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Spanking story

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Spanking Story Video

Saturday Spanking Stories from the Old Days

Whatever the case,it is always lovely to see and read your posts here and,indeed,the comments of everyone else on here.

Respectfully yours, Bob. Bob, you never tire of asking questions! This photo story is imaginative and well presented.

Joanna is very beautiful girl with a gorgeous bottom made for the cane. She is well dressed and reveals nice lingerie that also reveals her intimate parts.

The tan lines on her bottom add to her beauty and, as I know, an experienced caner can make the most of that target.

Her downy hairs on her legs and bottom and her full thick bush are lovely. The strokes of the cane are genuine as are her tears.

The various positions adopted offer ideas to any of us to use and I suspect she enjoyed CP even before doing this photo story.

Do we know who caned her? Yes I have bent over a chair many times for the cane including when It is a stable position.

Some of the positions she uses are traditional but others do more to reveal her intimate parts that provide an improved target.

Thanks for posting back. I also think that bending over a chair is a pretty ideal position really. Quite classic actually. I really am sorry for always asking questions.

Partly it is because I am pretty inquisitive and partly just because I enjoy reading your opinions and am still grateful for all your insightful earlier posts.

Not many ladies would bother to correspond to the extent that you have and do on this sort of subject matter,Judy and I respect and admire you for that.

Thank you once again as ever for your interesting comments. With all good wishes from Bob. Bob I understand your need for answers. Have you ever caned or spanked a woman?

It would be nice to see other female readers adding their views. Lovely to hear from you,as ever. I agree that it would be great and most welcome if more ladies would post here on this blog.

Milady de Larmes is a very regular "voice" here but other than her and your good self,of course,the female presence is quite limited really,which is a real shame.

I think,perhaps sometimes with good reason,that some ladies not all may feel nervous or whatever about commenting.

That is why for my own small part I always endeavour to try and be as welcoming,polite and friendly as possible when posting to anyone here obviously,but extra so towards ladies to I can only hope make them feel relaxed and happy to chat and banter here with us chaps and also in the hope of encouraging more ladies,Judy.

That is why I always try to be kind and polite when I post here;in order for my small part to try and encourage a nice,friendly forum. I have not had anywhere near as many exciting spanking experiences as you,Judy but yes I have had a few spanking adventures,including one weird but fun occasion where I caned a girl over her jeans with a length of bamboo.

In all honesty,my adventures in real life are pitiful compared to those that you have been so kind to share,Judy.

I can expand on all this with you if like but don't want to bore you. Sadly,I have only ever spanked one girl on her bare bottom and she didn't like it,so that was that,alas.

Her hands grasped the seat cushions ever tighter, her face turned away from where Jenkins stood so could not tense and tighten as she saw him move again to apply another of those agonising impacts.

Still, she was aware that he had stopped, and moved more behind her and looking carefully at her. But, no she realised, only half-way through. Jenkins was assessing the marks so far, and she felt the touch of his hand as he examined the balance of the impacts across both buttocks.

Soon, however, the ordeal began again. A slightly faster tempo this time, marking its staccato rhythm of swish, crack, yelp, wriggle, and increasing thump as her feet drummed the floor.

Another six done. And now the full acceleration, stroke following stroke before the convulsions from the previous had passed out of her body, her back arching, legs trembling, buttocks shaking.

The last six strokes came in a single flow of pain. It took her a few moments to examine her circumstances.

The pain had stopped flowing in. The ache and growing dull thud would remain, perhaps for a few days. Finally stifling the incipient tears, she turned her head back towards the room, where Jenkins stood waiting.

Lady Sternmore pressed herself up from the seat cushions, and felt the movement of her skirts dropping back over the lines of her punishment.

She carefully re-secured her knickers, and shook down her skirts fully, wincing as she did so. I have kept on meaning to update this blog for quite a while, but various very busy events have got in the way.

In the meantime, I thought I might share some of my Digital Images — you can find them all over on my DeviantArt page, if you want to see more.

Hard work, good behaviour, and a scrupulously fair approach by the staff had kept her clear of sufficient levels of trouble to avoid any painful encounters with such objects as slippers, belts or canes.

It is perhaps therefore somewhat unfortunate that an end of term Christmas party got the better of her, and while taking place off site, and thus outside the ban on alcohol on the school grounds, she had failed to notice the time, returned late, much the worse for wear, and stumbling around hard enough and occasionally singing loudly enough to disturb those sleeping occupants of the rooms she passed.

Practicalities being practicalities, Karen was manoeuvred to her own room, helped into her pyjamas, a large glass of water summoned, and a bucket provided by the bed.

You should be glad of your friends who tried to keep you out of my way. Miss Henderson reached for a piece of paper, and prepared to add some more details to the report form.

With the details on this form, you are almost certainly looking at a dose of the cane. Please wear full formal uniform.

Socks not tights. Do not be late. What happened with Miss H, by the way? Full uniform, so no laughing when I appear. Karen shook her head.

All of it, drunk, noise, singing, the cute little skirt, being looked after by Matron. A bad example for the younger girls. Umpteen detentions?

I remember when Alice Mortimer got caned. She was in pain for ages. The two girls finished their drinks, and went to bed.

Karen laid out her uniform for the morning. For a couple of years, VI Formers had been permitted to dispense with the Blazer, and wear tights rather than socks, and in some instances shorter skirts were creeping in, except on special occasions, so Karen checked she had everything she needed.

As she was about to turn off the light, a thought took her back to her cupboard. Looking at the Uniform rules pinned inside the door, she rummaged around until she found the oppressively dull Navy Blue Regulation Knickers all girls were meant to wear.

Better safe than sorry. The morning came with the ringing of the 7 am bell. Karen shot to shower, and then returned to get dressed. Better not to put off, she reasoned.

Underwear, plain white bra, blue knickers. No tights, but long grey socks. Karen buttoned her blouse, thinking with each button of a stroke of the cane.

Then the pleated kilt, its blue and green tartan reaching to just above her knees. Grey Blazer. The hat could wait for later. Referral form in her pocket.

Breakfast, then collect her books for lessons, then morning tutor group. At the start of her first class, Karen waited at the front. Karen made her way to her desk.

Slinking into the seat, she checked she could see the clock. She fitfully engaged with the lesson, until at she raised her hand.

You may go for your caning. Grand and imposing, containing the Hall and a grand staircase, the building could be intimidating even under normal circumstances.

Wait by the door, facing the wall, hands on your head. Karen waited. Bells went. Break time. Girls streaming past to get to lessons.

Must be past 10 by now. The door opened. The Deputy Heads came out. The door closed. Then reopened. Indicating a spot in front of the great wooden desk, she was directed to stand.

Taking a seat behind the desk, Dr Hopkins looked at her. This is not the conduct I would expect of one of my most able pupils.

Having read the report, and, I must say, viewed the skimpy clothing you came back to us in, I feel there is no alternative but a sound dose of the cane.

Do you want to say anything? Blazer and hat on the hooks, then go to the school desk over there. Karen did as she was ordered.

Dr Hopkins went to a cupboard, and took out a thick cane and a leather bound book. She heard him open and write in the book.

Then came the footsteps as he crossed the room to where she was standing. They will be on the better bottom. Lie across the desk, holding the far side, keeping your bottom high.

This was better than she had thought. Then she felt the skirt move, lifted clear of her bottom. Then a deft movement tugged her knickers down her thighs.

Now this is going to hurt, so I want you to hold on as tight as possible. Karen felt the cane touch her bottom, as the Headmaster worked out his position.

The cane lifted, and after a moment, she heard a swish, a great CRACK, and then a blaze of pain burnt in a line across her buttocks.

She pulled a grimace on her face, let out a breath, and waited. A new line of fire. Tears already welling up in her eyes.

Karen gasped, and kicked a leg. The Headmaster waited for her to put her foot back down, looking at the cane marks as he did so. This caused a yelp to come from the poor, agonised girl.

Then one more, this time landing just above the crease above the thighs. Another yelp, and the tears more flowing. The cane landed between the the lower two marks and the first.

Karen fought to breath evenly. This was worse than anything she had imagined. The eighth stroke was again high, landing with its resounding CRACK just below the earlier high stroke.

Karen caught her breath again. There was probably no helping the tears, but she could adjust slightly over the desk, keep her bottom high, and now wondering what the wait CRACK … That brought a yell and kick of both legs, as the cane bit into the top of the thighs.

Karen lowered her feet to the floor again, but in the knowledge this would be followed by another stroke.

Back to the bottom for this one, somehow finding space in the painful lined already there to strike unmarked flesh. This time, the stroke, seemingly harder than before, crossed over the rising welts from the previous strokes.

Karen was now in real tears, sobs rising in her body. And the Headmaster walked away. Paused s moment, then returned. Then, finally. The pain shot through her.

Her arms clenched, hands tight on the desk. Her legs twitched. And now hot, mesh tears flowed.

Stand facing the wall by the door. Karen shuffled to the place directed, all the while feeling the fire burn across her bottom.

She heard the Headmaster writing again, and the sound of a paper bring placed in a file. She signed the book where shown, then on the instruction, pulled up her knickers and let her skirt down, wincing at the touch of the material pulling tight across her marked bottom.

Tears still burned her eyes, but she had mastered the snivelling. The Headmaster was now walking her back to the door, where she out on her blazer and hat.

He opened the door, but appeared to be waiting for something before letting her out.

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  1. Kak

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