The Spanked Female - Book Three

Product Information

Finally, Aunt Pam asked Doreen to give me three strokes of the cane, while she continued to hold me firmly over her knee. Doreen duly obliged. The cane strokes weren’t too hard, but they did bite. Although we did have the cane at my sweet little primary school in Wembley, London, in the 1960s, I managed to avoid it. However, at my senior school I was regularly caned and slippered as we all were, going into the 1970s.

A formidable no nonsense women. Her standing in the community was the fuel that drove her on. At Christmas she probably had to do without, to provide a lovely Christmas for her daughter. She was the woman you went to to get something done, Tombolas, Raffles, Carol Concerts to name a few. In short, she was a very much loved and respected member of the village community. Why haven’t you taken his pants down?” Doreen asked with interest. “Oh my dear, that’s far too vulgar.”“But you used to cane Rory on his bare bottom?”“Ah that’s different – he’s my son, whereas this one is merely in my charge. I’ve no desire to see what he’s got down there! But pants up nice and tight, and we have a perfect view. Now we’ll see who’s boss, young man!” Karen took the note, her hand shaking slightly. She could feel the cheeks on her face flush. “No Mummy I do not have any homework tonight.” The pain did not leave, it was still growing. Even in the dark of night she could feel the heat on her hand. And lying on her tummy, stroking her poor bottom, she fell asleep. Mummy noticed, and the other W.I.Women noticed. Not only noticed, but mentioned it, in a subtle way. “Your Karen is making a fine young lady, she’ll certainly turns some heads one day!”Karen felt aroused slightly, which made her feel even more of a naughty girl. But stood before Mummy as she scolded her was such a mixture of feelings. Her pubic hair had grown, it was now a delightful mixture of light fair hair with a hint of ginger, like her hair. The mirror of the dressing table was behind her, so Mummy could see her bottom, a bottom she was so proud of, like her new breasts, pert, and pleasingly plump. I went on about my day, got into my work, and didn’t realize the amount of time that passed. Until I got the above mentioned text, which popped up on my computer screen.

When she went to catch the bus now, it was wiggle of a young woman. Even the man with the bowler hat who sat in the same seat every day started to smile, and greet her with a tipping of the hat. She had no idea that he began to see her differently, she just assumed it was cordial familiarity with a regular person he saw on the bus. For Scene 2, the client asked Sarah to focus on that feeling of dread after being sent to the spanking room (in this case her momma’s study) and nervously awaiting the inevitable sound of footsteps coming down the hall. The dreaded bath brush is used regularly in our home and believe me my wife is an expert with it. Once I am in position over her lap she uses it to reduce me to a bawling very sorry husband and I love it. My second great desire in this weird and shadowy dimension was to be spanked myself by a stern, no-nonsense older female. This was kindled in me by Aunt Pam, with the help of her friend Doreen, who lived with her. The second implement I decided on using is no stranger to being used for woodshed whuppin’s. My infamous Italian leather belt, which I decided to wear today for this special occasion. Joey has shared with me many times that the sight and sound of me taking off my belt gives him that “oh no” feeling in the pit of his stomach. Even when I’m just taking it off to put it away. How’s that for some conditioning? 😉Some of the implements we found were hairbrushes (several) of different sizes, straps, a riding crop, and various kitchen implements, leather slippers, and what we found out later was a teachers cane. Almost a minute passed, but it felt longer. Karen looked at her beautiful Mummy, the rounded body looked so cosy and even at this moment strangely comforting, her Mummy bear almost. She saw her Mummy looking at her bush, her hips, she could almost read the thoughts in her head…”My my, my little girl is a girl no more.”

I held out my hand, albeit with a dollop of attitude, but Aunt Pam said: ““You silly boy! I’m not going to cane your hands – there’s far too much risk of injury, especially as you play the piano. There’s only one place God has decreed that naughty boys should be punished, and that’s on the bottom.” Mummy looked into the mirror, at this distance it was like a well framed photo, her on the bed, her shapely daughter with her upturned rump fine and round, catching the light. She looked at herself, doing what a good loving Mummy should do…her duty.In Karen’s case Mummy simply said, “I have signed it, and returned it already. Let me say this just once Karen. If you are ever punished at school, you will be punished again at home, understood?”

If it pleases my Queen, I would love to take off your sandals and kiss the soles of your feet as a display of my subservience and conquered state.” Here are four short custom clips that Sarah Gregory & I made during a double session for a private client. His first request was that we both wear stripes.The spit in her mouth had gone, her knees went weak as she saw Mummy swell before her taking a deep breath. Her eyebrow lifted and vanished beneath her fringe. She sat down, and opened the envelope. As she climbed the stairs thoughts of her own upbringing and the spankings she had received raced through her mind, what part of her naughty bottom had taught her the most? What words had her Mummy used to send the message home? What advice from her mentors, the W.I. and the Vicar helped her do what was needed? The memories spoke to her…”Spare the rod, spoil the child.”“It is for her own good.”“She will thank you one day.”