the Red Lion Hotel at San Jose Ca. Airport. I cannot remember why I was staying there but no matter. I received a telephone call from out of the blue from Marcie who now happened to be living in Northern California she having tracked me down through various offices and friends. To cut a long story short Marcie invited herself over for a drink not without my encouragement because I felt a strange excitement at seeing her again.

I was surprised to see Marcie because obviously the travel and stress of the Job had aged her beyond her 34 or so years and the very obvious two or more glasses of wine was not having a positive effect on the overall impression. This was the first time I had ever seen Marcie on the verge of being out of control. We stayed in my room, got room service with some wine and light food and talked, which actually meant she talked. In summary, her and her husband had separated about six months earlier it also surprised me to find out that this was her second marriage. She had decided to change career and become controller ( essentially CFO) of a small start up US video games company in the Valley ( silicon that is). This would involve less travel, less stress and the opportunity to rebuild. Understand that this new job was a totally different thing in terms of scale and responsibility. Since the separation, she had been living with some basic simple soul who liked meat and potatoes and who had a couple of kids from some earlier relationship and was contemplating a third marriage! She was I think trying to somehow go back to these elusive basics we all like to think are there but in reality are not.

Marice while very bright and very quick had a slim attractive figure but was by no means Miss World. I think it was her perceptiveness and intuition I found attractive. Any events unfolded until we decided the events for the evening were over when I decided to call a Cab to take her home neither of us being in a fit state to drive. As is inevitable everyone who has been drinking things are absolutely sure they can handle the two exits down the Motor way but I have a real problem with all of that. While I was calling a Cab marcie tried to lean across me to shut of the phone which essentially positioned her over my knees. Then of course the inevitable happens with one rather firm smack on her skirt covered bottom a chain of events was initiated that rippled through not only my life, Marcie’s life, the life of her Mother ( wait till you read this part) and the life of her husband to be.

While the smack was not hard it was sufficient to draw attention. Marcie’s response was unbelievable and to a degree frightening. The best description I can use was that it was like a verbal and emotional orgasm. This orgasm erupted like a volcano her screaming “How did you know? How did you know?” over and over again in the midst of almost hysterical laughing and, at the same time crying. She kept repeating “How did you know? I am so happy that someone else knows”. As I said this almost violent outburst scared me mainly because I had never seen anything like it before. Finally, and I must admit with some relief, the taxi arrived to take Marcie home which made her calm down as we had to go through the reception area of the Hotel.

As I mentioned earlier this occurred just before Christmas which meant that I spent the next three weeks or so in Europe through until New Year. I called Marcie the next day to be sure she was OK when she seemed calm and lucid as usual telling me she was going to visit her Mother in Chicago over the Christmas vacation events of the previous evening not even being mentioned.

It was not until February when I got a call one afternoon from Marcie. She was asking after me and in essence would I like to go around that evening for a drink. I had no reason to refuse and showed up at her place around 21:00. After small talk Marcie being Marcie jumped straight in wanting to go back to what happened before Christmas. She was almost trying to apologize for her behavior that evening but I explained that was not necessary. She explained that for almost her whole 25 years of womanhood she had harbored and fantasized about being spanked but had never broached the subject with husbands, parents, friends associates or anyone. I think she expressed the feeling that those of us with this urge, have all had at various times of total and complete isolation. She explained that the relief she felt that at least one other person on the planet whom she totally trusted was now in a position to share her burden. Given the very honest and straightforward approach Marcie had adopted towards me which I held dear as a very great complement I admitted to Marcie that I had an interest in spanking explaining the limits to which I was prepared to go. I also explained that while no everyday event I had on occasions administered a sound spanking but only through mutual consent. Out of interest, I asked Marcie whether she had provoked the events of that evening before Christmas by accidentally falling over my lap. her reply was interesting in that she had suspected I might have an interest and without a doubt had it confirmed!
“So what now young lady?” I asked

“ Will you please give a proper spanking, you know, over your knee on my bottom”

Marcie, who was wearing a pair of expensive slacks which were not at all tight, took my hand and led me to the sofa pushed me down and laid her self flat across my lap, her legs stretched out to my right. This is always the critical part of any spanking-those first few moments when the female essentially commits herself to your trust. It is then one of the most pleasurable, subtle little moves occurs by using my left hand to very gently move Marcie maybe no more than one or two inches in nearer to my body. A very small, gentle but perceptible movement. Generally it is better to begin any spanking by simply resting ones hand on the bottom. What I think is really happening is a very slow construction of confidence building moves that allow escape or withdrawal at any time.

I began the spanking very gently and very slowly being sure to cover Marcies bottom uniformly. Marcie was moving very slightly and occasionally offering small moans and gasps. Over the next ten minutes I increased both the tempo and hardness but never to the point of any severity and at this stage leaving Marcie’s slacks in place. At this point Marcie was wriggling a little more and her legs occasionally kicked up a little.

Suddenly Marcie says “That's OK I am getting warm enough now, lets stop” which was fine by me since I did not want to go to fast or too far at this stage. Marcie go up looking like the Cat who had just eaten the Cream and rubbing her bottom. “ That was great, thank you so much” It was kind of weird but we both sensed it was time leave. We hugged, I left.

(More to Come)
The visits to Marcie’s home became a regular event with a predictable outcome. It was strange because we both new about but never discussed relationships with other people and even more amazing ( and this moves to the point where you might think I am delusion ) we both seemed to have a perfect sense of the whereabouts and status of each other. Every time I got back from Japan she seemed to know and further she never called when I had anything else on. This was a very peaceful and well centered period of my life as if I were living in an isolated space in total balance.

I can never figure out why I had no desire to make love to Marcie or even contemplate any normalization of the relationship. Marcie remarked to me once that she had thought maybe something longer term could come from this but concluded the very act of moving outside this very well defined and comfortable space would destroy the very thing holding us together. Her conclusion was probably correct.

Over that year I must have given Marcie more than a dozen spankings very gradually escalating the intensity and erotic content. Marcies inherent objectivity lead to many discussions around the subject. On one occasion she remarked that she liked the spankings even more the next day because she had to squirm a little when she sat down-she especially liked the idea when se had to fly the next day just thinking how many people on the plane knew that, less that twelve hours ago, she was over someone's knee being spanked! Is this a passive exhibitionist?

In general I spanked Marcie over her dress or her slacks but things were now escalating to where she would insist on showing me her reddened bottom before I, as usual, left to return home. One of the strangest requests was for my to give her a spanking over my knee as opposed to across my knee. Until then, all the spankings given had been with Marcie essentially face down over my knees. She had seen some photographs and wanted to receive a spanking literally with her toes touching the floor and her head almost to the floor on the other side specifically with her bottom raised to the highest position. This all sounds very easy until one realizes that one needs a straight back chair with no arms that everyone thinks they have until they look for one. On that evening we had to make a special trip to K-Mart ( Cheap American Junk Store but, of course open 24 hours for emergencies such as this) to get said chair. I recall it was about $12 and I’ll never know if the check out girl knew why we were getting it-probably not.

On return to the house I delivered the required spanking and noticed an entirely different response from Marcie in terms of clear excitement her wanting me to carry on much longer than normal and her appearing more emotionally drained that I had seen her since that very first night almost a year ago. That chair was put to a few more uses and I sometimes wonder if she still has it or even uses it with her current husband-arrogant I know but I think not. On this occasion we talked a little more than usual Marcie revealing to me that she kept a diary of everything that happened between her and I. One side of me said I did not like that very much but the other had so much trust that it did not matter. She also revealed that she had begun telling her Mother about the details of our friendship and in particular the spanking aspects which I guess should have bothered me but in an inverse way I regarded as flattery.

I gave my last spanking to Marcie in about November about one year before this regular relationship if that’s what it should be called started. Marcie and I rarely went out to dinner but on this occasion we dined at a decent restaurant ( by US standards) in Palo Alto. On this occasion Marcie was wearing a red skirt which was unusual because she was generally dressed very conservatively. After dinner we got back to her place got the K-Mart Chair from the garage when Marcie said ( I did not see anything in this at the time ) “Make this a really good one because I know you’ll be away for a while”. Marcie draped herself over my knee and on this one and only occasion I flipped up her skirt and to my surprise found she was wearing a Victoria’s Secret style garter belt and very brief panties. “ I knew you would know” I heard her say and proceeded with a very sound spanking first on her pants and them with them down. On this occasion the outcome was the usual-her thanks, this time rubbing her bottom and my inevitable disappearance into the night assuming, as do all stupid men, that nothing will ever change.

I went to Europe, came back and then spent six weeks in Arizona getting my IR. Over this time boys being boys with their airplanes and approach plates I obviously had far more important issues to consider. I got back to California and called Marcie.

(last part to come)

Very rarely have I ever been knocked back by a telephone call.. I got Marcie on the phone and after a couple of “how are you doing” like banalities she told me that she had got married just a couple of months ago. I was literally taken aback because it was arrogantly something that had never entered the sphere of my consideration. It was not disappointment, not envy it was just plain surprise. I told her I was happy for her and she suggested we got together next time I was in Palo Alto and that was kind of it.

During the summer I decided to meet Marcie for a drink up in Northern California ( I was now back living down South in LA). We met I remember at the Hyatt in Palo Alto it was good to see her again. The marriage was by all accounts going just fine and was to someone who had a couple of kids via a prior marriage-the norm in the US who had what I can best describe as a sensible (which probably means boring) job. This was the complete opposite of what I expected.

Apparently she had discussed the spanking issue with the new husband and the short relationship with me. He apparently had no interest in this but in Marcie’s mind this didn't matter because her interest and need had been satisfied. With typical objectivity she explained that the spankings she received from me were something she needed at that period in her life to be able to understand and eliminate these desires. I, to this day, do not understand this probably because I am not a women but on reflection I have seen both before and after similar positions.

She remarked and as I had said earlier, she had had almost nightly conversations with her mother who lived in Chicago about the details and feelings that surrounded our relationship. Her mother she said jokingly was a little disappointed that she no longer received weekly bulletins about Marcie’s various trips over my knee. Although, obviously, I had never met her mother I had an open invitation were I ever in Chicago to meet with Marcie’s mother for dinner or drinks to which end she gave me her mothers phone number which, at the time, I never thought I would use. We parted and have no further direct contact. I hope at her third attempt at marriage she found some peace. I still cherish this little encapsulated and insulated segment of my life. I think it had real value for both of us and even ended in a tidy and well balanced way with no recrimination or regret. I like tidy endings and the thought that, independent of time, this little thing can float around where ever these things float around for eternity.

In the autumn I did in fact have to go to Chicago for one night. I remember the weather being typical late summer thunder storms and a really bumpy approach into O’Hare. I got to the Hotel and was trying to decide whether to take up Marice’s offer to call her mother which I guess out of sheer bravado I decided to do. When her mother answered the phone I initially felt kind of stupid talking to someone I had never met who clearly knew some of my most intimate secrets about getting together for a drink as if we had known one another for years. Marcies mother, who’s name was Clare, was absolutely charming and said she had a feeling I would be calling soon ( like mother like daughter?) and we agreed to meet in the suburb where she lived at a small bar. I got in the rental car, drove through the pouring Chicago rain and hail for about 45 minutes out to an area just west of the airport. I really had not asked how I would identify Clare which began to worry me a little because I had no idea what she looked like except I suppose something like her daughter. This mental communication thing is really funny because immediately I walked in to this typical older style Chicago bar I spotted a tall, slim woman with slightly graying hair sitting alone. She obviously had had descriptions of me from Marcie and I guess the recognition was complete.

One of the things I like about New York, Boston and Chicago is that are not “ultra twee and fake” like most things in the western part of the US. Bars in particular tend to be much more like those in Europe with small booths and reduced lighting. I guess its obvious really because all these eastern cities were started mainly by people from Continental Europe and the weather is not really conducive to pot plants. Clare and I talked very easily without embarrassment about the weather, our pasts, Marcie’s marriage, the various trips we had made together as if she was totally familiar with every facet of our relationship not just in this final, for want of a better word, spanking phase but many years prior to that. Clare explained about the depth of feeling Marcie had for me and the gratitude (?) she felt adding that she, Clare, was slightly disappointed that we could not have gone further together because she felt it would have worked out. I was beginning to get to the point where the post mortem was going on to long and obviously leading to nothing except repetition. Interestingly the issues surrounding the whole kernel of the relationship never were mentioned up until that time causing me to wonder if in fact Marcie had shared this important detail with her mother or not. Again, it felt kind of strange sitting with an albeit attractive woman a good ten years my senior whom I had only just met discussing relationships as if we had known one another for years.

We were through to second or third drink when the bomb shell hit. Right out of the blue, Clare asked directly “ Why did you only on one occasion spank Marcie on her bare bottom?” I explained that that was the last time I spanked her daughter and further explained that in general I was cautious to take Marcies lead in these issues. It clearly was a family trait to be very direct with the questions and the issues. We talked a long while and obviously very quietly about spanking in general and Marcies fascination with the whole issue. I asked if Marcie had been spanked as a child to which the answer was no most certainly not neither by father nor mother. Had the issue even come up before the spanking relationship between Marcie and I begun again the answer being no. As usual with this topic there never seems to be a causal relationship between anything which is irritating and fascinating both at the same time. Maybe there does not have to be but I always get uncomfortable and off balance when I stop believing in cause and effect.

This is going to sound insensitive and wrong but although I liked Clare there was something I did not like about or feel comfortable about her living vicariously off what was a relationship between Marcie and I even though the relationship was over. I decided to push the issue with her which is not normally my style and asked her,” Have you ever had a proper spanking Clare?” her eyes went down to the table and in a sad kind of way she answered “No, but Marcie, when I talked to her yesterday, thought you might oblige” and then looked up with a slight smile. So, that's why I was here.

I suppose the one to many drinks, the rain outside, the thought of driving back to downtown Chicago and the invitation led to the inevitable return to Clares home. When we got inside she invited me to have another drink which I refused because of the drive back but she drank down, very quickly, a large vodka tonic. Like Marcie Clare dressed very conservatively wearing, I recall, a tight black skirt. She was clearly somewhat nervous about what was about to take place blurting out about the famous K-Mart chair saying that she had set up a similar arm less ( non K-Mart to be be fair) chair in the dining room. It was becoming increasingly obvious that this had all been set up in advance. I took Clare by the hand led her to the dining room sat down a pulled her across my knee. It was very very strange having a woman almost ten years older than I laying over my lap her head literally touching the floor and her toes touching on the other side. Clare was a lot taller than Marcie which forced her bottom higher. With Marcie I had always felt the need to move forward at a very slow and deliberate pace. I have no idea why but with Clare I sensed she needed punishment as opposed to release so I got down to it and administered probably the hardest spanking I have ever given in all these years. Clare kicked a lot and on a number of occasions tried to get of my lap. When I finally stopped Clare leapt off my lap grasping her bottom but, like daughter like mother thanked me profusely and disappeared to the bedroom. When she returned se was wearing a robe and was obviously more composed and wearing a slight smile. I asked how she felt and whether she had enjoyed her first spanking. “ Yes she said but it stings a lot more that I thought and I am very, very warm” she went on, “I don’t think I am going to be needing another one in a long while but I can now at least understand my daughter a little better” .

At that moment the phone rang, I recall it was about 23:00. It was Marcie on the phone clearly intrigued with how her Mothers meeting with me had gone. I heard Clare say that ( and I am sure this was for my benefit ) she had just had a tremendous spanking and that she would call her daughter back in a while since it was clear I had to get a cab back to the bar where I had left the car. We called a taxi ( isn't this where we came in?) I said my fond farewells and it was over.

The End
By A Marn