From the Top Shelf - Spanking Safari

Our friend and regular reader, Boru, sent me this story, and I was delighted with it. He describes a spanking that occurs in unusual circumstances. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

I run a small safari company, based in the North of Botswana, catering to those visitors wanting something a little different to the normal packaged safaris. Rather than booking them into lodges and going to all the popular places, I try to get away from the other tourists and go into wilder places with no infrastructure. There are still plenty of places that are not proclaimed reserves, have very few inhabitants and still have all the same wildlife as the popular areas. Of course, this means we bush camp, carrying all our supplies with us, to be self sufficient. There’s no water, sewage, or electricity where we go.

We carry all the water and food we need for about a week, as well as beer, wine, soft drinks and other similar to taste. This varies, of course, depending on the visitors, I stock up with their preferences.

Since we bush camp, we are not restricted in where we go, or where we camp. We do not create new tracks though, as we are conscious of the environment and track pollution is one of the worst kind inflicted on our beautiful wild country. It does allow us to pick and choose our camp sites, but that also entails extra responsibility in leaving them as wild and clean as we found them. It also means that we never have fences around our camp, so the wildlife is free to roam where it likes, making for some interesting night time visitors on occasion!

Every day is a game drive, even getting from one place to another, the wildlife is so abundant. We often encounter elephants on the road, even the main tar roads.

I have a few favourite places, of course and an understanding with the local chief in each place, where I can camp and where we will be quite alone. Over the years, we have always left our camps as they should be left, so mutual trust has been established over time. We dig our own latrines, each covering over with a light topping of sand ready for the next needy user. When we leave, we fill it in completely, of course. All rubbish is kept inside the vehicle, so that hungry wildlife is not attracted to the camp, for our comfort, as well as those who follow after us. We take all rubbish back to the town for disposal at a municipal dump, of course.

We take enough water for washing up and making coffee, tea, etc., but also take enough for a brief shower now and then. In the very dry climate, you can do without a shower for a day or two, but then everyone needs the feeling of getting really clean, especially the girls. I have a portable shower unit, with a 12V electric pump, that I can hang on the back of the Land Rover, or a tree branch if there’s tall enough trees around. Plus a shower tent that I can erect around it for modesty, although it’s very cramped.

One trip, a couple of months ago turned a bit more interesting than normal, when I had a booking from a couple of girls that had been on a few other previous trips. One, Susan, was from England and the other, Lisa, is almost a local, coming from Durban. Now we normally only accept minimum groups of four people, as the costs do not justify going with smaller groups and this time, we had no other bookings for that month, so we would have to ask them to postpone to another time. However, these two girls both appealed to us to keep the bookings, as they had no other opportunity for a bush trip again for a few years and had difficulty arranging another date, due to work demands. They had become friends on previous trips and had kept in touch, carefully arranging everything so they could be on a trip at the same time. Neither wanted to book with strangers entirely and on their first trip, when they met, they had each been with boyfriends, but were currently without partners, so wanted the safety in numbers. Unknown to me, Pat, my office manager and trip cook, took pity on them and confirmed the trip was on, hoping, she told me later, to get another two or three people booked up before we were due to collect them all from the airport. I told her not to ask for the full payment, (they had already paid deposits) and to tell them the trip was off, with their deposits being valid for another trip, when they could arrange it.

Pat once again disobeyed me and accepted their final payments and processed the card transactions, without telling me. I found out in a routine review of deposits, as I was working out cash flow in a quiet month. I called Pat over and asked her what this was about. She stammered a bit and said she really felt sorry for them and they were such nice girls, we really ought to keep the trip on. I was very angry, as it meant a drain on our resources, an unprofitable trip and time away when we could be doing maintenance. I carried on in an angry voice for quite some time, as I got into my stride! Pat looked very repentant and was grimacing a bit, as well as fidgeting nervously. Since there were only three weeks to go, I told her that we would do the trip, as we could not possibly cancel it at this late stage, but that she had better find a couple more guests by the time we leave, or I’d make sure she could not sit comfortably in the Land Rover for the first few days.

Pat twitched and shivered as if I had dropped an ice cube down her back, whilst her eyebrows shot up and she went “Eeek!” and then “Oh no ! you wouldn’t really would you?” plaintively. “Oh yes I would!” Says I and “You’ll find out if we don’t get those extra bookings, won’t you?”

Pat squeaked again and ran back to her desk to get on with it. I had to smile, Pat often hurries, but never runs in the office. We had known each other for several years now and had happily shared my house, as well as various tents on trips. We even had a double sleeping bag, so we were definitely classified locally as common law husband and wife, even to the tax man. Being a small town, everyone else knew too. In that part of the world, wives do expect the husband to be very dominant and the odd bit of CP is heard about, never spoken about openly, but accepted practice. This made me think harder, as I had never thought Pat would want to be spanked as a normal part of her life, although I had once spanked her over my knee, on her bare bum. She had been quite vocal that time, calling me a brute, so I had let that go and never spanked her again, apart from an occasional swat that she giggled over. I had always wondered though, as she had never actually raised the subject again, but had certainly not held a grudge. She had been careful to avoid giving me a reason for a week or so after that spanking though. Ah well, we’re not telepathic. Her reaction that day had me wondering again though, the threat seemed to motivate her quite a lot and there had been no actual protest, just nervous acceptance that it would happen if she didn’t produce.

Three days before departure date and there were no more bookings for that trip. Plenty for subsequent trips, but this one was going to be a loss. Pat asked if I was really going to whack her and I told her, with a grin on my face, that she had better get a suitable strap for a girls’ bottom, from one of the local tradesmen. Pat is 38 years old, but girls are girls. She surprised me by, very nervously, telling me she had already bought one, knowing that more bookings were now highly unlikely! When questioned, she had, apparently, asked the woman who worked in a local shop what to do and had been told that men in this part of the world always have a strap or a cane, that she knew about from first hand experience ! She knew just where to get them and advised on the strap, as it doesn’t leave marks for so long. Pat couldn’t quite keep still, fidgeting with her hands behind her back and from one foot to the other.

I was very taken aback, clearly Pat knew she deserved it and was equally resigned to get it. “Right,” I said “if there’s still no more bookings by the close of business on the day before the trip, you get six of the best over my desk”. “Yes Sir” she said meekly. I dismissed her and found it very difficult to concentrate and avoid a huge grin.

The last day arrived and went quickly, with last minute arrangements and checks, loading the vehicles, etc. By 5 o’clock we were ready and I told Pat to lock up the office and we’d have a beer. Pat did all the usual checks and went over to our small bar and retrieved a couple of cold beers and glasses for us, bringing them over to the central table. I poured them and we clinked glasses taking a swallow. “Right Pat, any extra bookings?” Pat shook her head sadly and went over to her desk, retrieving her strap from the bottom drawer and brought it over, handing it to me quickly, eyes downcast.

It was simple, but appeared to be designed for the job, stiff leather, not heavy, about 600mm long and about 40mm wide. Just right for a bit of office discipline, I thought, not too harsh, but would be memorable and, I thought, fun, at least for me!

I put it down on the table and pulled Pat towards me, undoing her slacks and pulling them down. I told her to step out of them and she put them on the table, turning back to me, holding her hands away from her sides as I pulled her knickers down. She reached down and took them off, blushing mightily. I then told her to bend over my desk, feet apart to shoulder level, elbows on the desk and hold on to the other side, sticking her chest out and her bum up. She did so quickly, without a word.

Pat has marvelous legs and a very sexy bum and I was getting quite aroused by the sight and the immediate obedience. A new chapter in our life seemed about to begin.

I stood to one side and gently ran my hand over her delightfully smooth buttocks, as she tremored slightly, but didn’t move. I raised the strap, and brought it round sharply across the middle of her delightful bum. The sound was quite loud, a really sharp crack and I was worried that I had laid it on too hard. Pat jumped visibly, staying perfectly in position though, so I repeated the same. Pat didn’t jump as much this time, but her bum was already quite red. After the fourth whack, she let out a small squeak, but didn’t move. The last two produced the same little squeak and a slight shift of feet on the last one, but she stayed where she was.

I put down the strap and ran my hand gently both of her cheeks, then down the middle and between her legs, while she wiggled enthusiastically, but not moving out of position. She was definitely aroused! So, indeed, was I. Well that wasn’t the first time we’d ended up cavorting naked around the office and it won’t be the last either. Pat was insatiable and I remarked that a good whacking seemed to do her a lot of good. She grinned coquettishly, blushing and said “Brute!” with a pout. I grinned too and told her the beers were warm. That got me an old fashioned look, but also a cold beer fetched with alacrity, proving that freshly spanked girls are very eager to please too.

Thank you Boru. When is the next safari scheduled to leave?