Worth a Second Look

Women in Control

This post will be, I hope, or particular interest to some of my blogging friends. What Throck, Prefectdt, Red, Recidavist, Burl, David and Reece have in common is their enjoyment of being on the receiving end of a spanking administered by a woman. I hope that they - and everyone who appreciates discipline from a dominant woman - will enjoy these.

From the Top Shelf - Serving Time, Part V

Another vignette from Serving Time by Sarah Veitch. If you missed the earlier ones, here are parts one, two, three and four.

Fern has now been at Compulsion - the reformatory with unique but familiar methods of rehabilitation - for some time. She works in the gardens, and is on her way now, but is told by a guard to take a different route.

"Go by the gate at the left. The fields you've been working on have been given over to some of the senior officers for a prolonged disciplinary session. You'll be cutting the lawns on the south side today."

Now that sounds intriguing, don't you think? Fern thought so too, and goes to investigate.

She heard the sound of thrashing long before she saw it. She heard the cane's savage swish, followed by a gasp of breath and a sharp high cry... Fern walked silently over to the bushes. Hunkering down behind them, she parted the foliage and peered through the newly created gap. Then she exhaled hard and bit her lip as she saw that she was a mere eight feet away from ten bare bottoms that were held firmly in place...


She saw that the miscreants' necks and arms were locked in a device that resembled the latter day stocks. Only the stocks before her were long enough to hold a dozen wicked necks and sets of arms in place leaving the related bums completely unable to protect their tender selves.


Raising her eyes, she saw a guard she vaguely recognized from her weeks at Compulsion. The man strode towards the long desk which was just inches away from the helpless inmates' heads.


"What shall it be this time?" he asked, looking at the rods, whips and martinets before him. Fern watched every waiting bottom twitch. "On reflection, I think the two-fingered tawse will warm up an arse or two," the guard continued, picking up the long leather punisher. He ran the implement through his hands then took his time strolling behind the restrained young bums.

They were very varied bums, Fern realized, scrutinizing the row of vulnerable bare bottoms. Eight of them were well-rounded and female, whilst the two more oval-shaped hirsute ones were male. The posterior immediately in front of her was slightly plump, and curved into a pair of equally curvy thighs. Each inch of flesh was lightly suntanned. Each inch of flesh was also anticipating a somewhat more painful tan.


As she stared, the guard stopped behind a slightly darker girlish derriere. The unfortunate bottom flinched as did the bottoms on either side of it.


"Putting weedkiller on the mange touts [edible-podded peas], failing to water the saplings - so many misdemeanours," the guard said mockingly. Again the waiting buttocks puckered then untensed.


The man pulled back the leather tawse then brought it smartly down over one of the helpless cheeks, creating a pink spreading punishment mark. As the girl squealed and moved her bum from side to side he laid on the implement again. "Save your whimpers till that bottom's been out in the sun for an hour, Theresa, giving me a nice warm canvas," he said mockingly. "I like to take my time turning a hot pink bum a pretty red."


Fern squinted at the furthest female backside. The soft flesh was already glowing all over, as if it had tasted the bat-shaped paddle. It writhed as the guard's footsteps moved its way.


"You needn't wriggle that scarlet arse at me and hope you'll escape further whipping, Rosie," the man said emotionlessly. 'I haven't finished correcting that wicked little posterior yet."


He hadn't started correcting some of the others! Fern sat down silently on her own bum and parted a lower portion of the bushes. She felt safer squatting on her most tender charms, carefully protecting them. God knows what this bastard would do if he found her lurking there. Her crime would be eavesdropping, and she could easily envisage her punishment. There was room for two more naughty bottoms in those hateful stocks.


"Well, young Keith, what have you to say for yourself after planting the bulbs too shallowly?" the guard asked, walking up to yet another bared posterior.


"I'm sorry, sir. I was tired, sir," muttered the youth.


"And now I have to make you sorry," the guard continued, beginning to unbuckle his belt.


Keith's bottom was still relaxed, his eyes presumably trained on the punishment table before him which held all the admonishing implements. He obviously had no idea, Fern realized, that the guard was about to thrash him with the strap from his waist. As she stared the uniformed man flipped back the belt then walloped the youth's helpless buttocks six times.


"Oh! Ah! Aaaah!" The boy's yells increased as each of the lashes were laid on...


...There was a particularly cheeky upturned girlish bum in the centre of the stocks, and Fern found herself wanting the guard to cane it hard.


At last the guard turned his merciless attention towards that particular waiting rear. "Oh dear, Sylvie, we seem to have neglected your posterior so far, don't we, sweetheart?"


The bottom in question quivered, but Sylvie didn't answer.


"I'll have to pay it particular attention now," the man said, his voice containing a smile. He walked over to the table and let his hand hover over the cat-o'-nine-tails, the variously shaped martinets and the wooden-handled razor strop. "I wonder, should we warm your arse uniformly with a nice wide paddle or stripe it with a Victorian rod?" He handled the leather, rubber and bamboo implements, swishing them through the air then slapping them lightly against his palm as he stared over at the trembling Sylvie. "Which punisher would make a naughty bottom good?"


The rod won. Smiling, he picked up a reformatory cane and ran it through his fingers. Fern could see the tension in the girl's naked shoulders increase. The main muscles in her bottom tightened up as the guard strolled round to those selfsame buttocks. After a moment or two Sylvie couldn't hold the position and had to let her muscles relax.


It was then that Sylvie's tormentor applied the punitive stick to her bare hindquarters, causing a thin red stripe to appear across the centre of the previously creamy flesh. The blond girl cried out and moved her poor bottom from side to side the little she could given her body's position in the stocks.


"Such a loud noise for such a little girl," mocked the guard, lining the rod up again.


"Sorry to interrupt!"

What could be important enough to interrupt such a delicious scene? Stay tuned....

Bedtime

I don't usually post pictures of naked bottoms, but this one was too good not to share with you. it comes from a popular site called hawtness.com.




It's a naughty pose, but isn't intended to be a spanking picture. Or is it?

I saw similar pyjamas offered in a non-kinky gift catalogue last Christmas, so they are available in the vanilla world. Do you have some, or have you considered getting them for yourself or for your spanking partner?

A Birthday Milestone

This year a cheezburger wasn't exactly what I had in mind. And as for the title of this post, I don't mean one of those major age-related milestones. Thank goodness the next one's not for another, oh, several years at least (wink!) This was a birthday milestone of another sort.

I told you a while ago about my determination to have a birthday spanking this year. Although Ron had said he would give me one - and before breakfast at that - I thought it wouldn't hurt to remind him. So three days before the event, I asked him if he was really going to celebrate the big day before breakfast.

"What?" he asked. "Oh, I was just joking."

"You were?" About the spanking or about the timing, I wondered.

"How about after breakfast?" he responded, and I relaxed. That would be fine too, and at least I had gently made it clear that I would not be forgetting about it this year.

When the big day arrived (it was was actually the same day as my blogaversary) I got a hug, a kiss, a lovely gift, a card, my favourite breakfast - but no spanking. I almost questioned the omission as I left for the office, then though better of it; if Ron had something planned for later on, I didn't want to spoil it by being too pushy.

But all day I remained preoccupied, and unwanted questions darted through my mind. I kept up a steady internal dialogue with myself whenever I was not busy with a task at work. He's forgotten. I'll sulk. Should I remind him when I get home? He's hoping I won't say anything. I'll cry. Maybe I should email him. He'll say "wait till next year". I'll stop speaking to him. I need to IM him. He's got something wonderful and exciting planned. He'll pretend he's forgotten. I don't care. Yes I do. If he says no...

On the way home I decided to think positively, and made some very pleasant spanking images dance through my mind, wiping away all traces of the negative conversations from earlier that day. After all, I reminded myself, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.




I did the usual things when I got home - unpacked my briefcase, changed, checked the snail mail - but when Ron had failed to mention spanking after about ten minutes, I decided I had to act. I was still feeling very excited and optimistic as I firmly fixed a pleasant smile on my face. In a cheerful tone of voice, I broached the subject.

"So, you didn't give me that spanking after breakfast," I began.

"Um, no..." Ron looked puzzled.

"So when are you planning to do it?" Still determinedly light and playful.

"Any time. When do you want it?"

"Any time." It felt like a tennis match. I needed to take charge. "Before dinner."

"Before dinner it is," and Ron resumed watching the news. But I still had details to clarify.

"Do you know what you have to do?" I queried pleasantly.

The puzzled look returned. "Do?"

"You have to give me one whack for each year, plus one to grow on," I explained. Ron looked relieved. I can't imagine what he thought I was going to say. I felt I had done my bit, and settled back to watch television and wait.

When the program was over Ron escorted me upstairs and chose a brown leather paddle to commemorate my birthday in the traditional manner.

"Do you want to count, or should I?" he asked. This was turning into the type of spanking I had only dreamed about. Counting! We'd never done that before. I pondered the question.

"Do you want me to?" It seemed like an appropriately submissive sort of thing to say.

"I'll count," Ron decided, and, with my pulse pounding in my ears, I pulled down my jeans and panties with shaking hands, then bent over the end of the bed.

Whack! "One." Whack! "Two." I was suddenly seized with giggles as I realized that this was fun! I alternately laughed and yelped until I realized that a birthday spanking hurt just as much as an ordinary one, and I simply didn't feel like laughing any more.

In no time at all, it seemed, we reached twenty-five. Ron stopped and stroked my pink cheeks for a while. Then he resumed the celebration. At fifty, he paused again for more rubbing before completing the final assault. He finished with a flourish for the "one to grow on" and I was both relieved and sorry that it was over. Mostly, though, I was thrilled that I had finally been granted my wish.

I was walking on air for the rest of the evening. In fact, my mind was full of the excitement of our recent encounter, and I found it difficult to concentrate. I absent-mindedly got leftover ham and scalloped potatoes out of the fridge for dinner, only to see Ron busily slicing potatoes. I'd forgotten our plan to have fish and chips. Then I opened the can of asparagus from the wrong end (oh, noes!) and got told off for that.

"No more spankings before dinner," Ron scolded playfully. "They make you stupid." I couldn't argue with that. I was giddy and glowing, and we had a delightful evening, with lots of laughter and hugs.

I can't wait for next year's birthday celebration. And I learned an important lesson; being as sweet as honey really pays off.

Complete the Caption

Here's another interesting photo with a partial caption.

Fill in the blanks in any way you wish. You aren't restricted by the amount of white space. Do your worst!

Garden Planning

The seed catalogue has some lascivious offerings this year.









Our garden might be restricted to persons 18 or over, but it will be lots of fun!