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All photos are posed by
models, professional or
otherwise, over the age of
18; none of the contents of
this magazine are intended
to condone or encourage
sexual coercion. Stories and
articles represent fictional
situations only; reader’s let-
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legitimate comment reflec-
ting the writer’s views
alone. All material in this
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Published by:
Broadway Graphics,
43 Lower Addiscombe
Road, Croydon CRO 6PQ
2
An Afterno ous
PLEASURES...

he parish church clock struck

ik It was already dark. Across
the road, Mrs Smith at No. 9.
thought young Charlotte was simply a lit-
tle early for choir practice as the girl
walked up the gravel path towards the
church, carrying her small sheaf of
music. Further along the road, in the lay-
by just beyond the hill, a man was park-
ing an articulated lorry. He checked the
rear doors, ensuring they were securely
locked and his load well-fastened, and
then he too walked in the direction of the
church.
Charlotte Edwards was a mature and
pretty eighteen year old, with only one
real passion in life. And under cover of
darkness, in the loneliness and isolation
of the village churchyard, she was about
to indulge very willingly in her passion.
She reached the South Porch, where she
would normally enter the church. She
knew old Mrs Smith couldn’t see her
now, however hard she peered out from
behind her dingy net curtains. Quickly,
she skipped on, beyond the porch and in-
to the really dark recesses of the chur-
chyard, where the only shadows were
those cast by the ancient slate
tombstones.
At the corner of the church she stop-
ped and waited, hoping that he would
soon come; so that she wouldn’t have to
stay on her own too long in this place of
‘Shadows; so that they could have as long Alan soon joined her. He i her. C fiS-
as possible together before she would a little as he crept quietly al 1ea d t y curls
have to troop into the church with the under cover of darkness. you want?”
other girls for choir practice at half past ‘How’s my little lady, tonig breathing
eight. was naturally rough, but fingers,
Tonight would be the last time for her edgy husky note to his wor louse, slip-
and Alan. He lived up North, anyway, she said, quietly and sy f pretty bra,
and after six weeks’ contract work in the haven’t got long.’ The clo of her breasts,
area, he was driving back that night, with tower struck the quarter. truding tips.
a full load to make the journey pay for late. He’d get suspicious.’ her, still holding
itself. Of course, Charlotte didn’t regret ‘Alright. But...’ ed away from the
his leaving. There would be others. It He paused. Charlotte loo buiding towards the
wasn’t love. It had never been love. Just face, smiling encouragingl nto th é old Glebe
the thrill of the sex. A young girl really kissed her lips again and he ;
turning on an older man, leading him on, to his body. ‘I want you to de 1e dark presence of the
so carefully, with such subtle gentle sug+ very special for me tonight. ‘it was not so dark in
gestive moves. Uniti si eeally took her, our last time...” He unbuttoned mst the nearer corner
well and truly. : | od slipped it away from her bales of hay were
1 moonlight, shele transport to the barn on
ft illumination lit he f Glebe Farm. He took
"a. very special lu and took her towards
Se" was so crisp and cl She saw the thick rug
= Body so soft beneath its ge it. “You came here first?’
2 ju Te > bit ~ took hold of her shoulde Fork y the side of the bale
reluctant to go ‘all the way’ or do turned her around, so that isfac- a thick travelling rug had
‘something really special’, looking at her ing away from him. His k nds__ be could treat you like an
man with such large and appealing eyes. moved slowly from her sho

ly becoming tense in his

the rough husky words.
toe, and put her arms
Oh...Oh Alan...I’1l
lan. Just tonight...It
“how...naughty...’ She
ocence was still in her
2as just an innocent country
the moment. Turned on
 At least. that was what she
Jan would think. It made men
xXier, when they thought they were
the lead. Teaching an innocent
me female about sex.

| finger across the moist i ‘It's

ler pps I want. Now. (Ones
gai
w facingaway eee be and looking

height across the baleof had

rug .’ She made to scramb

hat she was right across the hay. and her

bottom was jutting right out, in his
direction.
His hands moved to her skirt, lifting
it, pushing it up above her waist, reveal-
ing her rounded bottom curves, tightly
encased in thin brief knickers, the
; of the fabric leaving soft ex-
yf her lower cheeks tantalisingly
 g relessly
Yow open your legs
n Mo. know
themeign down. There An his fingers
during which his hands slipping in
i under
Charlotte closed her eyes= tom, searching for
knowing he was undressing oring her femini-
his clothes in a sort of com [She was more than
zy. his eyes never moving body was perfectly
sion of her upturned bare um, her bottom and
curves and secret crevices Ips protruding at the
the soft moonlight. “Open
ordered her. She shuffled f use, unt his outstret-
until the tangled restraints ere supporting her breasts.
stopped her. “No. More. vn. the nipples, feeling so
His orders were urgent TG to his m:
reathing lacking control? 2 to remember me by.
Whispered as” e entered
ness ,and urgeney of his
ver even further over the
t were left dangling in
dy slapped against her
bared bottom. ‘God. You’re beautiful.’ out-building. In the silence of the even- Langley Hill, and his wife, and the other
Charlotte’s words were merest whispers ing, he heard a cry. He stopped in his clerics gathered in the room. And every
and the man didn’t hear them. His senses tracks. Perhaps it had been his imagina- vicious crack of the thin cane across that
were already blurred by the tight wet tion. But no. This time the cry was quite young lady’s bottom had forced an
juicy sexy crevices of this dream-girl. clear, and not too far away. One breathy urgent shrill yell of pain from the
Charlotte was gasping at each thrust. She excited cry, and then another, and miscreant’s lips. The Vicar stopped and
needed this, probably more than he did. another. His heart was already beating listened again, turning his head slowly
She had been waiting for this, for so faster. What did it sound like? Stumbl- in an attempt to divine the direction of
long. It made it feel all the better, now ing a little in the poor light, he tried to the sound. The little girlish squeals were
that he was really screwing her so hard... move towards the direction of the noise. quite clear, now, and getting ever more
The Revd. John Attwood unlocked the He had very recent memories of a similar urgent, almost frenetic. But
South Door of the church and switched sort of noise. When he had witnessed that somehow...Attwood crept down and
on the lights. The church felt cold and caning, last Sunday afternoon in the Ar- across the churchyard towards the rusty
damp. Perhaps the old boiler had failed chdeacon’s house. it had been a girl from Victorian railings which divided the
again. He left the building by way of the the next village. A right little trouble- church land from the Meadow....
vestry door, and followed the perimeter maker. The Archdeacon had taken the Somehow, though these weren’t cries
path towards the rear of the church where girl’s pants right down, and then he had of pain...Suddenly he saw them. The girl
the boiler was housed in a small brick caned her, in front of the Vicar of still stretched out, face down across the
 cstasy, her fingent am
the soft hay, as her body

Dice. anyway. Later, he ‘would

with her. He recognised her, even
~ though her face was turned away from
him. But he would have recognised the
Shape of Miss Charlotte Edwards
anywhere. . The contours of her body he
had studied so very frequently at choir
practice, and bible class. He returned to

lovers as they moved

ards a loud, uncontrolled
above the tall war-
drobe where the clerical dress was kept, turn in search of help and guidance. posing her, tantalising, giving that man,
the man felt for his cane. It was dusty. Many a young lady had been ‘guided’ by whoever he was, just exactly what he
He wiped it clean with his handkerchief, his cane in past years. But now, only the wanted. And those cries. It was so very
the cane leaving a dark ridge of grey old families would come to him for his obvious that Miss Charlotte Edwards was
against the white line. He hardly ever us- very special sort of pastoral care. The vi- enjoying every minute of her ordeal. He
ed it, these days. People were changing. sion of the girl — his choirgirl — out pictured her bared bottom-curves as he
Once upon a time, the Vicar had been a there in the meadow, came to him again. bent the cane in a tight arc between his
power in the village. A man of respon- Her body stretched across that hay. Her hands. Later, he would have her bent
sibility. Someone to whom others could legs held so wide apart, so blatently ex- over in a similar fashion, her bottom jut-
ting out at the perfect angle. And he more firmly into her bottom flesh. ‘And ed in the direction of the church.
would make her gasp! Every single you’ve got the perfect bottom for tann- Attwood cleared the simple Vestry
stroke of his cane across those ample ing, darling...’ She pushed him away, in desk of ornaments, and lifted an em-
feminine buttocks, and her firm thighs, a pretence of being insulted. ‘Not bad for broidered kneeler, placing it at one end
would make her squeal very much louder screwing, either, apparently.’ of the desk. If he could have been sure
and more urgently than that character in They said their farewells, neither of of privacy, he would have used the bale
the meadow. And they wouldn’t be cries them too concerned about leaving. There of straw. The very same bale over which
of ecstacy. were pretty young sirens in every town she had so willingly bent, awaiting that
They dressed quickly. ‘Where the hell and village in the country, and most man’s attentions. He would have draped
are my knickers?’ She found them after seemed fatally attracted to truckers. And her across it in just the same way, with
a few seconds of panic, thrown onto the as for Charlotte, she lived for kicks. So or without a travelling rug for comfort.
ground. She sat down on a smaller bale Alan was leaving. So what. Another And when her bottom had been bared,
of hay as she reached down to slip her male would take his place, very soon. and was pointing heaven wards at just the
knickers back on, and jumped as the Another idiot of a man who thought he right angle, he would have caned her,
roughly-cut edges of the hay pinched her was God’s gift to women. Another over- reminding her of the rhythm of her
still bared bottom. ‘Ouch.’ She jumped sexed male who believed he had patented earlier yells, he would soon encourage
up, and rubbed her bottom. ‘That hurt.’ kinky sex in the school bike-sheds, some an even more urgent set of exclamations
The man laughed. ‘Serve you right for years previously, and now had a duty to to pass her pretty lips!
letting me screw you like that...” She expound his philosophies on every ap- But the table and kneeler would do. It
smiled at him, and put her arms around parently innocent young girl he could had served well in the past. He had cer-
his neck, her knickers still at half-mast. find. Charlotte would go on enticing tainly tamed young Carol Perkins across
‘Oh yes. You don’t approve, then? So . them, letting them believe she was so in- it, not too many moons ago. That little
what would you do if your daughter end- nocent and so easily led. And she would minx had really been asking for it. And
ed up across a bale of straw at the end let them give her her thrills. Behind the the Revd. John Attwood had obliged, to
of a truck driver?’ The man cupped his church, in the back of a lorry, over a bale the firm satisfaction of almost everyone
hands against the lower curves of her of hay. Wherever and whenever their im- of his closely-knit flock who found out
smooth bottom. ‘I’d tan her bottom un- agination dictated. Alan left first, and she about it. Desecrating the churchyard.
til she couldn’t sit down. That’s what I’d saw a red glow as he lit up a cigarette. That was the usual crime. In Carol’s
do...’ He kissed her, and dug his fingers She checked her blouse buttons, slipped case, the little blonde had been found,
her coat over her shoulders and return- sunbathing on its grassy slopes! A pert
little blonde in a jet black swimming It was the detail that John Attwood himself, would be another. He would
costume. In the privacy of his vestry, could remember. The six parallel sets of take choir practice as usual, in his cheer-
with the main church doors locked, the tramlines, thin pink across her pale ful encouraging manner. Perhaps he
vicar had dealt with the problem. Miss cheeks, and the seventh stroke, a would conclude the session a few minutes
Perkins had had her swimming costume diagonal track of pain, crossing the other earlier than usual, so that the girls could
peeled away from her pretty person, and strokes. He had given her that final get home before the frost came down.
then, in her birthday suit, she had been stroke for swearing at him, under her And then he would call Charlotte into his
up-ended over the desk, her triangle of breath. He remembered the warmth of room. He would make her stand there,
little blonde curls pressed hard against her body, which warmed also the kneeler while he waved the cane in front of her,
the kneeler. And by the way his cane had as he lifted it back off the table after the and he would challenge her about the
made her wave her legs about, each punishment. And the light fragrance of disgusting scene in the meadow. And
stroke provoked young Carol to exhibit the girl’s perfume which seemed to linger then, after her confessions, he would
parts of her anatomy which would nor- in the air long after she had scampered cane her. Like it or not, the girl would
mally be kept quite hidden. Each swipe back out of the vestry, her fingers try- opt for his punishment. The Vicar could
of the cane parted her legs and her bot- ing to itch the pain away from her bot- always promise the matter would go no
tom cheeks, and reminded Attwood that tom as she ran. further. In a small village, it was a girl’s
he was indeed caning a real natural That had been a classic punishment only option. If the village knew all about
blonde. session. Tonight, Attwood promised the clandestine meetings which John Att-
wood somehow always stumbled upon,
 “there would be hell to pay. From family
and friends, and others, too. :
Charlotte. would agree to be punis
and he would tell her to undress. E
rassé@.and flustered, she weuld u
hepskirt and step out ofit,foldingait |
Sfacin
ng it over the.chair. against thew
And then
he would wait as-she’ took”
= knickers-« down.-He would be pat
There-would ‘be no need for haste. A
~..<~-2*-thore- delightful scene he could hardl,
_-—-.. imagine. A naughty young lady, slowly
and reluctantly lowering her silly little
knickers, bending down to unhitch them
from her ankles, getting all flustered, intimate views that she had so willingly squeals ca
ing to hide her private parts from offered that man. There was nothing on waved aro
man’s gaze. Looking at him, blushing y earth quite like a mischevious young unladylikg Migent the bo1
crimson, as he lectured her. He would minx Ce Charlotte Smith, her bottom practice came:

make her put her hands on her head and dang so appealingly as he ap- Miss Ch
stand in front of him, so he could really eK. > to her lovely firm rump. her
see her. And she would blush even more e cane as it whistled down gs
profusely. Finally, he would bend her’ os

tautly across the desk and the kneé@ler. sne

and cane her. He would make her spré@a re be om. And ae Bre
her legs, sojgbat he could be party to thes : split-second later, as-the® “node
BAR ES
ite DME DN
te
Le ee eee
 fae il

ae

ta MES a

ees
>

a AY f

FERS

rt
yeah

ee—ear y ing a firm hand on as a ripe pear. — bottoms tanning? He would give them a tanning
things over at Towley, John. You know obbled as the canggbit into the to remember!
.--me. I can’t stand this new namby-pamby tg firm sii s for which He allowed Attwood to continue. ‘Yes.
- thinking.” He offered Attwood a further ee: f a large ivory-backed hair- Twelve strokes. And with the
glass of sherry. “The point being, John, brush was the ideal prescription. Bottoms sine. as the young minx
no-one knows of a finer, and more ef- which revealed the ghost of the, outline had experienced over the hay.” He drew
fective method of training these of thin little bikini pants in a triangle of his chair closer to the Archdeacon. ‘She.
youngsters.’ The Archdeacon frequent- paler flesh set against sun-tanned thighs. was still...er....very...affected bythe
ly gave thanks for the thoughtful way in And just oc€asionally, these days, bot- man...when I caned her...’ His eager
which'the feminine human body had been toms sun-tanned all over. The Ar- observant eyes had noticed, as she had
formed. A seemingly never-ending suc- chdeacon paid particular attention to the bent across the desk, the kneeler Baising
cession of bottoms wobbled and bounc- latter variety. The brazen wenches of this her hips and her bottom. Each time she
ed through his hands. Bottoms small and modern day! So they thought nothing of opened her legs to absorb the biting sting
large;as tight as an apple, or as volup- taking their knickers down for a sun- of another cane stroke. She had looked
 a
SSS Sa ee

witness to her punishment will serve to

\ bring this young miscreant down a peg
or two.’
John Attwood sat back. -He enjoyed the
_ occasional afternoon visit to the Ar-
_ ¢chdeacon’s residence. And to be invited
_ to witness the chastisement of this young
lad céd-man as the
Archdeacon, just a few days after the
== caning of Charlotte. It would be a very
arn
pleasurable duty to perform.
remarkably ep formesfor a girl of her You were coming over, I di He guessed that Rosalind was about
Wimage>-Her s firm, almost swollen? ~ - My most important duties ¢ nineteen years of age. It wasn’t always
Attwood, experienced in the caning of — _Name is Rosalind. Pastor very easy to tell these days. She was «
“female bottoms, was not so experienced over tome from Langley .” He open- quite tall, and fairly slim, her figure
we his Knowledge of sexual arousal. The ed the study door his frée hand, his obscured by a baggy.and ill-fitting
Archdeacon understood, though. He was ‘other hand still occ ied with the sherry tracksuit. Her hair was d Her face
nodding again. ‘Yes. It affects them for glass. A few seconds later, the latest was white, as she stood in silence, star-
hours afterwards, sometimes. It’s the miscreant to grace the Archdeacon’s ing at the two men. ‘You know you must
very best time to cane them. So they can house, entered the room. Attwood plac- be punished, dont you?’ The girl
associate the punishment with— their ed his glass on the occasional table. So whispered her response. “Yes. Sir.’ The
misdeeds. Cane them soon. afterwards. he was to be an observer, at the Ar- Archdeacon returned to his chair. ‘Then
-And cane them hard-’ The glasses of chdeacon’s instigation. ‘Rosalind, here, I think the time has come.’ Both men
<Shetry ‘were topped up yet again. Ar- has not yet been punished, though she noticed the way the girl had clasped her
chdeacon returned the sherry decanter to knows that her punishment will be tak- hands together tightly in front of herself.
the sideboard. “In fact, John, knowing ing place this afternoon. I am sure a “You will go upstairs to the room you
have been given, ae youwillget chang- secretly prided himself on the way he ap-
ed. You will put on only the clothes plied his thin Whippy cane and on how
which have been placed across your for certain, had the girls squirmed and squealed as it bit
bedspread. Nothing else.” The girl ade her very scared indeed. There was ~~ mato their bare bottoms. He was almost
hesitated for a second, wondering just one aima to do exactly ‘ane , so he thought. But then, he
whether she was free to go. ‘Go on. Be as this frightening an ordered of nm would never dare to contradict the Ar-
off with you. And hurry!’ She scampered no matter what it was. Then he wouldn’ chdeacon. ‘This...this Charlotte, who
to the door, closed it rather loudly behind get any more annoyed with her. He you caned last week...was this her first
her, and ran away along the corridor. might even let her off with a good talk- experience of chastisement?’ Attwood
The Archdeacon winced at the noise ing to or something if she smiled really thought for a moment. ‘I believe so, Ar-
but then disregarded it, knowing that the nicely at him and behaved herself. chdeacon. I believe so...’ The older man
girl was nervous, and appreciating that ‘You still have some lessons to learn, was smiling a smile of.experience.. ‘So
young Rosalind had no idea of what her John.’ Attwood was a little surprised by why begin her education with a caning?
punishment might entail. In fact, the Archdeacon’s sudden statement. ‘I Why not start with some milder form of
Rosalind had some vague idea, gleaned beg your pardon? About what? retribution? There’s many a lesson which
from the man’s words and insinuations, About... caning? Surely not?’ Attwood can be taught with the aid of the palm of
seca
aaahonciarancae

the hand, or a good-sized hairbrush...or

a leather strap...or a wide flat slipper...’
He took a breath as mentally he began
to list the contents of his punishment cup-
board. ‘And you can always end such a
chastisement with a good sound caning,
can’t you?’ Attwood tried to agree,
realising that his approach was perhaps
too single minded and narrow. ‘So please
sit back, John, and allow nie to show you
a few variations on a fh
 ne a

jeans, sitting on thee f her t eo

she-slipped off her safidals and tugged the
tight denim off over her ankles. Off came
her teeshirt, over her head, and then her
fingers slipped behind her shoulde
- unclip her bra. Finally, her kn
tered down, and she was standing |
little room, naked. She shivered, not SO” Ge
which looked St as thin. much from the chill of the air, as from
=eShe, began to b firely hedidn’t in- the nervous anticipation of what the Ar-
Young Rosalind reached the room _— tend herto walk’ , dhessed like that? chdeacon was going to do with her. In
which had become her temporary And in front of t er Vicar a or front of the Vicar from the other village.
“bedroom. Tonight would be her first — It just wasn *tdecentBhe droppedi Hurriedly, she slipped the flimsy nightie
night at the Archdeacon’s home, and she | onto the bed and g ynced, around the over her head, tugging it down as far as
feared the hours of darkness, wondering small room, wondering whether she had it would go, and then pulled on the mat-
what the man would want her to do. made a mistake. Hoping that her eyes ching knickers. As she left the room she
Neatly folded in the centre of the small would alight on some more suitable at- glanced at the long mirror. The nightie
bed was a pretty pink nightie. She pick- tire. She shivered as she realised the hardly reached to her hips. Even standing
ed it up, holding it against her body. It truth. All her own clothes had disap- . still, the knickers were clearly visible. In
was very very short, she thought to peared. The wardrobe was empty. All a fluster-of embarrassment and nerves,
herself. Far shorter than anything she had — she had, were the clothes she was stan- she ran back down the stairs, and knock-
at home. And very thin. Just a little pink ~ ding up in, and that little pink nightie. ed on the door. A few nerve-racking
oo with matching ie knickers Saal she undressed, pedi her seconds later, the Archdeacon told her
 to enter. head. Now her tight pink knickers were punished.’
Attwood’s fingers tightened around his fully visible as well as an inch or so of Attwood placed his glass on the
sherry glass as Rosalind crept reluctant- bare tummy, peeping out below thedov sidetable, and sat back in the comfortable
ly into the room. The floral pink delicacy cut waist of the pants and belowt ond ed bout the girl's
of the nightie matched her complexion fringe of the nightie.
beautifully, and contrasted well with the ‘I have been very concerned toh é
ees dark hair. Her legs were long and your appalling behaviour, Rosalind. And~
that is why I suggested to your minister ing. And he felt:a little sorry
that you stay a while, here at the Lodge. panion in the neighbouring parish who
OLR ao I’m afraid such behaviour as yours, can- had apparently been denied the oppor-
vain Th
Hin tunity to deal with this naughty young
lady. ‘Have you any idea... how you will
; Archdeacon empl his be punished?’ Rosalind shrugged her
1 in Attwood’s direction, and y colleague here, the Revd. pretty shpmbde ad.then bit her lip,
deeven more profusely as she Raven! shares my concern at the appall- realising ture cc
ing behaviour of the young people of as rude. *
gall over her body. these parishes, and he will remain in - walked tows
e hem of the flim- here,.as my guest, whilst you are ed finger 1m
sed it down in front of Rosalind. &
.
her, trying to protect a little more of her
modesty, with little success. The Arch-
&£ deacon told her to put her hands on her

rt
bottom was elevated

breath or to utter a wo of protest. She.”

bent forward, her long fingers reaching —
out to meet with her bare toes, her hair
dropping down to hide her burning face.
The Archdeacon had crossed to his
desk, returning with a wide“lat ruleriin
his hand. He applied it, crisply, té
girl’s upturned bottém cheeks. Six,
cracks, payitig particular attention to
bright pink curves which bulged
beneath the taut nded@indShe
| Sq
as each
hands

ing a across'to the

piano stool and telling her to kneel tip,
with her hands back on her head. And
then an experienced male finger slipped
under the knicker elastic and tugged the
pink pants. right down, exposing
Rosalind’s soft punished bottom curves.
Six more smacks with the wide flat ruler,
and the girl was really gasping, and try-
ing to find some words of protest to say.
The final slap made her lose her balance,
and she fell forward, her arms reaching
Roe
ii

PATO
ai
=
f * bs
es
<
4 er

oe

Vv
—

to support her. “Excellent!” mur-

ed the Archdeacon. *A perfect posi-
n for punishment.” And she was made
to stay exactly as she was while six more
slaps of the ruler landed across the bright
“pink bottom cheeks.
After the punishment, Rosalind was
made to stand facing the wall. her
knickers still lying around her bare feet,
and her hands back upon her. head. Att-
wood and the Archdeacon admired the
girl's well-tanned bottom as they listed
to her quiet sobs. “Now, my girl. That
is a taste of things to come. And the on-
ly way in which you can reduce the
; severity of your future punishments is by
Po your exemplary behaviour from now
“on.” The Archdeacon returned the piano
 ane entered and carefully closed the
door behind her. Big brown eyes
looked anxiously, a bit like a
frightened mouse. A very pretty and
shapely young mouse though. Mrs
Weinling was sitting in her favourite
armchair glancing through a glossy
magazine held in elegant be-ringed
fingers. She looked up.
‘Oh that’s very nice, Jane. Very nice
indeedQuite a young lady of fashion.
Turn round. Let me see properly.’
Jane turned a piroutte, black high heels
sinking softly into the deep pile of Mrs
Weinling’s drawing room carpet. The
27
bouffant pale grey skirt swung out show-
ing her slim legs to above the knee.
There was a matching jacket to the skirt,
buttonless and open at the front. Under
it was a black sleeveless top.
Mrs Weinling’s beautifully modulated
upper-middle-class voice again. ‘Yes.
Very charming. Come here.’
Jane stepped obediently forward. ‘No
stockings, Jane? Come closer.’
The dark-haired girl shook her head
but Mrs Weinling’s hand was sliding up
to check for herself. Sliding up under the
full skirt, up the smoothly slim thighs.
‘Good. I think no stockings is best. We
don’t want to seem too sophisticated for
Mr Seebor, do we? That’s not what he
likes.’ The hand slipped further up, on-
to Jane’s bottom.
‘I suppoe it could be no knickers. A lit-
tle artless, ingenue touch. Mr Seebor
might like that.’
Jane breathed out an automatic,
whispered, ‘No!’
The hand had come away. Mrs Weinl-
ing’s voice was sharper. “You will do as
I say, Jane.’ She was standing up now.
‘But perhaps we won’t have you without
knickers. Ingenue yes, but we don’t on
the other hand want you seeming like a
common little tart. Mr Seebor does not
want that.” The elegant hands went to
Jane’s smart jacket, opening it wide.
‘Are you wearing a bra, young lady?’
Jane nodded.
‘Oh I don’t think we want that.
Knickers yes but not a bra. Not when
you’ve such a delightful little figure. Mr
Seebor will be quite charmed with you
without a bra, Jane. Take it off please.’
Jane bit her lip and looked as if she
wanted to protest, or plead, but did
neither. Mrs Weinling did not allow any
disagreement and would very quickly
give tangible, painful proof of this. She
was going over to her bureau, moving
with elegant grace in her straight black
skirt and blouse. She had an excellent
figure, though without the youthfulness
of her young protegee, and with her stun-
ning blonde hair swept high was the
epitome of feminine poise and sophistica-
tion. Jane, her face unhappy, was
nonetheless doing as she was told. Tak-
ing off the jacket and then unfastening
and slipping off the bra under the loose
black top. Standing again with the jacket
replaced. Mrs Weinling came back.
‘Yes, that’s more like it.’ Her hand
came out to the now unbrassiered breasts
contained in the thin black material.
‘Much better.’ The elegant hand fondl-
ed. ‘This is what a gentleman likes. A
pretty girl with a lovely young body. And
not overly shy. Modesty of course but
certainly not a shrinking violet. And I
think with knickers on but no bra we will
achieve that happy medium.’
Mrs Weinling’s hand came away. And
went down and up under the front of
Jane’s skirt. Her voice was softer.
‘Because you’re not really an excessive-
ly shy girl, are you, Jane dear?’
Jane didn’t answer, apart from a little
gasp. The elegant hand was at the crotch
of her tight white knickers. Fingers in
between her legs stroking along the line
of the lips. The girl’s breathing became
noticeably more agitated but she stood
still, not attempting to stop the hand or
squirm away.
Mrs Weinling gave a throaty laugh.
The hand came away. Sliding down bet-
ween the soft thighs. Pausing to sharply
pinch a segment of flesh midway bet-
ween knee and crotch. Then came out.
“Yes, I’m sure Mr Seebor will find you
most entertaining, Jane. He’s due in half
an hour. And that I suppose would give
us time for another little item. Yesterday.
We still have to deal with that, haven’t
we, my dear?’
“Yes, Mrs Weinling.’” Words gasped
out on breathing still agitated from the
intimately caressing and then pinching
fingers.
“Yes, Mrs Weinling,’ the older woman
repeated. ‘Yes, I think we’ve time. Shall
we go up to your room?’
It was not really a question of course,
it was a statement that they would. Jane’s
little room at the top of the house. Up
the broad, luxuriantly carpetted stairway
to the first floor and then on up the nar-
row bare boards which led further. A
staccato rapping of high heels as Mrs
Weinling closely followed Jane. Yester-
day she had dropped a cup while washing
up. Not an expensive item but it was
gross carelessness according to Mrs
Weinling and carelessness needed to be
punished; taught a lesson.
‘Kneel up on the chair, Jane.’
There was no argument. Jane climbed
obediently onto the wooden chair. Kneel-
ing on the hard seat, holding the back.
She knew how she was wanted. She had
had this before.
‘Get your head further down. And
push your bottom out. I won’t cane you,
Jane: not with Mr Seebor coming. We
don’t want you marked for your visitor,
do we? But a smacked bottom — that
won't cause any problems.’ Mrs Weinl-
ing had Jane’s skirt up over her back and
was peeling down the tight white
knickers. Jane gripping the chairback;
telling herself to grit her teeth. It could
be a lot worse: Mrs Weinling could have
done it in front of the visitor, Mr Seebor.
She was quite capable of that. So having
it in her room with no one else here had
to be easier than that. And Mrs Weinl-
ing was not going to use the cane. It was
to be a spanking; and though having your
knickers taken down and your bare bot-
tom spanked made you feel pretty sick
there was no way it could be compared
to the cane. Or to having it done with so-
meone else — a man — watching.
The only thing was...but Mrs Weinl-
ing didn’t have time for any of that. Not
with Mr Seebor coming in a little while.
She had only time for...
SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!!!
She could make it really hurt even
though it was only her hand. Also the
very fact of it — your bottom bare like
this and her hand splatting down — made
you cringe, sweat. Hang on and try not
to think. It would soon be over. And
then...this Mr Seebor was due. So there
wouldn’t be time for...
 ie
res
ews ‘+tot

ey
A PUA.

SMACK!...SMACK!...SMACK!!!
Jane could hear herself making gaspy,
squeally sounds. The hand, delivered
with Mrs Weinling’s full force, stung
dreadfully. Each time momentarily flat-
tening her poor bottom with the impact.
Knocking the breath out of her. On and
on...
Mrs Weinling, breathing hard from
her exertions, finally stopped. Glanced
at her watch. Jane’s bottom was a glow-
ing pink. Mrs Weinling put her hand
back on a quivering cheek. Not a vicious
smack this time but lightly holding the
glowing flesh.
32
 a
ee

PIS
RNS

‘That will do for the moment, Jane.

That’s what naughty, careless girls have
to have, isn’t it?’
A sobbing sort of sound in reply. ‘Yes
Jane. It’s not the end of it, of course. You
need the cane as well.’ The hand softly
stroking the smooth hot flesh. ‘I shall
give you that later. After Mr Seebor’s
visit. You don’t like the cane, do you,
Jane dear?’
Another gasping sobbing sound, this
one meant to be ‘No’ rather than ‘Yes’.
‘No Jane. But a girl has to have it.’
The hand had slid down underneath. It
was pushing in between the tops of Jane’s
thighs. She gripped harder on the chair-
back. This was what she had feared, in
its way as bad as a spanking, a caning
even. Not painful; the reverse in fact.
But...she hated it.
‘Naughty girls need the cane, Jane.’
The long elegant fingers had found what
they were after. The fierce spanking had
caused some wetness there: perspiration
or something else. The fingers slid open
the lips. Mrs Weinling’s low voice: ‘Oh
dear, Jane. We’re all wet. All hot and
excited.’ The fingers working. ‘Is that
the way Mr Seebor will want you?’

* * *

Mr Seebor came at 2.30, right on time,

in a big, expensive looking black car.
Unlike Mrs Weinling’s perfect enuncia-
tion he spoke with a distinct accent: Ger-
man in fact although Jane herself would
not perhaps have been able to so define
it. He was older than Mrs Weinling, fif-
34
 +3.
i eM et es yee ee oe
Pe es eb d
a oe ee

tyish, with a small moustache and sharp

eyes behind black-framed spectacles.
Mrs Weinling was charmingly
welcoming. ‘Ah Mr Seebor. I don’t think
you have met my young lady. Jane has
been so looking forward to your visit,
haven’t you, dear?’
Jane was still feeling the effects of her
visit to her bedroom five minutes ago
with Mrs Weinling. Her face was flush-
ed as also of course was her bottom.
Unlike her face, though, her bottom was
for the moment covered up.
“Yes. Quite charming. What a pretty
girl — and such a lovely glow. What
have you been doing to her, Mrs
Weinling?’
Mrs Weinling laughed. She said she
had to go out, but Jane would look after
Mr Seebor. She would keep him enter-
tained until Mrs Weinling came back.
“‘Won’t you, Jane dear?’
Jane gave her a forlorn, helpless look.
Mrs Weinling laughed again. “Don’t look
so serious. Just do whatever Mr Seebor
wants. I’m sure he’ll be able to think of
things to keep himself amused. Won’t
you, Mr Seebor?’
The visitor smiled. Yes he could. Mrs
Weinling went out having whispered in
Mr Seebor’s ear, ‘Eighteen, Mr Seebor,
but an innocent.’ Mr Seebor sat down on
the settee. Jane could sit on his lap, he
said...

‘Mr Seebor said he was very pleased

with you, Jane. You were just how he
likes a girl. Sweet and charming. And
very attractive. He wants to come and see
you again.’
Jane didn’t answer. She didn’t want to
think about Mr Seebor, but it was im-
possible to blot it out. She shuddered.
Mrs Weinling took her arm. There was
perhaps a certain look in the older
woman’s eye. Did she know what Mr
Seebor had done?
“We'll go upstairs now, Jane dear. Our
little piece of unfinished business. We
may as well get it over with.’
In Jane’s small bedroom again. This
time it is not just her knickers down, Mrs
Weinling wants all Jane’s clothes off.
This is not really necessary, of course.
Unless it is intended simply to make
punishment more unpleasant, an extra
dimension of humiliation. But Mrs
Weinling definitely does seem to have
that extra something about her: a glint to
the sometimes icy-cold blue eyes, and
her face is somewhat flushed.
Could it be that Mrs Weinling has
somehow contrived to see — through a
hidden spyhole or perhaps a one-way
mirror — how Mr Seebor amused
himself with Jane? Or Mr Seebor might
have told her, in that private chat they
had together afterwards. Or on the other
hand it could simply be that Mrs Weinl-
ing has guessed — and perhaps it is not
difficult to guess what a gentleman will

she must submit to his wishes.

Whatever the truth Mrs Weinling un-
doubtedly has a frisson of excitement
about her. Something which is feeding
and fuelling her own planned enjoyment
of Jane. The strap first and then no doubt
other pleasures. So it is Jane’s slim nude
body that Mrs Weinling wants. As Mr
Seebor a little earlier also wanted it. And
had it.
Jane’s nude, bare-bottomed shape is
bent neatly across a pile of pillows on the
bed, and the shiny, bum-stingy strap that
Mrs Weinling smacks thoughtfully
against her palm is going to hurt — real-
ly hurt!
 ear Editor,
It was only a few months ago
ear Sirs, three-dozen times she can sing a that I first saw ‘Blushes’ and your
I am writing to thank you for selection of nursery rhymes at the other magazines. I knew the
the great pleasure you have given me base of Nelson’s Column while be- magazine existed, but at a time when
since issue 1 of Blushes, to express ing doused with buckets of ice-cold even the ‘brand-leader’ of spanking
regret at the recent softening of your water. Wet and wealed, shivering magazines is virtually rubbish, I was
content, which I sincerely hope will and sobbing, Floella must next en- not going to risk money on a
be redressed at the earliest oppor- dure six searing thwacks with a cellophane-wrapped rip-off. How
tunity, and to appeal to your readers tawse on each hand before kneeling wrong I was! Good fiction, a lively
to contribute more of my favourite on the ground, pressing her cheek (if often too brief) letters section and
‘letters’ items, namely celebrity against the paving, spreading her superb photography. On trips to
punishments and ‘adoptions’. thighs and thrusting out her cor- London I have been catching up with
rugated arse for an almighty leather- back issues and finding out just what
To deal with the latter first, I’ve been ing from the tawse. I have been missing.
hugely impressed with the letters so I think that Blushes 17 page 44 has
far published on the theme of adop- Pug-faced skater Jane Torville is your all-time best picture, of a full-
ting a teenage girl known to the surely no-one’s idea of a beauty but breasted miserable young school-
reader, especially when there have her solid bottom and thighs could mistress, standing wearing nothing
been accompanying photographs. I provide one with an entertaining but a miniscule pair of knickers that
do hope that we will one day see a afternoon. I’d like to see her made only emphasise her nudity and
photograph of the mouthwatering to bare her bottom in front of a humiliation. Almost as good is
‘Miranda’ of a while back, together roomful of dirty old men, then com- ‘Sharon’ in ‘A Ritual Caning’ (Sup-
with a few more of the unkind ‘un- pelled to adopt the most grotesque, plement 23) and I was pleased to see
cle’s wicked ideas on how to treat spread-open poses possible to ensure that the author of that excellent story
her. The second adoptee, ‘Jennifer’ that every one of those gloating knows how effective Ralgex is when
was brilliantly photographed by her bastards has a thorough knowledge applied to a girl’s most intimate
admirer, but could he please write of her every orifice. Then, lying on parts. Blushes 32 had a sequence of
again with full details of how he her back with her legs splayed either a blindfolded girl who has to strip in
would like to deal with her — clear- side of her head she can receive front of a stranger before being
ly his heart is in the right place, but dozens of meaty swipes from a lean spanked by him, rather too gentle a
he hardly did justice to his pretty riding crop until her bottom is just storyline really, but maybe you can
charge. As for ‘Katie’ as one mass of smarting weals and her feature more blindfolded girls, ful-
photographed by Michael C, words face is wet with tears. ly nude and subjected to harsher
fail me when confronted by a bottom discipline?
of such insolence and plumply ripe There are few figures on the current
whippability. There must be pop scene that arouse my interest, I also like the snow sequences. Your
thousands more unsuspecting girls but for a caning in tandem, how very first Supplement contained
out there — lets hear from all you about that sexy duo Mel & Kim? ‘Reich Girls’ — featuring a young
frustrated gentlemen and lets see the With their skirts up and knickers Frauline on duty at a gateway,
bums and faces that really get you down, stretched across desks with somewhere in the snow-covered
going. their coffee-coloured rumps out- country, wearing shoes, white ankle
thrust, they would how! deliciously socks, brief white panties and an
Talking of provocative bums brings as a couple of muscular navvies slic- arm-band. One wonders what the
me to my other pet subject; ‘celebri- ed into their defenceless arses with model thought of the photo-session,
ty’ punishment. It’s a shame that whippy canes. Filmed in sharp close- virtually naked in the snow on what
contributions on this emotive subject up and with the intensifying squeals was obviously a cold winter’s day.
are so irregular as I’m sure it is one set to a disco beat, that would be one In a similar vein was ‘Carol’s
of the themes most enjoyed by your rock video to out-sell them all! And Christmas’ in Whispers 6 — with a
readers. I don’t have a current imagine them performing it live on well developed young lady naked in
adoptee in mind but I would like to Top of the Pops! the snow. Now winter is nearly here,
add my voice to the celebrity I am sure that you can shoot some
hunters. Talking of TOTP, a brief mention further sequences.
for the sometimes presenter Janice
I totally agree that Floella Benjamin Long, who confessed in a magazine I also found the famous Question-
is a highly suitable subject for a flog- interview that every time she stands naire in Whispers 4 (reprinted in
ging. A couple of years ago one of up she is embarrassed because she Blushes 19) and have enjoyed
your correspondents imagined her thinks people are looking at her bot- reading the many answers that you
naked and caned, riding an exercise tom. If she were made to introduce published. The questions about parts
bike with a greased saddle. Unfor- the programme, not facing the of the anatomy suitable for punish-
tunately this treatment doesn’t seem camera, but bent over with her nak- ment stirred quite a correspondence,
to have curbed her appetitie for ed posterior constantly in shot, we particularly on whether a girl’s
publicity, so lets have Floella strip- would be able to judge whether she breasts are a suitable target. I fully
ped naked in Trafalgar Square, held had anything to be embarrassed agree with those who wrote that a
down a-straddle an oil-drum by en- about. And a couple of dozen with girl’s breasts must NOT be punish-
thusiastic males, and caned an XH Lochgelly would round off ed. (I did once read a claim in an
ferociously in front of the cheering the programme nicely. American magazine that tit-caning
crowds. When her rump and thighs Happy thoughts! WAS employed in one or two
have been wealed a minimum of L.C. English private girls’ schools last

38
 aspects of punishments and I am for- to allow the vest to be tucked in. it
tunate to live with a lady who is is probably wise to restrict 4th grade
prepared to go along with many of punishments to dusk onwards,
my ideas. Dee accepts that it is her though Dee has had 3-mile runs so
duty to keep fit and attractive and dressed very early on sunny
hence she is subject to a strict pro- mornings.
gramme of exercise and jogging.
What she is allowed to wear for jog- The logical ultimate punishment is
ging depends on whether she is due for the lady to be completely nude,
for punishment. apart from her training shoes. This
requires a very quiet area of town,
Her normal attire is a vest or t-shirt, though can be just the thing late on
white gym knickers, socks and a freezing winter’s night. Unfor-
trainers. Shorts are not allowed. She tunately, it is not easy to find suitable
has heavy breasts, so a bra is often roads in our area, though I once had
forbidden. I accompany her and Dee running naked for no less than
naturally I wear a tracksuit if the four miles on a holiday in Wales. I
weather is chilly. Dee is only allow- do not run with her, but drive a car
ed a tracksuit if she would otherwise ahead of her, so she has little option
be displaying marks of a recent about following!
punishment. She can certainly look
very sexy as she runs, but I am There are, of course, other ways in
always with her and we quickly pass which the jogging punishment can be
any interested spectators. However, modified. I have sometimes thought
century, but it seems very unlikely). no-one takes too much notice of jog- about experimenting with different
However, I think some cor- gers, and if she is due for punish- bras for Dee. It is easier just to for-
respondents had rather older and ment, her dress can be suitably bid her to wear one, but a bra could,
more mature young women in mind. modified, using the following instead, be very tight, or have
system. special linings. It might be in-
I believe, in fact, that CP for a girl teresting to try some very careful
should involve NO sexual or Ist Grade Jogging Punishment — bastinado on her feet before a run,
humiliatory aspects. With the more ~~ gym knickers are replaced by white but only with a strap. One thing Dee
mature young lady, it is unlikely that ordinary ‘sensible’ knickers. The certainly dislikes more than being
she will be, in reality, forced into lady will be aware that she is out, out naked except for trainers, Ralgex
punishment entirely against her will showing her knickers, though most and an appropriately positioned pair
and so it may be legitimate to apply passers by do not seem to notice the of clothes pegs!
much sterner methods. In such cir- thinner material. The vest is to be
cumstances, I certainly agree with tucked into the knickers. Of course, any jogging punishment
correspondents such as L.M. and is to be followed with appropriate
J.P.W. who had advocated various 2nd Grade — The knickers are now application of the strap, cane or
forms of breast and pussy punish- of thinner material, except at the similar implement. I had better not
ment, provided, of course, that great reinforced gusset. The vest must still be too explicit, but ‘joining-the-dots’
care is exercised. It is interesting to be tucked in. In daylight, it is now does allow leisurely application of a
note that in other, harsher, cultures, quite apparet to passers by that she range of punishments, mild or
for example the whipping of female is not wearing proper jogging gear severe. There are, however, obvious
serfs in pre-revolutionary Russia, and the occasional ribald comment limits to the punishments that can,
breast punishment seems not to have will encourage her to keep running. or should, be applied in a domestic
been at all unusual. However, safe- setting, even though I sometimes
ty must always be paramount. 3rd Grade — The knickers are made deal with Dee very firmly.
entirely of thin material and dark
Incidentally, in Blushes 20 J.S. and pubic hair would be clearly visible To see the cane bite across her
her husband wrote that they had to anyone who had a good oppor- smooth, pink bottom is a pleasure
prepared separate questionnaire tunity to look. (Dee is not allowed that I usually enjoy to the full, even
answers for girls aid young men. any body hair so perhaps this is not if it means that Dee will have to wear
Sadly, no-one responded to this and so bad, though if she were to stop a tracksuit for further jogging over
I, for one, would have been in- still she could present an even more the next few days. However, I may
terested to read their views. interesting view). More discretion is just redden her bottom with an ex-
needed now and the t-shirt can be left tended hand spanking, before turn-
Finally, my appreciation of your past outside the knickers, especially if she ing my attention to those other temp-
magazines would not be complete will have to stop to cross roads in ting targets that she will be keeping
without praise of your ‘Join-the- busy areas. After dusk, people will hidden in any case. A light strapp-
Dots’ features. Keep up the good not be sure what they are seeing ing often suffices, but as I cannot
work, perhaps with more outdoor anyway so the t-shirt or vest must really force her into any punishment.
scenes, maybe a ‘join-the-dots’ with still be tucked in. I regard her compliance as giving me
a tree. trunk in the snow? the authority to apply sterner
4th Grade — she must now wear measures when I so wish.
My intention is not, however, to very brief, entirely see-through pan-
write just on past magazines. I like ties, though she may draw some Yours sincerely,
the emphasis on the humilatory comfort from them being too brief C.D.T.

39
 stool to its usual position. “And t
means absolute and immediate obedie
at all times.’ Do you understand
Rosalind sniffed, and nodded her head.
‘Absolute obedience. Then we shall be return with the large plastic-backed hair- times. She knew it had been one dozen
pleased with you, and you will be able brush which she would find on the: slaps, because he had made her count
to leave.’ dressing-table. Rosalind Knew by now them, aloud. She ran all the way upstairs
The girl was ordered to the kitchens why the Archdeacon should request such to her room, her outstretched hands clut-
to prepare tea. she had left the an article. With very great reluctance, ched to her bottom. There would be more
room, Attwood ane
2 the she returned with the weighty hairbrush tomorrow, the Archdeacon had promis-
Archdeacon, for ti d.dealt with clutched in her hand. And then, just ed her. ‘I shall be out for most of the day,
, aes So aor her bedtime, she was put across visiting the parishes. While I am away,
ag ee: The-onl ean the house. I will
OU have
“the withitawal of priviledges have little
tees an only effective means of devine in mid-air. And that baitbrashl ng very
nese recalitrant young pe smacked against her pinkening bottom he brass
} of corporal punishment.
..i with considerable force, one dozen at door.
all its many and varied guises...’ to wait
Later that evening, after Attwood had he rear
left, Rosalind was directed to another eck the
bedroom on the first floor of thes arlotte.
, in the
ure the
ou to
nour.’
but of
§ the
es on
a
 ween the three parisheswhich
____ Archdeacon’s responsibility. She s
seem-
_ edalong way from home. And the dress
_ which her vicar had told her to wear. It
was years since she’d last worn it, at a
Christmas Parish party. She was surpris-
ed he had remembered such a detail. And
she was also quite surprised and rather
concerned to find how much she’d grown
since those days. Not the littl@gehoolsi
now. A well-developed your
in a pretty party frock. Rathe
for comfort. And short.
The Lodge was an awesome p
shivered as Attwood ushered h
steps to the front door. The Are
was just as she had remembef
St.as awesome. Not a very n

xt to the
! reason fe
Sness was the vision whick
: alkins in the dire
rl of abo
e sort of s
and rather
ds crying. “Her
Attwood informed |
Me is also here because of
aviour.” A moment la
te thought she heard a kind
echoing along the hallway.
at the vicar, and he was smili
y is the tea not ready?’ There
eiled anger in the Archdeaco
. Rosalind stared down at
Avoiding the man’s gaze, shifti
ght from one foot to the othe
m sorry. I forgot the time...’
ed to repeat her words. ‘Forg'
Forgot the time!?’ He clapped
jump, her hez
eyes staring ¢
 % J
his.“How dare you disobey me, young the door. There seemed to be a new ar- challenge and deception in her eyes.
lady! How dare you ignore my orders!’ _ rogance in her movements. Yesterday, ‘Take your shorts down.’ She put her
He leaned forwards in his armchair, ex- > she jumped immediately, whenever he thumbs under the tight waistband, but
tended his arm, and caught hold of one had given her an order. But now, she was refused to pull the shorts downwards,
of the belt-loops on the girl’s shorts, He openly defying him. She was almost shaking her head whilst still staring at
pulled her towards his chair. “You’re go- refusing to hurry. Almost cheeking him him. The Archdeacon reached to the side
ing to be punished, young lady... Ve with her nonchalent manner. sani She of his armchair, feeling for his cane. He
lifted it onto his knee. ‘Then you will be
os _caned right now. A double-caning.’
‘He took hold of her arm and pulled her
reap
; er to the occasional table, pushing her
face-down across it. ‘Stand astride the
table. Bend forward. Put your hands on
the two corners.’ She obeyed, without a
murmur. Bas Archdeacon was puzzled.
 away from her waist, and unhooked the
fastening of the shorts, tugging the gar-
ment down in one quick flick of his
wrists...She was wearing white knickers
beneath, but they looked damp, almost
wet. He pulled her across to the window,
almost as” , and turned her so that the sunlight lit the
was quivering slightly in ne air above contours of her bottom. The knickers
Rosalind’s bottom. But instead of whip- were quickly pulled down to her knees.
ping it down across the seat of the girl’s Rosalind’s bottom was thickly coated in
shorts, the Archdeacon dropped it quietly ___ a sort of transparent jelly, a substance
onto the carpet. He leaned towards the with a strong antiseptic smell. He touch-
upturned bottom. A faint smell. ed her buttock with his fing
Something antiseptic. Something vaguely the smooth substance for hi
familiar. cold against his skin. He held his hand
_ He told her to stand up. This time, up to his face, looking at ine fingertips.
"Rosalind looked a trifle uneasy. “Take And suddenly,
your shorts’ down.” The girl shook her oon” aummmememe™™'Bavertin the answer to 1 aon ‘What
head® He repeated the order, his voice‘ : ston eee you put on your bottom?’ Rosalind
- Bader and*more demanding. ‘Don’ ine it . sulked into the carpet once again, and re-
dare disobey me!” He peste her hands ~ mained silent. ‘If you do not tell me, you
-@
will
=
mo

be caned tonight, tomorrow, and

every day for a fortnight!’ Finally, her
courage failed her. “My...my boyfriend
called...while you were out...” The Ar-
chdeacon sat down and listened to the
girl’s story.
_ She had told her boyfriend that she was
~ staying at the Lodge for some while. He
was puzzled, and more than a little con-
cerned. And when he passed the house, . ‘,
\ \ndllway, he began to wipe the girl’s bot-
seeing the garage doors open, and no car ™\ tom, using a tablet of soap and the hot ©
in sight, he had gone round to the kit- damp-flannel, to wipe away the jelly.
chen door. She had told him all about the \ Saisiethat the mounds of her buttocks
punishments. The handsmackings, the ‘~ were Clear of the numbing cream, he
hairbrush, and the threat of the cane. And __ evitable pronouncements. began to attend to her lower crevices.
she had turned the tears on, pleading with “Wait here. And don’t you dare move.’ ‘Open your legs.’ She refused. He slap-
him to do something. Later, he had Adjacent to the study was a small ped her wet bottom, and she jumped
returned, a small unmarked tube in his washroom. He ran the hot tap, and held slightly. “So it’s wearing off, is it?’ He
hand. ‘Smear it all over your backside,’ a flannel under its flow. Picking up slapped the wobbling pink cheeks again.
he had told her. ‘They use it in the — several hand towels, he returned to the “You'll live to regret this deception, my
forces. Has a numbing effect on the room. The Archdeacon sat in his arm- girl!’ His fingers clutching the soap ex-
skin.” Before Rosalind was able to look chair, and placed the thickest towel, plored between her buttocks, and she
further, her boyfriend had driven off. doubled, across his knees. He told her gasped as he reached her most intimate
She finished her story, related in quiet _ to put herself across his lap, her shorts places. He soaped around the top of her
faltering statements. She hung her head, and knickers still at half-mast. Slowly, thighs, making sure that every last in-
and waited for the Archdeacon’s in- _ forgetting about his guests, waiting in the timate crease was clear of the jelly. He
 dabbed her bottom with the corner of a
fresh towel. ‘I am goingt@ you,
young lady. But not tei i:
hard, right across the cr oth bot-
tom cheeks. ‘Not yet. We shall wait un-
til this stuff has worn off completely.
And your bottom is at its‘most sensitive,
“once again, I shall deal with you.’ Angri-
ly, the Archdeacon ordered her to e hearth. There was a Si

“Mis
remove the towels, flannel and soap. ration in the way he was® ering °
“Now get the tea!’ int, rotating it upon its bee and
The Archdeacon poured himself a ' staring oung
into its head. He fancied
large whiskey before attending to his Rosdfafid like hell. She was il
_guests. That girl’s disobediénce had crack He hadn’t known her very long,
angered him. Awd that jelly. He could Knowing the morals of today’s kids, but their relationship was progressing
control his anger, bUf not without a they would have gone back to his place, very nicely. Very nicely indeed. And he:
supreme effort. She would pay for the she would have left the church communi- knew something about the Archdeacon,
deception. She would pay dearly. As he ty, and young Rosalind’s bottom would and the reputation of the vicars of
raised the glass to his lips, he wondered have gone unpunished. Langley and the surrounding parishes.
about the boyfriend. It would have been Back in Langley Hill, Rosalind’s Some while back, he had read an
so easy for her to have simply walked boyfriend was sitting in a quiet corner of editorial in the Parish Magazine. About
out. If they had driven off together, he the village local, enjoying the warmth of ‘sparing the rod and spoiling the child’.
might never have seen them again. the real log fire, hissing and crackling in The vicar had spoken about the lax stan-
 oo el ve es a om

dards of discipline in the home, and in delectable Rosalind across his knee, pro-
the community. And he had made a bably stripped absolutely naked, and he
clarion call for the return of good ‘old- was going to tan her bottom, savouring
fashioned methods of discipline.’ The every loud stinging impact of his palm
words had struck a chord with many of across her lovely round inviting curves.
the parishioners, particularly those who He had driven past the Lodge three
bore witness to the flagrant ill-discipline times, before he found the garage emp-
of the young people of the area. But for ty. He had a shrewd idea that the Ar-
Rosalind’s boyfriend, there was an ad- chdeacon intended to tan his girlfriend.
ditional interest. Because not only had The thought really turned him
Rosalind’s eyes, brown and beckoning, ©
and her bouncy lively curly shoulder-
length tresses, and her firm shapely - knowing that yenhad been sound- _
breasts invited his attentions. More than ly tanned. Then the dilemma came to
anything else, her bottom had first at- him. Yes, he would love to tan her little
tracted him. Her bouncy, cheeky, cur- bottom. He would love to slapit with his ll
vy, smackable bottom. One day, he had open hand until it bounced and wobbled
promised himself,he was going to smack across his knee, and she was telling him
that bottom. He was: going to get the to stop. But the Archdeacon? He had a
reputation. He might really hurt her.
Really punish her. And the last thing he
wanted was a” Hien Rosalind’. Last
on Rosalind’s bottom. And perhaps if she
used it once, and it worked, he might
suggest she uses it again. He would just
love to up-end her across his knee, in the
secure intimacy of his bedroom, the jel-
ly all over his fingers. He would love to
smear it all over her bared bottom, slip-
ping creamy fingers right into every
secret little crease, watching her wrig- (4
gle so EEE And then,
knowing her bottom was numb, he would
smack her. He. would tan that fantastic
little arse right into the middle of next
week.
Later, he would put her in the bath.
Perhaps entice her to stand knee-deep in
\
the bath-water, touching her toes, while
he soaped away the jelly, and pampered’ ~ I...?’ The Archdeacon told her to invite and her bottom.
the very same bottom with sweetly- his guests into the study and then to serve Brief introductions were made. Young
scented talc, before they made love. tea. She disappeared again, her ar- Charlotte was directed to the small stout
Now he was frustrated. He wished he rogance and self-confidence vanishing table. “Miscreants do NOT sit with their
was an invisible guest within the Ar- with the realisation that her bottom-flesh elders.’ she was told. She sat quietly on
chdeacon’s Lodge. He would dearly love was fast returning to its normal state of the hard oak surface of the table, and
to watch her being punished, knowing sensitivity. If anything, her bottom felt listened as the Revd. Attwood outlined
how insulted and embarrassed she would Over-sensitive, as if the removal of the again, her sins by moonlight, in the cor-
be. Yet assured that her bottom would jelly took away also her bottom’s usual ner of the meadow, under the very
suffer no real pain and no lasting harm. resiliance to pain. More than ever, shadow of the church. She felt her cheeks
Rosalind tapped politely on the door Rosalind was frightened, and very con- burning as she heard her vicar recoun-
to the study. ‘The tea is ready. Shall cerned about the Archdeacon, his cane, ting every detail. Every intimate detail.
2

r ~ {pert a eee
v=
e\
1 O’CLOCK...2 O’CLOCK...3 O’CLOCK...4 O’CLOCK...5 O’CLOCK....6 O'CLOCK

WWE
VTL
haron sat in the library, near
S= long casement windows,
Tel
eyes back to the old book. The par-
chment smelt musty. The dust of
her. It was not sleep that had sooth-
ed. Just a temporary escape from the
watching the swallows flying many years rubbed against her stress of the hour. She struggled to
south across the distant horizon of manicured fingers. She stood up and her feet. Perhaps this would be the
the estate. From time to time she opened the windows leading to the time. She waited and listened. The
forced herself to read the book, ly- cobbled patio. ‘Perhaps if I ran to the telephone placed on the side-table
ing open on the reading lectern; but hills.” She suggested to herself, quite rang and she nearly died of heart
after only one or two lines her atten- silently. ‘Then he would not be able failure. ‘Yes...’ Her fingers were
tion would wane and her eyes too, to cane me.’ From beyond the damp and shaking as she wrapped
back to the gardens and the trees, valley, but before the mountains, the them around the handset. ‘In my
those majestic plane trees lining the clock in the tower of the church study. On the next hour...’
lake, and the blue-grey mountains clanged the hour. Two sonorous
masked by the distant low cloud. chimes, distorted by the gentle warm Her mind attempted arithmetic con-
“You will be caned.’ He had made breeze that whispered along the tortions. It was just after four. So he
the announcement at breakfast, when valley. Two strokes. wanted her at five. Five strokes. She
they had sat, like strangers, at dis- remained standing beside the
tant ends of the long oak table. Carv- She forced herself to return to her receiver and allowed her hand to
ed from one single massive tree, the reading, knowing that he would be stroke the curves of her bottom and
guide book said. Admiring tourists asking her questions in but a short her thighs. Five strokes. That’s
only visitied on Saturdays and Sun- while. The language was so difficult. when she first had to see him. But
days during the low season. At other So intangible. So difficult to com- how long would it be before...
times, the Hall was for her...and for prehend. How could you understand
him. ‘I will cane you today.’ He had such a writer? She remembered what She waited in silence, unable now to
told her about her misdemeanours. he had told her, and she deliberate- read. The last time, it had been in
She had bowed her head, and had ly blinkered her vision with her the morning. In the early morning.
acknowledged each one. ‘But when . hands so that she could see only the Three strokes after midnight. When
will you cane me?’ He had held out manuscript. It was so quiet inside the she had sunk back into her
his finger to silence her. ‘Time will Old Hall. No movement. And with bedclothes, her tears had dropped
tell. Time will tell.’ the patio windows closed, no upon her pillows. She had fallen
whisper of the outside world. She asleep amid her tears, her bottom
read. She tried to concentrate. Final- wearing three stinging angry curv-
A mantel clock at the opposite end ly, her eyes closed. She slumped ing lines of crimson traversing her
of the library suddenly struck the back into the softness of the arm- fleshy cheeks.
hour. She jumped, her heart flutter- chair. The vibrant chimes of the
ing. Two strokes. She dragged her clock above the stable-block awoke At last, the hour was struck. She

1 O'CLOCK...2 O’CLOCK...3 O'CLOCK...4 Q’CLOCK...5 O'CLOCK... 6 O'CLOCK

| O'CLOCK...8 O'CLOCK...9 O'CLOCK...10 O’CLOCK...11 O’CLOCK...12 O'CLOCK
hastened along the passageway as the brushing against the curve of her He smiled, enjoying his own joke.
clocks struck one...two...three... arm. She shuddered as the distant And then he turned to his table,
four...five...She knocked upon his thunder rumbled once again. clearing away the ink-stand and the
door, too loudly perhaps. But he told leather writing wallet. The hard
her to enter. He was sitting behind The soft feminine chimes of her own wood glistened so smooth. He look-
his desk, as usual. And clutching his bedside clock gently warned her of ed at the tall clock and her eyes
silver half-hunter in his right hand. the approaching hour. ‘It is time to followed. ‘Go to the clock and
‘Almost late, Sharon. Almost late.’ leave.” The chimes seemed to tell remove the instrument’ of
She tried to apologise. ‘No time for her. ‘You must not be late.” Naked, correction.’
that, young lady. NO time at all. I her feet feeling clammy against the
have called you here to tell you to cold linoleum, her body flushed with She faltered occasionally as she
prepare. For your caning.’ He the heat of the day, of the moment, made the long walk across the room
pointed at the door behind her. ‘Now of the occasion, she tip-toed silently to the clock. Her footsteps coincid-
go.’ She hastened away, afraid that towards his room. The church clock ed with its echoing movement. Her
her late arrival would count against was always fast. Wafting on the later clammy fingers grasped the key and
her. She had less than an hour to afternoon air, she heard and counted turned it, pulling open the small
prepare. That meant it would be six. the six wavering strokes. Six door. A bright brass pendulum smil-
Six strokes. Her bottom already felt strokes. That was the promise, this ed out at her as it made its passage
sO sensitive, somehow. As though it time. She held her breath as she across its arc. Careful to avoid its
had been made very tender and ex- knocked softly against the contoured passage, she reached inside the cas-
posed. Ready for the direst punish- oak of his study door. A prickly hot ing, to the left and felt for the cane.
ment. She climbed the staircase blush invaded her, creeping like ten- Yes. It was there. Resting, deep in
towards her room. ‘At least I will not drils downwards, from her neck to the dusty heart of the clock. ‘It is
be called this evening, when the hour her pretty pink breasts. She was told time.’ He was standing close to her,
is late.’ Only once before had he to enter. Her inner self told her to his arm extended. She withdrew the
called her so late. At eleven hours. turn and run. Before the clock struck bamboo rod and passed it to him.
Her bottom had taken days to the hour. The six strokes. ‘Close the door.’ She pressed it flush
recover. She had cried throughout with the clock’s casing, gently, and
the early hours of the following mor- The room was warm, as usual. He turned the small key in the lock.
ning. And her eyes were still moist was standing there, before his desk,
as the dawn broke over the silent as usual. He beckoned to her to ap- ‘Now bend.’ Her eyes closed, she
estate. proach with the curl of his finger, bent across the hard table, which
and pointed to the floor. ‘Stand still.’ kissed cold against her sweating
She undressed quickly, discarding Silently, he walked around her, flesh despite the closeness of the
her clothes hastily, first her blouse observing her, mapping out the nak- summer afternoon. Her legs were
and skirt, and then her bra, and final- ed contours of her soft body with his straight and taut. Her body tightly
ly her little white knickers, flutter- eyes. ‘I am going to cane you, bent, her bare bottom most
ing down, then to lie forgotten, a lit- Sharon.” Her fearful eyes vulnerable. “Legs apart.’ She shuffl-
tle tangled knot of white fabric in the acknowledged his promise and they ed both feet until her firm healthy
corner of the room. It was warm, strayed too across the room to the thighs were parted just enough.
even in the Hall. The humid days of long-cased clock. “When did I cane
summer weighed heavy in the air. you last?’ She almost whispered the ‘And now we wait...’ In silence,
Occasionally, distant rumbles of answer. ‘At three...” He nodded his they waited, listening to the seconds
thunder could distract you from your agreement. “But today you have been slowly ticking by. ‘When it is the
reading. Any exertion, especially in very disobedient. Isn’t that the case?’ hour, I will cane you.’ The air seem-
the hours of the afternoon, would She lowered her head. “Yes. That is ed to shake with the echo of the
render you tired, even exhausted. the case.’ He stepped back, allow- clock’s ponderous movement. The
Even when you were naked it felt ing her to see the gaunt dark long- very table seemed to move. Her
warm in the hall. Little beads of cased clock in the corner of the body seemed to vibrate to the
perspiration glistened against her room. It seemed to command the rhythm. Her bottom seemed to rise
forehead, and her soft neck, and room. To stand witness to the and fall, second by second...
even beneath her pink breasts. She punishments which took place. An
folded her arm across her breasts as all-seeing always-disapproving eye. And then the clock struck six. Slow-
she saw her reflection in the long She stared at its gilt face. ‘Time...’ ly. And the cane kissed Sharon’s
mirror; but the soft contours of her It was the merest involuntary bared bottom, six times, slowly.
body suddenly went taut as she whisper, but he overheard her. ‘Time, the great teacher.’ He
touched herself. Little dark pink nip- whispered. ‘The great healer.’ she
ples grew firmer, more prominent, “Yes, time...“Tis time...“Tis time...’ prayed, silently.

O’CLOCK...8 O’CLOCK...9 O'CLOCK...10 O’CLOCK...11 O°CLOCK...12 O’CLOC

 Rosalind served tea. She moved
awkwardly, her bottom feeling quite raw
beneath her tight knickers and even
tighter shorts. As she bent down to of-
fer tea to the Archdeacon and his guests,
she knew they were all watching her bot-
tom. Judging its shape and size. ‘You are
both to be punished,’ announced the Ar-
chdeacon. ‘You have both behaved
abominably. You are to be punished very
severely.’ There was a sudden chill in the
air as the cleric talked to the two girls.
They shivered together. ‘Shorts and
knickers down.’ Once again, now know-
ing there was no hope of escape,
Rosalind peeled down her clothing,
revealing her bottom, her dark triangle,
her slim tender upper thighs. They were
all watching her. Even the other girl,
who looked just as frightened. They
made her take the shorts and knickers
right off. And then she was ordered to
stand by the door. The jelly was really
wearing off now. And as her full senses
returned, her bottom felt even bigger,
 bouncier and rounder than ever. She
shivered in the corner, her fingers try-
ing to hide the profuse pubic curls from
the view of the others. Even the pretty
blonde girl.
Charlotte was ordered to stand bet-
eerie: ween the two clerics. She had watched
as the other girl had undressed. She had
blushed, feeling for the other girl. And
knowing that she was vulnerable too.
Knowing that her knickers too, would
soon be fluttering down, in front of the
two men. “Remove your skirt.’ It was the
Archdeacon’s voice. She felt both hot
and cold at once. She stood up, wonder-
ing whether her legs would support her.
Very slowly, she unbuttoned her wrap-
around skirt, and took it away from her
hips. Her pretty suspenders and panties
set was revealed to the male audience.
‘And your knickers. Right down. Right
off, please, young lady.’ It took a long
time for her to ease the pretty briefs
down her slim thighs. The blood rushed

‘s.

wt
 tb her head as she stooped forward to hand was stinging, and Miss Edwards probably the devil’s!” They told her to
unhitch her panties from her ankles. Now was yeuine at the top of her young voice. take off her top. She obeyed. True to
she too was bared, ready for punishment. form, the girl was not wearing a bra. Her
Like the dark girl, who was still stan- bare breasts bobbed freely, nipples tilted
ding, shivering, in the corner of fe slightly upwards, swollen, tingling in the
room. ‘Miss Edwards is in your parish chill air. ‘So this is the body which is
Attwood. Please deal with her.’ The Ar- tempting the men of the parish!’ They sat
chdeacon reminded him of the conver- back, the vicar and the Archdeacon, and
sation they had shared the previous after- looked at her. And Charlotte tried to
noon. Charlotte was placed firmly across become invisible, her bottom stinging
Attwood’s knee. He scanned her bottom still from the double-dose of
curves, looking for the tell tale signs of hand-spanking.
last week’s caning. Her light stockings “Get across the table, you evil child!’
_and pretty suspender-belt framed her bot- Charlotte was placed across the width of
tom admirably, leaving her most tender top. “So you the table, her legs outstretched to support
curvy bottom cheeks exposed, ready for gift to men? Most her weight. “And you!’ The Archdeacon
punishment. He decided to impress the was addressing Rosalind, still standing
Archdeacon. He smacked’ her until his in the corner, aghast as she witnessed the
other girl’s punishment. She had watch-
ed Charlotte waving her legs about, try-
ing desperately to alleviate the pain in her
backside. She had never realised before
quite how revealing that sort of action
was. She could see everything. All those
feminine parts of a girl. She felt embar-

Se Ge eee
\

per
rassed, just being a witness to the other down, hissing through the chill air of the fireplace and sat down. The Archdeacon
girl’s chastisement. And she vowed she old house, landing with a stinging biting poured him a stiff drink. “Well done, Att-
would never allow those dreadful men kiss across each bared bottom. Attwood wood. Well done.’ The two girls remain-
the same sort of intimate knowledge of ensured that each girl felt the cane across ed bent across the table. Long after the
her own anatomy. her most sensitive area. Judging by caning had finished, their bottom cheeks
But that was before they bent her Rosalind’s reaction, the jelly had worn continued to twitch. Both girls were sob-
across the same table, so that her perspir- off completely. If anything, her bottom bing. Angry red tramlines of burning fire
ing skin was touching the other girl, and was rather raw and sensitive from the Ar- were criss-crossed over the extent of
she could smell her scent. Two girls, chdeacon’s rough washing-down. The their bottom flesh. Charlotte’s legs were
bent over, awaiting punishment. Two cane really stung. Every painful stroke wide apart, her secret inner lips expos-
pairs of long legs stretched out, toes dig- had her singing in pain. And the other ed, moving gently as she breathed deep-
ging into the old worn carpet. Two bot- girl offered the descant. Two nubile ly. Rosalind’s thighs remained together,
toms, bared, ready for chastisement. young women, disobedient, ill- tightly clamped, determined to maintain
Two bottoms very similar in size. Each disciplined, be badly-behaved, her feminine modesty at all cost.
with ample areas of sensitive vulnerable thoroughly caned. Wishing the strokes of Together, their bottoms almost radiated
wobbly flesh. Rosalind slightly fatter. the bamg ito the fleshy rippl- heat into the cold room.
She would be punished especially for ing bg wou d cease. Hearing ‘Get up. And both of you undress en-
that. they absolutely anything, tirely.’ They were still sobbing as
Attwood made them squeal. A stroke jus they ‘stopped caning. Charlotte and Rosalind said farewell to
of the thin whippy bamboo across young the cane towards the the remainder of their clothes. And then,
Charlotte’s bottom, and then the same for two big girls stood before the clerical
naughty Rosalind. And then a stroke for gentlemen, and were lectured intimate-
Rosalind, repeating the same, with ly about their moral behaviour. Charlotte
equivalent velocity, for Charlotte. and Rosalind stood side by side, bottoms
‘Nineteen year olds have very firm and together, breasts in line, and listened,
well-developed bottoms.’ The Ar- knowing that at any time the vicar, or the
chdeacon had told Attwood that previous Archdeacon might decide to punish them
afternoon. “It needs a very sound punish; again.
ment to keep such big girls in orde se A few miles away, Rosalind’s
caning ia a angen sa boyfriend was lying in bed, dreaming.
He was picturing his girlfriend sprawl-
ed across some ecclesiastical knee, her
_ knickers taken down, her delectable bot-

“Ppillow. He knew. V
Pete
he would do it. After all, she would thank to my bottom’ whispered Charlotte, pull- breasts would react immediately to his
him for that jelly. Apart from the em- ing the pyjama top over her head. Reluc- touch. On the opposite bed, Charlotte
barrassment, she wouldn’t feel anything. tantly and painfully, Rosalind eased was also asleep, her long hair flowing
And she quite deserved to be embarrass- herself into the shorts. Exhausted, they across the pillow. He carefully folded
ed, once in a while. crept beneath the bedclothes and even- back the bedclothes, knowing she would
Charlotte and Rosalind were finally tually fell asleep. be bare below her waist. The warm scent
sent to bed. They each clutched their own The sunlight filtered through the gap of her body touched his nostrils. The
clothing as they hastened up the stairs. between the curtains. Both girls were still girl’s exquisite limbs lay stretched
‘The room at the front of the house.’ The asleep. The Archdeacon brewed himself across the bed. He watched her, and gaz-
Archdeacon had told them. They knew a cup of tea, and then dressed. He quiet- ed at her pubic mound, knowing why the
better than to disobey. Inside the room, ly climbed the staircase towards the girl’s men were so attracted to her.
in the semi-darkness, both girls collaps- room. Attwood had left the previous It was almost an hour later, when the
ed onto adjacent beds, clutched their evening. One day, Attwood would be an girls showed signs of waking from their
punished bottoms, and cried into the bed- excellent candidate for the post of Ar- deep slumber. He told them both to get
covers. Naked, they lay together, shar- chdeacon. But not yet. He needed to out of bed. Their eyes still blurred by
ing each other’s pain. They traced the learn subtlety. He knew how to cane, but sleep, Charlotte and Rosalind extended
ridges across each other’s bottoms with that was all. There were many other their legs from the warm bedclothes,
their fingers, carefully, soothingly. They ways of dealing with recalcitrant young feeling for the bedroom carpet, and slow-
searched for clothes, having been girls. ly crawled out from under the
ordered to leave their ‘day clothes’ out- He opened the door to the girls’ room, bedclothes. The Archdeacon told them
side the bedroom door. Just one pair of crossed to the window and drew back the to kneel beside their beds. Together, they
pyjamas — a pretty jacket and shorts set curtain. Rosalind was sleeping nearest knelt, side by side, both girls still over-
— was the only fruits of their exhausti adow. She had apparently opted to whelmed by their shyness, Rosalind try-
search of wardrobes, lockers anc horts. In her sleep she wg . ide her pretty breasts, and
boards. After the caning , Swly and deeply, he , the bareness beneath her
were virtually beyond® bo and falling. Shey
modesty. ‘I couldn and smooth. He kgigy > It was the Archdeacon’s
of the day. He told them
the time, asked them why they were still the gentle warming sunlight, she was told stood before the Archdeacon, head bow-
asleep. Told them that their attitude to to remove her pyjama shorts. But the real ed. And then naked, apart from the py-
life left much to be desired. intimacy between the man and the girl jamas around her knees, she was stret-
Rosalind wasddirst across his knee. In were her breasts. He had become well- ched across the man’s knees. He smack-
acquainted with the contours of her bot- ed her. She squealed and screamed as the
tom; but although Charlotte had been stinging stripes of the past evening were
stripped, the previous evening, Rosalind revived. Just one true position for a
had yet. pretty breasts. She naughty young female: face down, and
bottom well raised, her legs waving in
mid-air, revealing lots of delightfully
feminine secrets, her bottom being
thoroughly and comprehensively
spanked.
Rosalind was put back to bed. ‘And
ou’ll stay there until I say otherwise.’
arlotte was dragged across the

sd. She wriggled and bucked and

d, and displayed the secret parts of
#irlish anatomy which many males
prayed for access to. The Arch-
eon hardly regarded a mere spank-
ing as punishment. It was merely a above them, watching them, learning there, above, watching their bottoms
“warming-up’ process in preparation for about the real intimacies of the female twitching, the criss-cross of red tramlines
the real disciplining which was to follow. form. “Bottoms were for punishing.’ mapped all over their bottom cheeks. He
Both girls would be caned severely. He That was his life-long belief. But the knew all about these two young girls. He
promised them. They quivered as the elderly cleric was still learning. He en- knew why men were so attracted to them.
man produced a coin from his pocket. joyed the opportunity to discover the true And he could imagine what their respec-
“You are both to receive a caning you secrets of the girls’ bodies. The secret tive boyfriends did, when circumstances
will NEVER forget’ he promised them, crevices and shadows which Charlotte permitted. :
as they watched the coin spinning in the and Rosalind tried so desperately to hide Charlotte and Rosalind were sobbing.
air. ‘I promise you both, you’ll find it away. As he caned them, so he exposed They had been punished. Soundly
painful to sit down for a month after I’ve them, so accomplishing true punishment.
dealt with you.’ His voice convinced Because, by the time the Archdeacon had
them that the Archdeacon wasn’t joking. concluded his punishment session,
He had the experience, and the ability, neither girl had any secret left to hide.
and the power. “Twenty-four strokes of He had watched their gyrating limbs, and
the cane each’ he promised them. ‘Now their soft, damp, glistening inner lips. He —
m

let’s see who will be first.’ The coin land- had applied his cane quite close to those
ed. The Archdeacon retrieved it. very feminine areas, provoking real cries
‘Charlotte? You will be first.’ of protest and anguish. »He had stood
Even the experienced Archdeacon , %,

learned a few facts about the female form

as he caned the two girls. His stinging.
biting bamboo bit so hard, and so deep,
penetrating the girls’ meagre defences.
They cried as he caned them, applying
stroke after painful stroke. They twisted
their bodies, trying to dissipate the pain,
2 e's

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ry,5 | Ay
se
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rw a

“Usage
-
punished. That afternoon. The Ar- That night, Charlotte crept into her
chdeacon would permit them to return home, climbed the stairs to her bedroom,
home. But they would be brought back and began massaging her punished bot-
to the Lodge if their vicars considered it tom. A few miles away, young Rosalind
necessary. Rosalind would be greeted by was relaxing in the company of her
her boyfriend who would kiss her, in- boyfriend. Charlotte’s vicar fully intend-
timately, his hands trespassing all over ed to keep an eye on her, and to
her rounded bottom curves. And discipline her fully if she ever slipped in-
Charlotte would return to her own lodg- to sinful ways again. And Rosalind’s
ings, praying for a new truck driver. So- boyfriend had already promised himself
meone who would really turn her on as that he would get his hands on her bot-
she excited him. And again, eventually, tom, come what may. And if there was
both girls would have to pay dearly for no soothing cream about at the time, too
the heights of passion they had ex- bad.
perienced. They would be back in the
Archdeacon’s clutches, being smacked,
and strapped and caned.
Archdeacon Jacobson sat back in his
favourite armchair. He was in charge of
four parishes. And in each parish he had
placed his man. One day, he would be
Bishop. And every vicar would bring to
him their young female miscreants. Un-
til that day, he would continue to en-
courage and teach. Every vicar a caning
vicar. His aim was not too utopian.
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