Feb 142014

Pandora Blake has been posting up some really excellent male bottom content on her site Dreams of Spanking, including some with the absolutely adorable Michael Darling. One of the reasons that I love Pandora’s site is that she doesn’t discriminate when it comes to a good spanking – you’ll find girls spanking boys and girls, and boys spanking boys AND girls, too. Diversity! She’s also cranked up the heat lately with a steamy explicit photoset, and always has some of the prettiest, most well-thought-out costumes and set designs you’ll find in spanking films today. Having had the pleasure of working with Pandora twice, it’s also always reassuring to know that someone is as sweet, genuine, and cool as they seem. She is.


A few previews from those hot /M scenes:



Nursing a Grudge



Military Discipline


The Baroness’ New Houseboy

Boarding School Birching

Jan 012014



In celebration of the new year and all the ones to come, the theme for this month’s spanking story writing contest is..

The Future

No, not like next month, smartass. Think a bit farther ahead. Think flying cars or living on Mars or robots that are programmed to dole out spankings; think about what the world will be in the distant future, and then figure out how to tell a good spanking story within it.

We see and read a whole bunch of ‘olde tyme’ spanking stories and ‘best of the 50’s’ stuff – let’s see what you can do without the concepts of current tradition.

I’ve come to rely on the creativity and veracity of these writing contest entrants for their abilities to weave an amazingly believable spanking story out of just about any situation they’re given, so I’ll be very interested to see what our intrepid authors come up with for this one.

As always, the winner – chosen solely by me and based on no specific criteria – will receive as his or her prize a free spanking session with me, either here in Las Vegas or any of the other cities to which I regularly travel.


And also as always, a few things to remember before you start writing:


  • Absolutely no characters or mention of characters under the age of 18. The occasional ‘like a little boy’ is acceptable, but best to keep it to a minimum.
  • Same goes for explicit genital, sexual, or graphic language references. This is about the backside, not the front side – keep it clean, please.
  • Characters may be of any gender, and spankings may be of any genre – feel free to include as many or few characters as you like.
  • Entries are not judged on length, but attention to spelling, grammar, capitalization, and the et cetera, certainly matters.
  • Contest ends January 31, 2014.
  • By entering your story to the contest, you agree to allow me to share/excerpt it here and elsewhere.
  • All entries may be emailed to me, either in the body of the email or as an attachment, at danakanespanks@gmail.com.

Now, get writing – and good luck!


–  Dana

Feb 252013

I love that a couple writers incorporated different genres in their entries to January’s story writing contest, ‘What the Camera Saw’ . In ‘A Dreadful Error’, this bad boy is punished by both his mistress AND a male disciplinarian.

–  Dana

A Dreadful Error

Mistress A was very angry with me! The pictures of her I had taken with my new camera phone had ended up on the Internet and were popping up on various tumblr sites. In vain I tried to explain that it had all been a terrible mistake, I probably should have read the instructions before attempting anything that wasn’t straightforward. However like many men I had assumed that instructions were unnecessary and had attempted to send the photos,direct from the phone to my computer, without reading them. Somehow I had posted them straight onto Facebook and although I had quickly deleted them it hadn’t been quick enough. I had never seen my Mistress so angry and I wondered what was going to happen. Would she banish me? I hoped not as I had been visiting her for a considerable length of time and enjoyed both the punishment sessions and her company in general. 

Unexpected Consequences

“Take your clothes off and stand in that corner with your hands on your head whilst I think about this” she said. As I hurriedly disrobed I felt both relief that she hadn’t just thrown me out and trepidation about what would follow.”Where’s your phone?” she said “In my jacket ” I replied, she found it and left the room. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only 10 minutes I heard her re-enter behind me. “Turn around” she said and I did so only to get a shock. With her was a man I had never seen before. I felt uncomfortable being exposed in this way in front of a complete stranger of the same sex.” This is Master James and he’s going to help me punish you and also help me film it, you either accept or leave forever”. I thought about it. I had never been punished by a man before and presumably I wouldn’t enjoy it which was clearly the idea. But what if I did enjoy it what would that mean?  Also what was she going to do with the film? In the end though I decided to go through with whatever she intended.
“This will be an extremely severe punishment carried out by myself and Master James. We will each punish you in turn and you will take it without excessive noise and thank both of us after each section, is that understood?”  “Yes Mistress” I replied ” Good then we will start with the hairbrush, get over my knees” I dutifully positioned my self over her lap and immediately felt the sting of the hair brush on my naked buttocks. It hurt and the pain increased as Mistress silently and rapidly laid on 50 strokes. “Thank you Mistress” I moaned ” Now get over Master James’ lap” she instructed and took the camera from him. Nervously I laid myself over his lap, what would this be like. It didn’t take long to find out as he brought the brush down on my bottom. The force was similar to that used by my Mistress but the feeling was entirely different. I was naked and being beaten by a man and I felt extremely vulnerable. 50 strokes later it was with some relief that I stood up. “The carpet beater next, I think” said Mistress “25 strokes each, what do you think?” The question was addressed to Master James. “Sounds good” he said with the hint of a smile flitting across his face.  “Bend over the desk” ordered Mistress and I hurried to obey. As I bent over Mistress approached and I realised she was coming in for a close up of my already red cheeks. Then handing the camera to Master James she picked up the carper beater and swished it ominously through the air. I trembled in anticipation, I knew from previous experience how painful the carpet beater was with its ability to combine the effects of both a cane and a paddle. With a thwack it impacted covering both cheeks with its wide head. I moaned softly but had little time to recover as immediately the next stroke hit. Could I take another 48 strokes like this? My buttocks already felt like they were on fire how would they feel by the end of this part of my, admittedly deserved, punishment. Moaning and groaning I managed to last through to the end of her section but I knew the strokes from Master James would continue to build the agony in my poor belaboured bottom. As she handed the carpet beater to him and took the camera I considered appealing for mercy but I knew it would do no good.The strokes from Master James rained down on my cheeks and upper thighs. “Stop wriggling” said Mistress and I tried to obey but I was nearing the limit of my endurance. Finally to my great relief the final stroke fell. “Thank you Master”  I said “I do like the carpet beater” Mistress said “it leaves such interesting weals” and she ran her hands over my bottom, to my horror Mister James then did the same and I shivered. “Right we will have a break before the final part of your punishment, Go and make us both a cup of tea, Master James takes it with milk and 2 sugars” Gingerly I made my way to the kitchen and still naked prepared 2 cups of tea. As I returned I saw Mistress still filming and Master James swishing a cane through the air. I handed them their tea and was ordered to go and stand in the corner whilst they drank it.As I stood there I could here them discussing my punishment and the state of my buttocks. I also reflected on the days events. Being punished by a man as well had changed the dynamic completely. I felt ashamed to be in this situation and had to admire the decision of my Mistress to include him as it had turned something I would have enjoyed normally into a proper punishment. How was it going to end though? I soon found out!

A Painful Conclusion

“Turn around” said Mistress A and I did so, both she and Master James were holding canes. “You are going to receive 36 strokes of the cane from us now, bend over the desk” As I bent over I saw Mistress putting the camera on a shelf from were it would film me being beaten without anyone holding it. She took up position on my left and Master stood to my right. The 1st stroke whirred down and the pain took my breath away but immediately I received another stroke from the other side. The rapid fire beating continued with virtually no time between each impact. It was excruciating but so fast that I couldn’t even catch my breath to moan. My legs were shaking and I knew that soon I would try to escape from the relentless  thrashing. Fortunately the punishment ended and I just about remembered to thank them both. I was ordered back into the corner and heard Mistress fiddling around with something. I realised she was downloading the film onto her computer. “Come over here” she said and I did so, taking a seat between them on the sofa. The film began and I blushed furiously as I watched my moaning, squirming and my increasingly welted cheeks. ” I’m going to keep this and if there are any further incidents or indiscretions from you I will post it on the Net” she said and Master James smirked. As I slowly got dressed I knew she didn’t need to worry, I had learned my lesson. In the future I was going to make absolutely certain I knew what I was doing before I put anything onto my computer. Walking away from her flat I was grateful that she had punished me and then forgiven me. I had endured a beating from another man and found it uncomfortable but bearable. I knew that I would have to think about my feelings about that in more depth. So with plenty to ponder I started the long journey home.
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Feb 162013

Here, you’ll find yet another reason why judging the January’s story writing contest, ‘What the Camera Saw’ was so difficult. I know you’ll love ‘The Time Elapsed Cane’.

–  Dana

The Time Elapsed Cane

It ended up being the best idea I’d ever had, though at the time, I thought I was just indulging a minor whimsy. A very long time ago I’d had day dreams about being a videographer and making amazing films that would be known the world over but even then I’d known it was just a passing fancy. When I saw the sign for continuing education classes at the local community college, I initially thought I’d do something sensible, like learn a foreign language or maybe take a yoga class. Then I saw the little blurb for the videography class and some small, long forgotten spark of a dream flared up momentarily.

It was absolutely ridiculous and completely impractical but something in me called for me to take the class, to at least indulge the long ago fantasy for a few weeks. The school let students use the school’s equipment for the class so I wouldn’t even have to spend any money beyond the minimal cost of the class and the gas to get to and from classes once a week for six weeks. I decided to go for it.

It was amazing. It was frustrating. It was a dose of reality tempered with a giant helping of fun. I realized that I would never be a great videographer, able to travel the world over and make films about giraffe fights1 or civil protests2 but I would be able to make fun little films about Frisbee contests with friends and piece together tiny clips to make cohesive YouTube videos complete with some specially selected song in the background. I wouldn’t be famous, but I would definitely enjoy myself.

When the class was over, I put a bit of money aside from my next couple of paychecks then went out and bought a small hand held camera so I could keep playing around with filming. I did some filming and short videos and then I decided that just for fun, I’d like to make my own time-elapsed video, which was something we’d covered the basics of in class, but which I hadn’t had much practice in doing.

The trick of the matter was finding someplace I could set up the camera without it being disturbed. I didn’t want to just set up the camera indoors pointed at a wall. I wanted something scenic, something worth watching. In the end I decided to be cliché and film a sky shot of some kind. The easiest place to set up a camera for that was in my office at work because it had a decent view only partially blocked by the neighboring building whereas my apartment’s view was totally blocked by buildings. Also, if I left the camera sitting out at home, there was no guarantee that the cats wouldn’t knock it over while I was at work.

I only wanted to do a short video, so I knew I’d only need one day’s worth of footage, which was a good thing since my camera battery wouldn’t last long enough to run for several days. There was a small table already by the window and by sliding the plant that was on it over a few inches I had the perfect spot for the camera. It could be aimed directly at the sky, with the view only partially obscured by the building nearby. I realized as I set it up that I would be filming any activity within the corner office of that building, but it couldn’t be avoided. If any people were in the shot, I already knew how to blur faces and this was a film just for fun so I doubted I’d do anything with it.

I thought it would be hard to leave the camera alone that day but thankfully there was a lot of work to be done (a sentiment I don’t often express) so I was busy. By the end of the day, I was so ready to leave that I almost forgot the camera entirely. I’m glad that I didn’t because it gave me something to do that night. And what I found when I went through the footage after dinner made me forget my tiredness entirely.

I was just letting the film run for a few minutes at a time and then jumping ahead to see how the sky progressed, as some clouds moved in and out of the shot and the light changed with the passage of the sun, when I saw it — the movement that caught my eye and captured my attention.

It was a man and he was swinging something. At first I thought maybe he had a baseball bat in hand. The shot had been set wide to maximize the view of the sky and I had ignored the corner office. But there it was, at the edge of the shot.

I had to squint at the screen to see it. Then, suddenly I realized that there was another person in the office, in front of where the man was swinging. And that was no baseball bat. It was a paddle!

A jolt of excitement shot through me. I quickly started fiddling with settings, taking the film back a few minutes and letting it run again. I peered closely at the screen and watched again as the man swung and connected. He was paddling someone! Right there in the office across the way from mine and he was paddling someone. He didn’t even bother to close the blinds.

Unfortunately, because I’d thought the most interesting thing to film would be the sky, the camera’s wide-angle setting meant the film’s resolution of the scene was horrible. I could make out that there was a paddling of some sort going on, but I couldn’t really get the details. And I realized that I desperately wanted some detail on that shot. So I did what any insensible and truly idiotic but very excited person would do…I took the camera back in to work with me the next day.

My boss would have been pleased to note that I got there early. She’s a stickler for things like punctuality. My reason for being punctual might have been considered problematic, I suppose, but at the time I was too excited to think about things like that.

This time, I aimed the camera directly at the corner office. I knew it was a terrible invasion of privacy, but I was just so curious about what was going on that I didn’t let that bit of guilt stop me from acting. Then the work day began.

I was incredibly distracted for the whole day. So much so that my supervisor noticed it and commented on it twice. I tried to concentrate, I really did, but all day I thought of almost nothing else but that camera and what might be going on in that office. I even looked out the window to see if there was anything happening, but every time I looked, the office was empty or else there was just a man working at a desk. I assumed he was The Paddler, as I was calling him in my head now. But there was nothing interesting to see and my staring out the window so much was another thing about which my supervisor commented.

At the end of the day I grabbed the camera and practically flew out of the office, leaving my desk a mess behind me and promising myself I’d work on getting it cleaned up the next day.  I just had to get home and see what I had filmed. Maybe it was a fluke, a once in a lifetime happening, but maybe, just maybe, it was a regular enough occurrence that I had managed to film something really interesting.

Starting the film I could tell that it really was a good shot now that I’d zoomed in and focused on the corner office. With the blinds open, you could see just about everything that was happening but most of the day was just The Paddler taking calls and doing paperwork with a few people stopping in to talk. He was clearly an older gentleman, distinguished looking and business-like in his suit. Since he had a corner office, I could only assume he was someone with some sort of authority and power since they didn’t give corner offices to anyone.

I fast forwarded through the film, past all the scenes of The Paddler merely working, for I was sure it was him in that office most of the day. Then, around the same time as the paddling from the first film, something happened.

A younger man came into the office and he looked nervous. Even before anything happened I knew I’d struck gold and stopped fast forwarding, letting the film progress at its normal pace.

Some sort of discussion was taking place. The younger man was shifting nervously from foot to foot as he stood in front of The Paddler’s desk and he kept fidgeting, straightening his tie, tugging on his jacket , glancing just past where The Paddler sat, and looking like a man who’d rather be anywhere else. Eventually The Paddler made a gesture, a sort of directive wave of his hand and the younger man’s whole demeanor slumped in a clear sign of defeat.

As The Paddler rose from his desk, the younger man stepped closer to the desk and bent over it. I could tell the young man had a fit form, but the angle was perfect enough that when he bent over it was readily apparent that he had a rather shapely bottom that filled out his trousers nicely in that position.

The younger man was bent over the desk with his hands reaching across to grip the far side and his chest pressed flat against the hard surface. The Paddler didn’t even bother to take off his jacket as he came around the desk, just reached and pulled the paddle from a section of wall near the window where I couldn’t see from my angle, but I realized now was what the younger man had been glancing at while he was standing in the middle of the office before. It looked like an old style school paddle, long and broad, and I could tell it was the sort of thing that would definitely make an impression.

The Paddler positioned himself to the side of the younger man and leveled the paddle he was holding at the younger man’s bottom. Then he swung.

Even without sound, even filming through two windows at a distance, and even though I was watching the film hours after the occurrence, I winced at the impact, imagining a loud Crack! noise going off in the room. The Paddler was taking his time. After the first swing, he spoke for a moment and then nodded, apparently at some response from the younger man. He raised the paddle again and brought it down just as hard.

My own bottom felt like it was tingling with imagined impact. I felt like squirming in my chair, full of sympathy for that poor man who actually had to feel the reality of what happened.

There were six swats with the paddle in all with a pause for comment and response after each of the next couple of swats. After the fourth swat and a quick discussion, the fifth and sixth swats were delivered rapidly with no pause between them. They didn’t look like they were any less powerful for the speed of delivery.

The younger man slowly straightened after that. He tugged his jacket down and straightened his tie with the look of someone who would rather be rubbing his bottom but knows that’s not allowed so he was occupying his hands otherwise. The Paddler stepped away while this was happening and went back to hang the paddle back up on the wall. Then when the younger man had regained his composure (though I noticed his hands kept straying ever so slightly towards his backside), the two men spoke for another moment and shook hands. The younger man left the office walking stiff legged and gingerly, still keeping his hands from rubbing his painful posterior.

I may have replayed the scene a time or two…or ten. I didn’t really keep count. Then I compared the first video and the second. It was hard to tell, given the wideness of the first video, but I wasn’t entirely sure it was the same younger man in both videos. In the interests of scientific inquiry, I recharged my camera’s battery and took it back to work with me again.

I was distracted again at work. Now I had the mess from the day before to sort through on top of that day’s work and I was turning to look out the window more and more often as the day progressed. My supervisor finally gave up on commenting about my distraction around mid-day. With two videos to judge from, I had a fair idea of what time anything interesting might be happening, but as luck would have it, there was a meeting called during that time frame that I couldn’t avoid.

I have no idea what was said in the meeting as I kept wondering what was going on in The Paddler’s office but I was the first to leave the room when it ended, rushing back to my desk and the window to see if anything was happening. My bad luck held out though and I saw nothing of interest. It made me impatient to get home and check the film.

I hurried out again at the end of the day and my desk was still a terrible mess. I’d gotten some of the previous day’s backlog taken care of, but there was still a great deal to be gotten through. With an inward sigh as I got on the elevator, I promised myself I’d be in early the next day to at least straighten things out and prioritize the work before the regular work day began.

My theory about it being different men being paddled turned out to be correct. I was no less fascinated watching this new day’s film than I had been with the two previous days.

This time there was less talking. The younger man had barely come into the room when The Paddler made that directive gesture with his hand, plus an extra flourish I hadn’t seen the day before. The younger man was apparently familiar with it though because he flushed a dark red (and I was amazed at the quality of the film given that it was not a top quality camera I’d bought). Then the younger man unbuckled his belt and let his trousers drop to the floor as he approached the desk and bent over it in the same position as the man from yesterday, with his hands gripping the far edge, his chest flat to the hard surface, and his boxer clad bottom stuck out behind him making a perfect target.

The paddling went on for longer as well. I counted a good fifteen swats before The Paddler stopped for good, and this was not the leisurely paddling of the day before with long pauses between each individual swat. The Paddler would give two or three hard swats before pausing and these pauses were not nearly as long as yesterday’s had been. The last five swats had pauses alright but they were almost like punctuation, a quick break in the paddling for the sake of The Paddler’s rhythm, not any sort of mercy for the poor man on the receiving end.

What made this paddling so fascinating to me though wasn’t the paddling itself, though it looked incredibly painful and had me wincing in sympathy again. No, the part that was fascinating to me was what happened after the spanking.

Yesterday, The Paddler and the younger man simply shook hands and the younger man walked painfully out of the office. Today though, when The Paddler was done, the younger man didn’t immediately straighten up and redress himself. He stayed bent over the desk and I got the impression that it wasn’t the pain of his bottom keeping him there.

The Paddler moved closer and stood next to the younger man and even rubbed the small of his back a bit, giving him time to calm down and when the younger man finally did stand up properly it was apparent that he’d been crying. But he did his best to calm down and clean up, pulling his trousers up and refastening the belt, and wiping off his face. Then The Paddler hugged him, actually hugged him!

For a moment it was like my world had gone askew. True, I’d been watching the paddlings with great interest but I have to admit I hadn’t thought very good things about The Paddler himself. He’d seemed like a great demon to me, a brute who was horribly punishing his subordinates, yet here was proof that he actually did care. It was an incredibly touching scene and I couldn’t bring myself to watch it more than once, feeling very deeply that I was watching something personal and private.

It made me rethink the way I’d been filming the corner office all week. Yes, the first time had been inadvertent and I hadn’t known what was happening but the second and third films were deliberate and invasive. I felt a bit dirty for my voyeurism. That guilt on top of what I had already been carrying with regards to the work left undone on my desk the last two days had me in a somewhat morose mood as I entered the office the next morning.

I had at least managed to stay true to my promise to myself to get in early to try to clear up the mess. But to my surprise, there were lights on in the office already, despite the incredibly early hour. Normally no one came in for another hour at least, more likely not for another hour and a half. It was startling to arrive expecting to be alone and then to find someone else already there. Not to mention it took a little of the wind out of my sails. I’d been feeling a little bit of the smug virtue that comes from doing just slightly better than one’s colleagues. Finding someone else there already got rid of that feeling pretty quickly and I was left with my morose guilt again.

I decided to go to my desk and get to work instead of finding out who it was that had stolen my thunder, but before I got even halfway there I heard my name being called out. I turned to look and realized that the other person in the office already was my boss.

“Would you come into my office for a moment, please?” She said it in a way that was more a directive than a request and I felt obliged to obey, though my pace in getting there was not as swift as it could have been.

She stood waiting till I entered her office, then shut the door behind me and sat down behind her desk. She did not offer me a seat so I stood there nervously before her, well aware of my shortcomings that week and knowing that I had no good excuse for them. Some small part at the back of my brain was also aware that this nervous standing and fidgeting was very similar to what the young men I’d seen had done before their paddlings. It was a silly thought, but even as my boss began speaking it lingered with me.

She made perfectly plain that she was aware of my shortcomings. She listed the things I had left undone for two days in a row and she had a full accounting of every time my supervisor had spoken to me about my distracted state and my lack of productivity. It made me cringe internally to realize how well she knew what had been happening since I hadn’t thought anyone other than my immediate supervisor had noticed anything.

Then, just as I was falling into a state of abject misery, with the full list of my shortcomings laid out before me, not to mention my boss’s knowledge of them, and a growing certainty that I was about to be fired or at least have some sort of official disciplinary report filed against me, she asked me a question that completely startled me out of my inner litany of failings.

“And just what is it that you’ve found so interesting to watch out of your window this week?” She looked at me expectantly as she asked it, though her tone and body language signaled clearly that she already knew.

I blushed, my red face giving away the answer before I could even think to verbalize the lie I wanted to say. She had a look on her face that turned into a stern frown, though initially I could have sworn she had been fighting a smile.

“I happen to know the gentleman who’s in the corner office across the way. He has an interesting arrangement with some of his employees. Know anything about that, young lady?” Her tone was not quite severe, but it was firm and it made plain that prevaricating would not do me any good so I simply nodded in reply.

“As you no doubt noticed, he paddles different people every day. That’s because he has a system of mentorship. It’s designed to help young men in his company who he thinks have promise but who need a guiding hand to help them perform to their absolute best. He keeps track of each mentee’s progress throughout the week and each of them sees him on a different day to discuss everything that’s gone on during the week and take care of any necessary punishment.”

This explanation made sense and it certainly explained what I’d seen on the films. I did wonder what the young man from yesterday had done to deserve such a harsh paddling though.

My boss was looking at me expectantly and though she hadn’t asked me any questions, I nodded again. This time she did smile at me.

“I happen to think that mentoring younger members of the company is a good idea and have a similar method of problem solving.” She rose from her desk and lifted an object off a hook on the wall behind her. I hadn’t noticed it until that moment because it was so slim and its light coloring helped it blend with the neutral color of the office wall.

“This, my dear, is a cane. It stings a great deal more than a paddle and is best administered on the bare bottom.” I looked at the implement she was holding with my mouth somewhat agape though I shut it with an audible click when I saw the look of amusement on her face.

“I think you ought to know that I think you have a lot of promise and will go far in the company if only you’d learn to focus better on your work and ignore unnecessary distractions.” The smile she gave me now was utterly genuine and her tone of voice was caring. Then she raised her eyebrows at me and nodded at her desk, a gesture that was clearly asking me to submit and not ordering me to it.

I took a deep breath as I let all the thoughts of the last few days run through my mind, of the paddlings I’d witnessed and that one wonderful hug. Then I thought of the feelings of failure and moroseness I’d been having that morning. As I let out the breath I nodded and stepped up to the desk. Even without having to be reminded, I recalled her words from a few moments before about the cane working best on the bare and reached to unfasten my trousers and let them slip down before bending over as I’d seen the younger men do in The Paddler’s office.

Given her comment about the cane hurting more than the paddle, I expected immediate pain and gripped the far side of the desk tightly. But the first contact I felt made me jump out of startlement and not from pain. Her hand ran lightly over my bottom and then I felt her fingers slip into the waistband of my panties, drawing them down over my bottom to rest in the hollows of my knees. I heard her instruction not to rise and nodded, my grip on the desk becoming fierce enough that the whites of my knuckles were showing.

Then the pain came. It was a hot, fierce white line of fire and agony. If my hands hadn’t had a death grip and apparently been operating under different instructions than the rest of my body, I would have risen. Instead, I jerked up slightly off the desk and then thumped flat back onto it.

There was a long pause as I lay there, the realization that the pain was increasing with the delay instead of decreasing having just enough time to seep into my brain before the next hot flash of pain struck, slightly below where the first had landed. This time it took conscious effort to keep my hands gripping the desk and my body relatively still.

The third and fourth strokes were just as terrible and I was sure that I would not be able to bear any more. However, just as I reached that conclusion, I felt a strong, cool hand pressing against my back and holding me down against the desk.

“You’ve done very well. Better than I expected for your first time but I’m going to give you a hand for these last two. Just two more and we’ll be done and then the slate will be wiped clean. I’ll still expect you to catch up on your work, but we’ll say no more about the last few days. Just hold on a moment longer.”

A couple of tears escaped from my eyes as I nodded my understanding into the desk and I tried to brace myself for the last two strokes.

She didn’t disappoint in laying them on. The fifth was a line of vicious fire laid just beneath the previous stroke and it was perfectly placed on the crease of where my bottom and thighs met, guaranteeing that I’d be feeling it for days. The sixth stroke was its own new form of agony as it was laid not horizontally below the fifth stroke but diagonally across all five of the previous strokes making all of them feel as though they’d come alive all over again.

I jerked up on the desk, my hands coming free of their own volition but her firm hand kept me pressed down a moment longer. Then cautiously, when I was relaxed against the desk, the hand lifted off my back and I felt my panties being drawn back up and into place. I hissed in pain as they made contact with the fresh lines on my bottom.

Her hands helped me straighten up, though I winced at the movement, and when I was standing properly, she pulled me into a tight hug like the one I’d seen The Paddler give. It was warm and comforting and full of forgiveness. It made my formerly cringing insides feel infinitely better. After a long time, she finally pulled away and took my face in one of her hands, using her thumb to wipe away the tears still slowly trickling out of my eyes.

“There now, isn’t that better?” she asked.

I nodded. I felt much better now that I knew the slate had been wiped clean though I could already tell that sitting for the long day of work was not going to be easy.

She stepped away and went to hang the cane on its hook behind her desk while I managed to pull up my trousers and fasten them again, wincing as the material pressed against my sore bottom. Then I stood waiting while she reseated herself at her desk.

“Well then, young lady, I certainly expect that you’ll make a good deal of progress today in getting caught up to where you ought to be. Also, you should be aware that I have a system for my mentees. While I’m available at all times to deal with major problems,” she said this with a very stern look at me, “for the day-to-day issues, there are assigned days. Yours is now Thursday. You’ll get a calendar appointment in your email to let you know what time I expect to see you back in here for another discussion next week.”

I nodded. Nodding seemed to be the safest thing to do in this office. She tilted her head at me with an odd sort of smile.

“Maybe once you’ve been here a time or two you’ll lose a bit of your reticence and actually talk instead of nodding.” She laughed a moment and though I could tell it was about me, it wasn’t at me.

“Right then, remember that I’ll be watching.” I could tell that was a dismissal so I walked painfully to the door, just as I opened it, I heard her say in a teasing tone behind me, “Please remember to close the door on your way out.”

In that instant, the momentousness of what had just happened hit me and feeling light-hearted I turned back with a cheeky smile. “Yes, ma’am!” I responded, putting as much teasing into the statement as I could and pulling the door shut on her startled expression. I heard her laughter even through the thick door as I began making my way to my own desk and my day’s work.

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Jan 302013


As we’ve been discussing M/M spanking a bit lately, one of my correspondents decided to send along this wonderfully-written story – in the beginning, ‘Visit to the Study’ looks like a straightforward F/M spanking story – but wait…

(Asterisks are my edits for slightly naughty language.)

Visit to the Study

Tony  Grainger had been elected to serve on the City Council as an Independent. He would take his seat at a Council meeting in less than two weeks and there were a number of things he needed to arrange in preparation for that day. 

He had opened a new account at a different bank so his financial history would be clean and he had placed his two rented properties into a blind trust so that his rental income would not be questioned. He had cleaned out the house where he lived and bought a new computer. The old pc was opened up and the hard disk destroyed with blows from a hammer. The sex toys and videos which he had collected over the years had all been taken to the dump, which was a pity, as they were all quite expensive when new. 

Tony was nothing if not a careful planner. He had conjectured that if he had an accident or was taken ill then, inevitably, a friend or colleague from his political party or from the council might enter his house on some helpful mission and discover his passions, which might then make public life very difficult.

Now that his journey into politics was finally started, and it was one which he hoped  would lead eventually to Government, in the major league, so he did not wish some extraneous noise about sex and a perceived kinky deviation to come out in the press. 

From now on he had to be squeaky clean. 

At his age, now 32, it was still just about OK to be a bachelor, but in a few years time this would be questioned as lacking commitment. He had noted in his mental agenda to start looking for a girlfriend in a serious fashion.

So, now that the planning and cleaning up of his affairs was nearly complete, all that was left to do, before he took on the persona of  a Mr White, was to pay one last visit to the person, who in the recent past, had satisfied his Mr Black needs. 

If this was to be his last participation in the spanking scene, at least for the foreseeable future, he wanted it to be a very satisfying experience and a long lasting one in his memory. He sent an e mail to book the appointment at The Study, received the confirmation and then closed this e mail account which had only been used for ordering goods on the net and for contacting the specialist service providers and spanking video sites. He knew that he could not wipe his background totally clean but he could at least make it more difficult to discover.

The Study was a favourite of his. The domain of a consummate professional in the arts of discipline.  It was a 100 mile road trip so he usually stayed over at a B&B to savour the pleasure of his visit. When he arrived on time at the detached house, in the small town of Melville and rang the bell, the door was opened by Madeline wearing a subdued outfit of black skirt, grey sweater and high heeled shoes. 

Tony placed his monetary tribute in an envelope on the silver platter in the hallway on top of the dresser unit. He followed Madeline to bathroom and proceeded to get ready. He was already wearing the long grey trousers, dark blue jacket, crisp white shirt and regulation necktie, which might be considered as smart weekend attire for an adult, but also presented him nicely in the schoolboy role he would soon be adopting. He removed his trousers and underwear and washed himself thoroughly using water and wipes. Then he took the new packet of ladies tights from the carrier bag and placed his own pants back inside the bag. Sitting on the lavatory he pulled on the nylon tights and stood to adjust them. His legs and genital area were shaved of hair as required by the patron of the house. Adjusting the waistband of the nylons he luxuriated in the warmth and tightness of the fabric around his bottom. He pulled on his clothes again, replacing the grey socks on his feet, checked that his shoes were shiny and made his way back down the hallway.

In response to his knock on the study door Madeline called out to enter. For this afternoon she was to be the School Secretary and she adapted to the role admirably.

“Ah, Grainger – here again I see.”

“Yes Miss.” 

Tony stood in the centre of the large front room on a rug of Indian or Persian origin. The large desk was placed across the front of the bay window and the rest of the furniture consisted of a dark brown leather armchair and a long bookcase against one wall. Fixed to one of the walls was a large wooden cupboard.

Madeline spoke again in clipped tones, so that each word penetrated his brain like a dagger.

“We have the note from your class teacher. You have been persistently cheeky I understand and have answered her back during two lessons. This is not the first time you have been sent here by Miss Marshall is it?”

“No Miss.” 

“I understand that your parents are moving house and you will be leaving school at the end of the term. So we had better try and drive some good manners into you before you depart, had we not?”

“I suppose so Miss.”

“You had better buck your ideas up young man. Supposing is not good enough.”

Tony stood there. The icy fear of what was about to happen enveloped him. Not for the first time in this room he wondered whether he should try and escape the consequences of his visit.

“Remove your blazer, shoes and socks.”

He started the disrobing process, folding each item carefully onto the arm of the leather chair, placing his shoes nearby on the floor. Eventually he stood in just the shirt and tie and trousers.

“Go to the desk.”

He moved across the room to stand about two feet from the edge of the large desk. 

Madeline came up behind him and unfastened the belt buckle of his grey school trousers. As she pulled them slowly down towards the floor, *** which was trapped in the tights. 

“You boys do seem to get excited about punishment don’t you?” she whispered in one ear. “I am sure it will disappear soon enough.” 

She pushed his back and he bent in position, knees locked, legs straight and his elbows on the top of the desk with the palm of his hands flat on the leather top. Madeline took a look around the room and then pressed a small button the wall to indicate that all was ready.

Tony knew that they would both have to wait. He stared at the window and thought about the other times he had been in this position waiting to be thrashed. Not for the first time he wondered what on earth he was doing. As the minutes ticked by he remembered the two occasions when he had paid extra fees to watch Madeline receiving the cane. The scenario had been that they were both Seniors at  school, older  pupils caught in flagrante, kissing, drinking and smoking.  As he thought about her blue knickers being slowly pulled down when she was bent over this same desk, her pale bare bottom being gradually exposed, ***.  This was indeed the stuff of erotic memories.

His day dreaming stopped when he heard the click of the door, opening and then closing. Then there was the noise of the cupboard latch and the rattle of the cane as it was lifted from its hook. He could just about identify each cane in The Study by the different swishing sound they made in the air. As the selected cane was swung once, twice, three times through the air he knew this was the thin, senior dragon cane. It hardly made any noise as it disturbed only a small amount of air when it curved and then straightened out in the vertical swipe.

“We have a rather naughty boy here,” Madeline spoke. “He is due 24 strokes.”

As Tony lifted his head and straightened his back he caught sight of the tall figure behind him, a reflection in the glass of the window. He tensed his cheeks as the point of the cane tap-tapped against his bottom. This was it, he thought, no going back now.

“Very well.  Thirty second intervals I think. Be so good as to count the strokes Madeline.”

The Headmaster spoke in a deep voice as the first searing stroke landed perfectly central across the crown of Tony’s bottom. He was back in heaven as the tight lacing of the cane shot through his body and the pain flooded into his mind.
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