A British university registrar has been offering fake degrees in exchange for spanking sessions, according to the Times of London. Women were promised university degrees in exchange for helping him with "pain management studies" in a hotel room.
The easy way to higher education, true, but they missed out on the initiation paddlings.
The Punishing of Pauline Peach by Alison North, with its cover picture of the rear view of a thong-wearing young lady holding a pair of handcuffs, sounded promising. And sure enough, amid the descriptions of Pauline's naughtiness on virtually every page, she eventually is made to atone for her sins.
Pauline worked in an office where every man seemed intent upon ravishing her, and after some initial resistance, she became quite compliant. Most of them went about it in the usual way, but one senior partner was different:
She'd not the slightest inkling of what was really lying in store when she'd knocked timidly on his door and awaited his response.
But ten minutes later his intentions had been more than clear. Ten minutes later she'd stared in horror at the huge plastic ruler he'd just picked up from beside his desk. "I think you can judge for yourself," he'd cried triumphantly, "just how fresh that complexion will be!"
He'd been referring, of course, to the complexion he was intending to place upon the cheekiest part of her person. The cheekiest part of her person that had started to quiver in fear at the thought of that long, heavy ruler being laid across it with the sort of determination he clearly possessed. Earlier, when he'd been threatening to sack her, she'd begged him to put a fresh complexion on certain delicate matters. But those "delicate matters" to which she'd been referring had definitely not been the plump, pouting cheeks of her unclothed bottom!
With the ruler held menacingly across both buttocks, she'd been marched across to the far side of his room. "Bend over, Mrs. Peach," he'd said coldly, indicating a high-backed chair and a table beyond it. She'd had no alternative. Slowly and reluctantly she'd done as he'd bid, bending forward over the back of the chair and then placing her head and arms on the writing table, in such a way that her bottom was the highest part of her above the floor. The highest by several inches. Showing considerable skill, he'd used the tip of the ruler to lift her short summer dress up past her waist, thus exposing her tiny little black knickers to the glare of the light from the window. Tiny little black knickers that had borne the rather saucy message "Kiss-Kiss" right across the middle of their miniscule seat. A message that had so infuriated Mr Davis-Davies that he'd found himself compelled, twice, to bring the evil looking ruler down across it with all the force he could muster, making her howl in distress.
Having removed her knickers with the ruler...he'd then stood behind her for ages, holding the ruler and staring at the plump little bottom...
Then he'd laid the ruler right across them with all his strength, time after time after time. Right across the fleshiest part of her bottom, making her shriek and weep buckets of tears.
What he hadn't known, of course--and she was very grateful that he hadn't--was the effect that the spanking was having on her. Whilst her bottom was being burnt alive, her insides had been wracked with orgasm. Each time the ruler had seared itself across her bottom, her orgasm had seemed to grow in strength...
Eventually the spanking had finished and Mr Davis-Davies replaced the ruler on the table beside her head. Her bottom had been absolutely ablaze. She'd never known such a furnace-like heat. She'd never been so sore or so raw. Had he wanted, Mr Davis-Davies could have fried an egg on the middle of each blistered cheek.
But the heat in her loins had been even greater. She'd never felt sexier in her life.
It seems that Pauline enjoyed her office discipline. I'll share more of her OTK adventures soon.
My dear husband likes routines, and thinks long and hard before altering any of the usual patterns in his day to day life. Change doesn't come easily for him. I know this and am quite comfortable with it, and try not to surprise him too often with spontaneous suggestions.
That's why I couldn't believe my ears when Ron told me one Friday evening recently that he had decided to switch our regular date from Sunday to Saturday. (I don't recall seeing any pigs fluttering past our window.) Sunday had been our special time, reserved for intimacy of some sort, for more years than I can remember. What had prompted this change?
I asked him, and he reminded me that Sundays didn't seem to be working out too well lately. That was true. What with special activities related to the holiday season, our seasonal colds and flu, and too much snow shoveling, we had often had to reschedule or even cancel our regular play. Then of course there's Sunday football, and I had always wondered why Ron was so willing to interrupt his enjoyment of the game for a totally different but equally (I hope) enjoyable activity.
So there you have it. Saturday it is, and so far it seems to be working out quite well. For some reason we both aren't as tired on that day as we usually are by Sunday afternoon, so we have plenty of energy for spanking and whatever else Ron has in mind. He can enjoy football the next day without watching the clock, and I have a comfortable, peaceful feeling that a spanking always produces, that lasts through the remainder of the weekend. As much as I enjoy being spanked, there is always a certain amount of apprehension and anxiety that occurs as the time draws closer, and with that feeling out of the way sooner, I can enjoy the afterglow (or afterburn) the following day, while I'm doing pleasant things at home, instead of forgetting the pleasure in the busyness of a new week at work.
This was definitely a change for the better. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go get ready.
But I want a paddling now!
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