The images above are by Belgium artist, Jean Phillipe Cars, better known just as JPC. sadly the artist’s website appears to have disappeared. Most of the work dates from around the millennium and this is just a selection of at least 200 illustrations by him.

Most of JPCs work is themed around spanking, embarrassment and generally taking baby sitters, teachers and other authority figures down a peg or three. There are even a few strip cartoons with story layouts.

Karen was hopeless. She had only been working at the office a week and already she made more mistakes in administration than any of the other staff had ever made in their entire careers. Miss Hazelmere was all for sacking the girl but paternal old Barrington wouldn’t hear of it. All he would say on the matter was, “she will learn.”

All very well for him to say, but it wasn’t him who had to phone 17 customers to explain variously why they had been sent the wrong invoices, received wrong packages and in some cases hadn’t received anything at all.

She will learn, was that it? So much for ‘you never had it so good,’ it was all very well for the Prime Minister to say that but with record employment girls like Karen were stepping in and out of jobs at will. In 1958: sack them and they didn’t care; sack them and they were damn hard to replace.

Susan muttered a few choice words and wondered if the old man was finally going soft.

Karen Temple also had a habit of going early for lunch and coming back at least 15 minutes late. Barrington was usually in a meeting and never saw this or pretended not to. Hazelmere had to bite her tongue. This was going to be a classic case of choosing her battles.

“Do you think old Barrington will let me go early tonight?” Karen asked from her desk opposite. She wasn’t even paying attention to her senior co-worker but currently sat fixed on her nails with a small metal file. She may have been a natural blonde but the ashen-white beehive definitely had some help from the bottle, and hadn’t been cheap by the looks of it. It was definitely a salon job.

Susan gaped at Karen incredulously; the girl had absolutely no shame. “No, I don’t think he will let you go home early,” she snapped.

Karen rolled her eyes and made a sullen pout with her full lips.

All lips and hips that girl, Susan thought and shook her head. Blondes were all the rage it seemed, the Marilyn Monroe look was definitely in. With a hint of introspection the routine chestnut-headed Susan wondered if she were jealous.

That train of thought was rudely interrupted. “What do you think he would do about it if I did go?” Karen asked without breaking off from her beauty routine.

Susan glared. Not some many years back a certain rookie brat, not a million miles from where Karen was sitting got her panties warmed by one Gerald Barrington esquire for far less cheek. Had she learned? Not quite, a second session had finished with a threat to take her knickers down if she didn’t ‘buck her ideas up.’

After one monumental screw-up she had faced the choice of the sack or a very sound spanking on the bare bottom. She might easily have resigned and found another job, but she had stuck to it and taken the consequences, as painful and embarrassing as they had been. More than once she had had to contend with a red face and a very red bottom; she had learned alright.

“Why don’t you go and ask him?” Susan said icily, half hoping that she would.

Karen mouthed the words back in muttered mockery and sneered before returning to her make-up and nails touch up.

Susan was beginning to wonder if her irritation with the girl was turning into out and out loathing.

*

It was a few days later when Gerald Barrington raised his voice to summon Susan into his office.

The senior girl gulped and felt her bottom clench. She hadn’t been spanked in almost a year, but the tone was unmistakable.

Barrington’s face was like a brooding sky before a storm and Susan licked her lips nervously as she waited for him to speak.

“The Jamison order…” he began.

Jamison & Sons were their biggest clients, Susan braced herself.

“You checked the invoice before we sent it?” Barrington said darkly.

Susan tried to think. Of course she had, “Yes Sir,” she ventured hesitantly.

“And it went?” her boss continued.

Susan cast her gaze around looking for a memory or an answer before finding it. “I put it in Karen’s in-tray, for the post I mean. It was checked a sealed.”

Barrington relaxed a touch. “Old man Jamison called while I was out. He is going to call back. That usually means a problem and I know the orders are good; we talked them over a golf game not two days ago.”

“Can I check?” Susan sounded almost meek. Please don’t let Karen have screwed up, she prayed.

“I think you had better,” Barrington growled.

Susan turned an about face and hurried out to Karen’s desk. As usual her in-tray was full and Susan hefted a pile of envelopes and sifted through them. The invoice was still there.

It was a long walk back to Barrington’s office carrying the envelope and she wondered if she would get sent to the corner again. She would die if Karen saw her compromised like that.

Barrington sighed. “I suppose you are going to blame Karen again,” he said.

“No Sir,” Susan groaned, “It’s my fault.”

Barrington eyed her sternly. “I will deal with you later.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan was almost relieved. Later meant after office hours and by then Karen would have been long gone.

She hadn’t gone two paces when Barrington said in a thoughtful voice, “Send Karen in when she gets back… where is she anyway?”

“Lunch Sir,” Susan answered in a neutral voice.

“Lunch, it is almost two,” he said in surprise, “Did she leave late?”

“N-no,” Susan said, hoping she didn’t sound like she was telling tales again.

“Hmm,” he said, “Send her when she gets back.”

“Sir,” Susan acknowledged. Fat chance anything would come of it.

*

“You wanted to see me Mr Barrington,” Karen said girlishly and fluttered her eyelashes.

Barrington looked up and smiled. “Miss Temple, yes, come in and close the door.” He looked at his watch. “Good lunch was it?”

Karen blushed and shifted uneasily on the spot in front of his desk. “Yes I…” she finished with a nod.

“I noticed the other day you had your coat on a good five minutes before home time.” He said casually, “You very efficiently went on the dot of five.”

Karen pouted and avoided his gaze.

“Miss Hazelmere was still here at 5.30 I noticed,” he continued.

Karen shrugged and now certain that was not her problem finally met his eyes.

“You hadn’t cleared your in-tray I understand, not even the post, a simple enough task to attend to on your wait out, I would have thought.” He smiled again as if awaiting a perfectly plausible explanation.

“Mr Barrington I don’t see…” she countered.

Barrington held up his hand to bat her words away. “Let’s not waste each other’s time with… recriminations. You are a bright girl, you understand my point. Miss Temple, you have a bright future here, I am certain of it. You just need to apply yourself. I am certain you will learn.”

“Thank you Mr Barrington,” Karen said shyly.

“Now I don’t think you have shown Miss Hazelmere respect, after all she is the senior girl,” he smiled.

Karen didn’t reply.

“So here is what we are going to do. I am going to give you three chances, not bad eh? But I am going to leave those chances in the hands of Miss Hazelmere,” Barrington smiled magnanimously.

“Chances, Mr Barrington?” Karen didn’t like the sound of this.

“Yes, the next time you forget to post a simple letter for instance, or come back late from lunch… that kind of thing, and Miss Hazelmere thinks it warrants bringing to my attention then you will get a warning.” He explained.

Karen frowned. She really didn’t like the sound of this.

“The first time: we will have a little chat, like this one,” Barrington positively beamed at her. “After that I will have Miss Hazelmere write you a memo outlining your shortcomings. If we have any more… disrespectful behaviour then you will face disciplinary action.”

“You said I would have three chances?” Karen blurted.

“Oh yes. You see an adverse report will affect your pay review, but we can avoid that with an unofficial sanction of some kind. The latter, not being on your record, will also protect you from dismissal proceedings for repeated offences, so a double advantage really.” Barrington fixed her with a steely gaze and leaned forward.

Karen felt the heat rise and dipped her head. So she had been caught out sneaking back from lunch, she would be more careful, message received.

“Don’t worry about it Miss Temple, you will learn,” he said and indicated the door with a paternal wave of his hand.

*

Susan Hazelmere stood in front of Barrington and chewed her lower lip nervously. The butterflies in her tummy were working overtime, unlike the rest of her colleagues, leaving them both alone in the office.

“You may leave the pullover on, just remove your skirt and so forth,” Barrington coughed.

“Yes Sir,” Susan said shyly as she blushed furiously.

“I am waiting for a call so once you are ready you can stand in the corner,” he said sharply.

Susan swallowed hard and shot a look at the exterior door that led to the corridor. She prayed the cleaners would not come too soon. There were two doors to his office; one leading to the outer office, the other straight into the hall. She took a deep breath and reached back to first unbutton and then unzip her skirt before wriggling out of it.

Barrington had stood up and was gazing out of his window with a cigarette; a gentlemanly gesture that she appreciated. It didn’t make stepping out of her panties any easier, which she stepped out of only after a deep sigh.

As ever it was strange standing in her boss’s office in just her stocking tops and woollen top and her hands cupped her sex protectively. For a long second she forgot what to do and just all but hopped from one foot to the other.

Then taking a deep breath she turned to the corner and parked herself there, nose to the seam of the wall. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she resisted the temptation to cover bottom with them and instead grasped them in the small of her back.

By some instinct Barrington turned. Seeing that Susan was ready he ran his eye down her exposed curves. Full and pert, he decided and availed himself of a small smile. Well worth the spanking and much deserved, he told himself. Down boy, this is business, he self-chided.

*

Susan felt silly and embarrassed as she stood in the corner like an errant child. She couldn’t decide if it was more humiliating having a man looking at her bare bottom from his desk or ignoring her while he had a business conversation. Besides there was a draft and the goose bumps peppered her thighs and bottom.

Always at the back of her mind was that somebody would come into the outer office and hear something, the cleaners for sure. They might even just walk in to empty the waste basket. Then there was Karen, she might have forgotten something.

To chivvy Mr Barrington along a bit she rocked back and forth a little to emphasis her bottom. Not a thought out or even conscious strategy, just a native instinct of girl with a deep need for a good sound spanking.

Finally the phone call ended and she heard him fiddle with papers and then put something away in a draw. Or maybe get something out, her eyes widened as she remembered what he kept there.

“Miss Hazelmere, come here,” his deep warm voice intoned.

As she turned she saw what she had feared, the foot long Kent suit brush in his hand, which he patted menacingly onto his left palm. Big hands, she gulped inwardly, pity he isn’t going to use them.

Barrington sat in the armless chair on her side of the desk and patted his knee.

Cupping her sex she took a deep breath and reluctantly tottered forward until she was standing next to his thighs. He didn’t wait and pulled her across his lap in one easy motion so that her bare bottom was uppermost and exposed to his gaze.

“You knew the girl needed watching, you told me about it. You were sulking weren’t you, hoping she would make a mistake to prove me wrong?” he said in a dark gruff voice.

It was true and Susan felt her body surrender. “Yes Sir,” she whispered.

Barrington ran the back of the wooden brush over her bare bottom and patted it twice so that heavy slow ripples moved across her skin. Susan gave a little gasp.

“You silly girl,” he chided her and patted her bottom more firmly with the brush.

Then they were off.

The hearty thwack cut through to Karen’s soul leaving a fiery oval pact across both bottom cheeks. She gasped as her eyes started in her head. There was no time to dwell however and the second and third spanks came almost on top of each other.

Even allowing for the occasional pause in the action when Mr Barrington would growl “do you feel that girl,” or “I hope you are learning,” there must have been upwards of 30 spanks in the first minute leaving Susan panting like a dog and her bottom singing like a scolding kettle.

Then came a longer pause while Susan regained her breath and Barrington studied the dull red sheen staining his employee’s bare bottom. He noticed tightly packed gooseflesh where the spanked skin was shocked and even as he watched the reddened area was raised a little to form a gentle pad of raised flesh in two distinct bands.

The burn in her bottom was not enough to overtake her embarrassment and Susan’s face burned almost as steadily as the other end.

“I hope this is a lesson to you girl,” he said sharply, announcing a resumption of the spanking.

Susan managed a strangled “yes Sir,” before she yelped in response to another two minute onslaught.

Maybe a 100 spanks in Susan started to cry. The combination of sting over burn over ache left her convinced she would never sit down again; indeed she was beginning to wonder if he would ever stop spanking her.

“Now, now,” he said in a kindly voice, “It is not as bad as all that is it?”

Between tears Susan sucked down great breaths giving the impression that she was sobbing hard. He was right, it wasn’t that bad. Although her bottom felt tight as if it might burst lava bomb

“No Sir, I am sorry,” she sniffed, “Such as fuss. I don’t mean to be a cry-baby.”

“If you want to cry off, we will call it quits,” he told her, adding in a warning tone, “This time.”

She didn’t like the implication, besides she was never one to give up on a challenge. “No Sir, sorry Sir.”

“Well you have had a break, let’s call that half way, shall we?” he said brightly and resumed the spanking.

Susan yelled and then spent the next two minutes grunting and groaning as her face danced through a series of comic contortions.

When Barrington stopped for his final pause to scold her, the dam finally broke and this time her sobbing was heartfelt.

“There, there, almost done,” he said and gave her the last minute or two of her spanking.

This time her shouts and wails were louder even than the thwack-crack of wood on her bare bottom as the spanking reached its conclusion.

“Lesson learned?” Barrington asked as he put the brush down on his desk.

Susan managed a nod as she sagged into him for a good cry. She almost loved this part. Instead of hating him, she wanted to worship him for his mercy and had a sudden urge to kiss his hand.

“Up you get then,” he chuckled and patted her on the back. “You can go back and stand in the corner while you pull yourself together,” he said.

Susan sniffed and nodded as she obeyed. Her bottom felt like two molten cannonballs and she cupped them as she tried to shake out the burn.

Barrington felt the old trouser snake stiffen as he eyed up the strawberry globes. “No rubbing now,” he told her, “Hands on head.”

Susan obeyed, although she had to do a little shimmy until the sting eased back to barely bearable.

“When you have had time to consider your sins, say in about 20 minutes,” he said, “I want to talk to you about Miss Temple.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan sighed.

To be continued….

Part One here

In the morning it rained. Not so much just felines and co, but elephants and hippos. Susan cursed the longer bus queues and the overcrowding. Not that she needed a seat. After her meeting with Mr Barrington the last thing she wanted to do was sit down. In fact it wouldn’t have surprised her if a severe case of bottom-ache didn’t keep her standing on the bus for the rest of the week. Still she got to work on time and wasn’t surprised to see no sign of Karen.

Karen, as it turned out, was late. Not much later than usual to be sure, but this time she had shopping with her and dripped rainwater all over the office floor.

“Hurry up,” Susan chided the girl from where she stood at the filing cabinet. Filing was a good choice for a woman who couldn’t comfortably sit at her desk.

“Half a mo’” Karen said irritably as she struggled with a sodden umbrella before it occurred to her to hang it on the coat rack. It took her moment to put the shopping bags down and divest herself of the wet raincoat. “Is he in?” she asked nervously, “Did he see me come in?”

“He is, but he doesn’t know you are late,” Susan told her with pursed lips, “Not yet.”

Karen gave her senior a pained look of exasperation.

“He was quite specific last night,” Susan sighed, “I have to tell him.”

Karen gaped and shook her head in disbelief. “You don’t,” she said sharply.

Susan nibbled at her lower lip as a hand strayed to her behind. “Oh I do, believe me,” she replied.

Karen frowned petulantly and made a sulk-face. Then she shrugged, what of it, she supposed?

Twenty minutes later Karen watched petulantly as Susan went to Barrington’s office with some files. She just knew that the conversation would be about her. Sure enough when Susan came out she said Mr Barrington wanted to see her.

After their little chat Karen worked quietly all afternoon and without a mistake. Susan was finally convinced that the girl had turned the corner. A hope that continued the next day when wonder of wonders Karen came in three minutes early, only five minutes after Susan herself.

This newfound conscientiousness held up until the following day when Karen was less than a minute late and Susan decided not to notice. Although the girl didn’t exactly pull out all of the stops, she didn’t actually make a huge gaff or blatantly skive off either.

It seemed that Karen’s good behaviour had lasted about as long as she had nursed a sore bottom, Susan thought dejectedly. Now I have to watch her like a hawk before she drops me in it.

The next day Karen was late again, a mere five minutes, but Susan had to suffer the girl taking an age to make tea and the sitting down with a magazine while she fussed with her nails. Susan sighed heavily; a memo to Sir was definitely called for.

*

“You sneak,” Karen snarled and slammed the memo down on Susan’s desk. “An official written warning, you told on me?”

Susan might have felt guilty about being tell-tale but Karen’s use of the phrase ‘told on me’ sounded childish and it was all she could do not to laugh. “You don’t think Mr Barrington knows? I am only doing my job,” she shrugged.

“I am out of this dump just a soon as I can find a better job,” Karen snapped her fingers, “Just like that.”

Susan shrugged again. Suits me, she thought, but kept it to herself. “Oh really,” she said without a hint of sarcasm.

For the rest of that week and all of the next Karen was the perfect employee. Not particularly effective and she did have to be told things at least twice. But often these were new tasks, jobs she hadn’t been fit for, or had ducked out of before. Not that she had given up the idea about leaving. At least once a day Susan found the jobs page with positions ringed in red.

However, with a girl like Karen it couldn’t last and by Tuesday of the following week Karen was 15 minutes late and was in a paddy about something. She jammed the calculating machine, the hole-punch and an intercom button came off in her hand; all by stomping around and using the equipment like a tantrum-seized gorilla.

When she saw Susan looking at her she just glared back. “Don’t you start, I didn’t get a wink last night and that bastard…” she bit her tongue.

Shocked by the language Susan concluded that Karen had some boyfriend trouble. A guess confirmed when she caught Karen quietly crying in the kitchenette in a rare moment of vulnerability.

“Are you alright?” Susan asked.

Karen straightened up and muttered, “He dumped me,” before resuming her battle face and walking away. Eventually she went to lunch 20 minutes early and did not get back until after two.

“Mr Barrington wants to see you,” Susan said in a neutral voice once Karen finally returned.

Karen sighed and genuine regret hung on her face. “I guess I am going to get the push aren’t I?”

Susan made an attempt at sympathetic face. “Maybe,” she offered. What else could she say?

Karen eyed the door to the office like a devil was about to burst through it and licked her lips. She took an age taking off her coat and shuffling papers on her desk. If she was asked what she was working on she wanted to at least remember some of it. Then finally she adjusted her pullover and smoothed her pencil skirt down. Then taking a deep breath she approached the door to Barrington’s office and knocked.

A thousand years passed before there was an answer and when it finally did, the voice of doom intoned, “Come.”

For some reason Karen’s usual bravado deserted her, and instead of readying a line of cheek, she swallowed hard and wondered if he meant it when he said he would give her three chances.

Barrington looked stern sitting behind his desk and braced a pencil between his thumbs as he regarded her as a headmaster might a miscreant schoolgirl.

“Y-you wanted to… eh… see me Mr Barrington?” Karen suggested hesitantly.

Barrington’s gaze didn’t waver and he indicated a chair.

As soon as she was seated he sighed and put down the pencil. “You recall our last two conversations?”

Karen nodded meekly.

“I told you a couple of weeks ago that I would give you three more chances,” he continued.

“Yes Sir,” Karen agreed.

“You have used up two of them and are now facing… well let’s be blunt, by rights I should dismiss you,” he explained.

Karen felt the heat rise in her face and she averted her eyes. “Yes sir.”

“A pretty girl like you could easily get another job, recommendation from me or not. Notwithstanding that, as far as I was able I would probably give some sort of positive reference,” he went on. “But then I would be back at square one looking for a new girl and no doubt watch her make a muck of it like you have.”

“Yes Sir, please Sir, couldn’t I have one more chance,” Karen wheedled.

“Oh indeed yes, I have already appraised you of that. The same chance I give all you girls. I am not fool enough to think that one seeing to will put paid to your mischief. Never has before,” he rolled his eyes.

“Seeing to?” Karen seized on the phrase, it sounded rude, but nonetheless hopeful. She wondered if he meant what she thought he meant and weighed up whether she would go with him to keep her job or not.

“Yes girl, pay attention. I mean to give you a damn good spanking, then we will have done with this nonsense until next time,” he growled.

“Sp-panking sir?” she lisped and gaped at him, surely he didn’t mean to really…?

“Oh yes,” he said archly, “Ask Susan or any of the other girls in this building.”

Karen executed a small gulp and sat dumbfounded. Not because he had threatened to spank her, but at the idea that the straight-laced, butter-wouldn’t-melt, Susan had actually been spanked. A small smile played out on her cherry-stained lips. Then she tried to focus on her own plight. “I will, I mean… oh God, you won’t really will you?” she blushed.

“Over my knee, bare bottom, spank you until you are singing at both ends so to speak,” he told her and then seeing her violent blush he added, “Your bottom will be as red as your face by the time I am done.”

“B-bare?” she gasped.

“I’ll give you until the end of the day to think about it and if you decide to leave I will send your pay on and we will say no more about it,” his tone indicated that the conversation was over.

“You dirty old man,” she said without conviction.

His eyes flashed and he looked as if he might explode. “That will cost you if you report here after five, but it is your choice,” he snapped.

The air hung awkwardly around them and even Karen thought she had gone too far. But it was clear that the interview was at an end and she got up to leave. As she left the office she was shell-shocked and her face told the whole story.

“Threatened to spank you did he?” Susan said dryly. There was no triumph in her voice and for a second there might have been a hint of sisterly solidarity.

Karen blushed a little more but executed a small nod.

“Are you going to take it?” Susan was curious.

“Oh God, I don’t know, do I?” the girl wailed, resorting to type and the moment of camaraderie was gone.

*

Susan found something to occupy her right through to quarter past five, all the while watching Karen sitting in miserable confusion at her desk. As time got later it got more and more obvious that Karen had decided to keep her job and that Susan’s presence was no longer welcome. In the end the decision was taking out of her hands. Barrington’s office door opened and he called her in.

“Oh Lor,” Karen whispered as she straightened up and reluctantly walked across the office and went in.

“So I see you are still here,” Barrington observed. The old silver fox hadn’t sat down and was instead frowning thoughtfully at her.

“Yes Sir,” she mumbled unable to meet his eyes.

“Do you need any more time to think about it?” he asked.

Karen shook her head.

Mercifully he didn’t wait while she agonised. In a trice he stepped forward and upended her across his lap so that her head hung to floor as he occupied an armless chair by the door.

“Ooh,” Karen exclaimed as she suddenly found herself bottom up across his lap.

“Next time I will have you remove your skirt and underwear to make ready, but as this is your first time I will do the honours,” he warned her.

“Next time?” she squeaked, already disconcerted by this hand at the hem of her skirt as he lifted it along with her slip to reveal her panties.

Barrington stopped and hauled his little employee almost to standing so that he could meet her eyes. “This is not fun for feeble minds you know,” he snapped, “I already told you; I don’t expect to cure you of being a feckless lazy good for nothing after one spanking. If you think if you can take this and then go on as things were then there is no point to this.”

“No Sir, I mean yes Sir ooh…” she flustered.

Barring hauled back over his lap so that her nose almost touched the floor and spanked her once sharply across her underwear. Then after a beat to give her one last chance to cry off he slipped down her pants to reveal her bare bottom.

“Mr Barrington,” Karen exclaimed.

He responded with another brisk spank.

Karen yelped and tried to process the indignity as her eyes danced in her head. Then the spanking began in earnest.

Outside Susan grinned like jackal as she readied herself for home time. There was no mistaking the steady rhythm of a good spanking from within the office, and if there were any doubt, Karen’s steady stream of yelps and squeals confirmed that she was well and truly getting it.

Susan sealed one last envelope and then made a decision. She could wait.

Meanwhile inside Karen’s bare bottom was good and red, with mottled patches extending onto her legs and the rounds of her hips and thighs. His hand hurt well enough, but not half as bad as she had feared. The mortifying indignity was harder to contend with. What was worse was that she could not shake the conviction that she probably deserved a spanking.

“Sir, Sir, I’m sorry,” she wailed and prayed that Susan wasn’t listening.

“I dare say,” Barrington muttered and finally set her on her feet. “Nose to the corner, no rubbing mind,” he ordered.

Karen didn’t need telling twice, although she thought being sent to the corner a bit much for a grown woman. “Yes Sir,” she agreed ruefully.

Barrington watched as she obeyed, satisfied by the way her pert little bottom glowed red like two berries. “Your skirt and slip… they need to stay up,” he warned.

She rolled around and gave him a pout, but thought better than to argue and was a sigh of utter embarrassed misery turned back to face the wall and began to cry.

Outside Susan, suspecting the spanking was over, knocked on the office door with the envelope.

“Come in,” her boss said from within, and she didn’t wait.

In plain sight Karen was well and truly in her place, nose to the corner with a seriously red bottom on show. Susan grinned. “Letter for you Sir,” she said breezily.

“Bitch,” Karen sniffed.

“Oh we have all been there,” Susan giggled.

“Yes and that reminds me,” Barrington said darkly, “’Dirty old man’ was it?”

Karen felt a surge of panic, “No Sir I…”

“Miss Hazelmere, pass me the suit brush in the top draw of my desk will you?” Barrington said sharply.

“My pleasure Sir,” Susan leaned over and retrieved the item.

“You might as well stay for the next part, do her some good and anyway she may need some advice afterwards,” Barrington suggested. “After all, I have a feeling this is going to be a regular event.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan smiled.

“Oh Sir, please Sir, ooh,” Karen wailed.

“No, stay as you are, there really is no rush,” Barrington chuckled.

*

Once her business with Barrington was concluded Susan stood back against the wall to finally see Karen get her comeuppance. Barrington himself hefted the stout Kent clothes brush and patted it against his hand.

“This could take a while,” he said as he regained his seat in the armless chair and beckoned the woe-stricken Karen with one crook of his finger.

“Not in front of her,” she wailed as she turned and saw Susan’s almost smug satisfaction.

“Yes, in front of her and from now on she only has to write a memo to me and you will be kept in after work for more of the same,” Barrington said firmly.

“Oh Sir,” Karen bleated and actually wringing her hands. “It’s not fair.”

Barrington arched one eyebrow in warning.

“Well I don’t mean not fair but… oh please don’t let her…” Karen blustered as she hopped from one foot to the other like a trapped bird.

“Don’t let her what?” he asked sharply.

Karen dipped her head and said nothing.

“Right, over my knee girl,” their boss barked.

“Sir,” Karen groaned and obeyed.

This time her bottom was well arched as if trying to moon heaven. A posture well suited to what came next.

“You remember how this goes don’t you Miss Hazelmere?” Barrington said crisply as he lined up the flat side of the brush against Karen’s very bare bottom.

“Oh yes Sir,” Susan said ruefully.

Raising the brush he brought it down with a crack and Karen yelled. Not for the last time, but no less heartfelt. In moments dozens of spanks had landed and her bottom, only mildly red before, became angry and deep in shade.

“Sir, oh sir, sorry sir,” Karen bleated, scarce able to cope with or comprehend the fire now alight in her seat.

“Ooh, that is tender Sir,” Susan observed with a wince as she pretended some empathy.

“I hope so,” the boss chuckled.

Karen could only add a stream of yelps, grunts and screeches as she bucked and twisted across Barrington’s lap. By then of course her bottom was matt red and somewhat puffed up and welty. Fresh tears too had found their way to her eyes, and while her mind raced in a search for words to make it stop, she could scarce draw a breath.

“Are you sorry?” Barrington asked the now sobbing girl.

“Yes Sir,” Karen said frantically.

“Are you going to behave from now on?” he pressed her as he spanked on.

“Yes Sir, promise Sir,” she wailed and kicked.

“And you deserve this don’t you?” he asked.

“Oh yes Sir,” she yelled, not sure if she meant it.

The spanking halted.

“Then say thank you,” he told her.

“Thank you Sir,” Karen said breathlessly.

“Good girl, now go back and stand in the corner,” Barrington ordered.

Karen nodded in rapid agreement, struggling to hold on as the fire raged in her bottom.

This time she went to the corner without a hint of defiance and even stuck her bottom out in surrender. It took a moment, but the tears that had briefly been under control began to burst forth again and she was ready to indulge herself with a good cry.

Susan nodded in satisfaction and Barrington and her exchanged smiles.

“Glad you took your medicine?” he said to Karen once her crying had finally abated.

“Yes Sir,” Karen said emphatically.

“Good girl, welcome to the team,” he laughed.

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” Karen panted.

“Okay off you go. Miss Hazelmere, help her put a wet flannel on it or something.” Barrington coughed as if he was suddenly very conscious of her inappropriate nudity.

“Yes Sir,” Susan smirked.

“I told you she would learn,” was Barrington’s parting words as Susan helped Karen to the ladies’ cloakroom.

Once outside Karen decided against covering her bottom just yet and stopped to massage her rear end with gusto. “Is it always that bad?” she said now smiling through the last of her tears; so glad that it was over, for now anyway.

“No,” Susan assured adding with a wink, “It is usually much worse.”

“I guess I will learn,” Karen said ruefully and rolled her eyes.

Ends

Began here.

The castle was much as she had left it and it was with some apprehension that Elizabeth approached the gates. After all she had been out all night and all without permission. Since her father was already not best pleased with her, she was absolutely certain that her bottom was in for another long round of punishment. Her buttocks clenched and she swallowed hard. After the Krampus’s treatment of her she was confident that she would not sit down until spring.

It wasn’t until she got under the castle walls that she saw that there was some sort of activity among the guards. The soldiers at the drawbridge had swords drawn and the men-at-arms on the battlements were running to and fro as they yelled to one another.

“What is going on?” Elizabeth asked the leading gate guard.

“We have an intruder your highness, or so…” he looked at his fellow, “…someone was seen inside, but no one passed this way ma’am.” He looked confused.

“Where is my father?” she asked.

“He is out looking for you ma’am,” the guard told her.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and her heart sank. He would be worried, she thought, oh my lord, I am so getting a spanking. Then she hurried on across the bridge and through the gates.

She followed the sound of the commotion and found the captain of the guard and a dozen others gathering themselves for an assault on the great hall.

“Your highness, thank the lord,” the captain said, “Someone has breached the great hall and taken all the ladies of the court captive.” He broke off at the sound of a scream inside. “My God, what is he doing? We must hurry.”

“No Captain, wait. I think I know what is happening. I will enter first,” Elizabeth said with as much authority as she could muster.

“I cannot…” the captain protested.

However, Elizabeth was already pushing through the door and quickly closed it behind her. Inside she found the ladies of the court in various states of undress running around like beheaded chickens. There were many bare legs and even bare bottoms on show, although most were still mostly still clad.

In the middle of this melee was Krampus, at present holding the Lord Chamberlain’s wife over his knee and belabouring her bare bottom with a fresh birch rod. From the look of the angry purple-streaked stain on her naked rounds he had been thrashing her for some time. The poor woman was weeping and wailing as she kicked and struggled under the assault.

It was then that Elizabeth noticed several of the other women were sobbing pitifully and massaging their well whipped bottoms. All-in-all almost half the women of the court had been punished and the rest knew they were doomed.

Elizabeth for her part doubled over laughing, this was better than she intended all along and even if Krampus seized her again in the punitive mayhem she would accept that as the consequence of justice well served.

Then she remembered her sister and cousin. They, it seemed, had escaped and Elizabeth sighed in frustration.

“Mr Krampus, you have let two get away,” she called out.

Krampus dropped the sobbing Chamberlain’s wife to the floor and gave her a grin. “No one escapes Krampus; I will attend to all here before I move on to the rest of the kingdom. By Yule only the virtuous will be sitting for their festive supper,” he chuckled.

“All before Yule,” Elizabeth said doubtfully.

“Oh yes, time waits for no man, but he waits for me. Do you think the warriors outside are not mustering? To them they are but moments from affecting a rescue; but in here hours will yet pass as I deal out justice,” the demon told her with a wink.

Elizabeth curtsied to the creature and asked, “Have you finished with me or shall form the others into an orderly queue and then join it?”

“I am done with you… for now,” he grinned adding with a mocking bow, “Your highness. Why don’t you watch the fun?”

Elizabeth grinned. She believed she would.

*

The chaos had receded and now there was a line of bare-bottomed women all facing the wall in various degrees of misery. All had glowing red bottoms, but only half were crying. Elizabeth doubted that any of them would sit down for at least a week and that justice had well and truly served.

The last three girls had given up fleeing and now stood in a huddle watching a fourth turned over Krampus’s knee had getting the spanking of her life. Elizabeth knew the girl to be the proud and haughty daughter of the provincial lords sent to court for an education. Well she was certainly getting educated today, the princess chuckled to herself.

The girl, Dagmar, if Elizabeth remembered her name correctly, was bawling like the brat she was and kicked her legs in time to the various and several lashes that stung her bare bottom, which by now was hot, red raw and very, very sore.

The other unspanked women looked on nervously, but made no further attempt to flee, so that once Dagmar was set on her feet and sent to face the wall next to the line of other women, the next girl draped herself across Krampus’s lap almost willingly.

“That’s the way,” Krampus chuckled and began lashing the girl’s bare bottom with vigour.

It took another half an hour of subjective time for Krampus to finish the whipping last three girls and Elizabeth watched in glee as each one took her place facing the wall next to the elegant line of pert bare and very sore bottoms on parade there. Then it was over.

Just then the doors burst open and guards rushed in with a shout and brandished their swords at Krampus.

The demon only laughed and danced around; eluding each slashing sword until at last he leapt onto the window ledge and appeared to jump away.

“Summon the garrison, search the grounds,” the captain was yelling and most of the guards retreated back through the gates to join the pursuit.

“Ladies, I hope you all learned a lesson,” Elizabeth said brightly, “I suggest you don’t move until someone tells you too,” she added with a chuckle.

“What did we do?” Dagmar sniffed as her small soft hands massaged her very sore bottom.

“Oh I think you know, I think you all do. All those little sins that you hoped no one would find out about,” Elizabeth wagged her finger.

Several of the women bit their lips ruefully and remembered. The Lady Chamberlain even nodded her head sagely. None dared move from facing the wall, leaving a row of bare bottoms on display to amuse the guards and returning male courtiers. No one in authority had yet to think of telling them to cover their sore bottoms or to leave the chamber.

Finally satisfied, Elizabeth left them all too it and went to her rooms for a bath.

*

With Krampus apparently gone and the King still out looking for his eldest daughter, the castle was quiet. Elizabeth had luxuriated in a long hot bath and was now draped in a silk robe and reading a courtly romance.

The demon, she supposed, was out in the countryside seeking out naughty wenches and spanking them soundly for their seasonal sins. No doubt he would return and she just knew her own bottom would burn as it should, but at least justly this time. Perhaps once again before Yule, but certainly before next, she thought ruefully.

She remembered the rod stinging her bottom at the cave and where it was now. Would she really be compelled by magic to surrender it to a future husband, she wondered? She winced in anticipation. Justice was so hard on a lady’s bottom.

Just the she heard a squeal and then another. Surely not, she thought and gathered up a heavy velvet robe to cover herself. Them making her way down the passage she approached her sister’s chambers and saw the door ajar.

From inside were yelps and yells and the unmistakable sound of the thwick-swosh-thwack of a birch rod meeting bare flesh. Peering around the door Elizabeth was not surprised to see Astrid and Ingrid kneel bare-bottomed side-by-side on Ingrid’s bed while Krampus stood behind them and birched them soundly.

“I see you have come back,” Elizabeth chuckled.

“I told you I would,” the demon laughed.

Ingrid looked back over her shoulder, her face a picture of utter woe and begged Elizabeth to stop him.

The elder woman could see tears, henceforth a stranger to her little sister’s face, were now streaming down her cheeks and chin while the girl wailed and cried out. As well she might given the utter purple-red devastation being wrought at her other end. In fact both bottoms looked exceedingly sore and the small welts and grazes marring the skin seemed tender enough to almost garner little welts of their own.

“When I marry I shall pull rank,” Elizabeth said gleefully, “And these two bottoms will burn weekly until they learn some respect.”

“Oh, oh, please cousin, stop him,” Astrid sobbed.

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said absently as she studied the punitive tapestry being wrought on her cousin’s pert bare bottom. “But it is good practice, for I mean what I say and if you won’t submit to my rod, I shall find a groom or a soldier to spank you oh so soundly.”

Neither Astrid or Ingrid were listening by this point as the Krampus gleefully went to work.

“They are so much naughtier than you,” Krampus laughed, “This could take hours.”

“Oh it could,” Elizabeth agreed and settled down in a chair to watch.

to be continued…

Vintage corner time

LSF have just released The Sinclair Method as an E-Book.

Set in the 1950s, it is the story of five women and mentoring method that will improve them all. Alice Bowman is in her late twenties and a former US WAVE. Feeling lost in civilian life after WWII she is reeducated and retrained as a governess mentor schooled in the Sinclair Method.

Her four charges, two of them under court order have to be tamed and trained by thorough and traditional methods. A over the knee spanking is not the least of those to be employed.

Publishers blurs has it:

It’s the 1950s and Katherine, Mary, Jenny and Janet have something in common – they are all subject to a special kind of discipline, regularly inflicted on their bare bottoms by Alice, a strict mentor/governess and proponent of the Sinclair Method. Two of Alice’s charges have signed up to the disciplinary programme voluntarily, but the other two have been referred as delinquents, attending as an alternative to a court appearance. Alice escorts her girls to a large house in Seattle where she provides a disciplined structure to their lives, which inevitably results in some very sore bottoms. This novella charts the progress of the girls as they are put through their paces, enduring private and humiliating public spankings by hand, strap, paddle, birch and cane… for such measures are essential in helping to reform wayward young ladies. A thoroughly spanked bare bottom and an hour or more standing in the corner, bare bottom on display, is a hugely beneficial part of their training…

You can get it here.

Part I here

The lock was old. The handle was the kind wrought of iron by a local blacksmith, making it at least a hundred years old, Stacy guessed. Tampering with an antique felt wrong somehow and after looking around she strained on tip toes to see through the dust caked window. The desk she could see was even older than the lock and it came complete with a covered typewriter and a Bakelite phone.

The young writer wondered when the office could last have been used and why it had been shut up in this way. It either contained some real old treasures or it was a waste of time, she concluded. She snorted, well duh, “Glad I got that settled,” she muttered.

Neither of the reachable windows would budge and the door may have been painted shut. She jemmied the lock and listened, but the creaking scratching told her nothing. It was always easier in the movies.

Stacy took a step back and crinkled up her nose as she surveyed the old outbuilding. It looked hopeless. Then up to her left she spied a small window with a modern frame. It was too high as such, but just under it and a little to the right was an old rain barrel. Maybe she could… she made with the frog lips and then let them go with a pop.

Ten minutes later, and after she had struggled with more exercise than she was used to, she had managed to slide open the small high window and swing her leg inside. It was a squeeze and Stacy doubted that a grown man could have gotten in. It was dark too and her whole body blocked out the light. But as far as she could gather she was on an upper floor that was less than a third the size of the whole building, like a mezzanine that overlooked the lower office.

“This must have been where the boss sat,” Stacy said aloud and moved away from the window to let in more light. She had brought a torch, but it was less use than the sunshine from outside.

The thing that struck her most was the smell. It was dusty with a hint of decay. Paper she guessed and she scanned the desk on the upper floor. There was nothing much, another typewriter and a pot with pencils. On top of the writing blotter there were a couple of old notebooks but these had nothing but faint columns of numbers like a ledger.

The pictures on the wall were from the 1930s; photographs with no one she recognised. Except for an old Navajo who looked a lot like Sundance and she took a closer look. Not Sundance, she was sure, but then she saw who the man was standing next to. Garrick, Garrick looking maybe 20 years younger. Stacy hastily scrubbed at the dust to read the caption.

“Stone Ranch, Pulver, 1931,” the handwritten legend ran. Stacy looked again at the picture and looked hard. There was a group of men in working clothes posing for the camera. There were a couple of Native Americans, but most of the men were white. Her gaze kept coming back to the one in the middle. It was heady stuff and she felt her mouth go dry. There was no mistake, it was Garrick.

“Hmm, so 80 or odd years ago Garrick Stone looked not a day over 40,” Stacy said aloud as if saying it would make it take on more sense. It didn’t.

There was nothing else she could see on the upper deck that gave anything away. Although a stash of Picture Magazines was fun and probably valuable, she pondered. But she resisted the temptation to browse and headed down to the main office.

“Okay, what have we here?” she muttered as she headed over to a file cabinet.

It was locked and so was the next one. Finally she found one that she could force and it slid back with a grinding crack. There was an old half-empty bottle of rye and two tin cups. She also found a dated Webster’s dictionary, some more packets of pencils and some empty notebooks.

The next drawer had some actual files or at least holders for them. Rifling through she found invoices, bills, mostly for farm stuff. The names were interesting, in a grocery bill for 1947 she found Jared’s name. Augusta was there and Sundance. Not one document was dated past 1957.

It was fascinating stuff and Stacy thought if she could kick back for a few days she would find gold. But so far, nothing she had seen told her anything she hadn’t already suspected. She slammed the drawer with a curse.

Next she tried the desk drawers, none were locked. She found an old Colt .45, but no ammo. It didn’t look like it worked, but she knew little about guns. With the gun she found some tame 1950s girlie mags and a couple of calendars from the 1940s.

The she startled and jumped back. Her breathing was like an oncoming freight train and she fixed her gaze on one gloomy spot in the shadows at the back of the desktop.

Staring at her were the blood red eyes of a wolf. A picture of course and she reached out a careful hand to take up the paperback sporting the picture. It was a horror pulp fiction offering from the 1950s. Someone had a sense of humour.

Stacy started to laugh as she tossed the book aside. Then she sighed. “Come on, there must be something,” she snapped and slammed the desk drawer shut.

The rattle at the door was worse than seeing the book and for a long second she wondered if her heart was about to leap out of her chest and make its own break for it.

For a second more she thought about hiding but the door opened to light up the room.

Silhouetted by the doorframe stood Augusta, she was poised like a hungry dog and wore a face like summer thunder.

Stacy clutched her chest and let out a breath that was halfway to being relieved.

“Augusta, I was…” she blurted.

“I know what you were doing, precisely what I told you not to do,” Augusta accused, but even she had relaxed some.

“Yah,” Stacy drawled, adding with a wincing face, “Totally busted.”

Augusta almost smiled and shook her head before turning to try the light switch by the door. When nothing happened she closed the door anyway and crossed the room to try a freestanding lamp in the corner. The abandoned office lit up.

“Man this is a mess,” Stacy suggested and dragged her fore finger along some dust. The action made her sneeze twice.

“Do you know who you are? Really I mean?” Augusta asked as she strolled towards the younger woman.

Stacy laughed and grinned at the larger older woman. “I think it goes, ‘Who do you think you are?’ but I get it, I am out of line. I was just curious, but you knew that.”

“Oh I know who you think you are,” Augusta countered, “I know too that you are lost and searching for something. But you won’t find it in here.”

“I can see that, I guess,” Stacy sighed, “What do you say we go get a coffee and… eh why are you looking at me like that?”

Augusta drew in a breath through her nose and took hold of her temper. “I know what you need right now and it isn’t coffee.”

“I think I’ll just go,” Stacy tried to push past and pointed at the door.

Augusta took hold of the girl and half carried her over to a chair against the wall. It was an easy matter to deposit the young woman face down across her lap; less so to tug down her denims to expose the brief covering on her bottom. But the matron managed it.

It was so quick that Stacy was still trying to make sense of it when she felt a breeze across her bare bottom. “What the hell? Are you crazy this ain’t 1950…” the young woman gasped in a frantic voice.

“Sadly no,” Augusta sighed and spanked the girl once across the bottom to extract a yelp.

Stacy looked back at the woman in horror, although as the blood flushed to her face, she kind of wished she faced a wolf. “That hurt,” she said scornfully, “and if you don’t let me up…”

Augusta spanked the girl again and watched the consternation run wild on her upturned face. The third swat was a stinger and three more left two red hills on fire.

It was killing, as Stacy might have said as a teen, but the humiliation was still worse. “I get it, I’m sorry, it is just an old…” she blurted.

Augusta tilted the girl so that her running-at-the-mouth end went nearer the floor and her bare bottom was elevated to be more fully exposed. Then she spanked with real force, adding three or four spanks in rapid succession.

Stacy’s cries and pleadings couldn’t successfully make words and she communicated with futile bucking and yelling. It didn’t save her bottom though, which after a minute was a hot red and rash-mottled. Someone had found a blowtorch and was bathing her tail with it.

Augusta was never one for counting or timing a spanking, she just chartered her course for a long haul until she heard that sea-change in a girl towards half way through their voyage.

“Okay, I get it,” Stacy shouted angrily through the increasingly wet babbling she had been contending with.

“You definitely are getting it and I am going to give it to you,” Augusta snapped, angry at this brat’s defiance.

“Please, I’m sorry,” Stacy wailed.

“I don’t think so,” Augusta said spanking harder and faster.

Stacy rapidly jack-knifed herself to try and break free and then she started cry properly. After that among the weeping and wailing there was an occasionally ‘please’ and ‘sorry,’ but mostly the girl bawled into the floor having given up the fight.

After a few minutes more and every two or three minutes after that Augusta paused to lecture the girl on respect, privacy, ingratitude and a host of moral concepts Stacy had skipped reading about and hadn’t even bothered with the movie.

“Please I am so sorry, I get it, really I do, please,” Stacy croaked, her face was a cascade of tears and she even had a snotty nose.

Augusta inspected the bare bottom. It was hot to the touch and the colour had moved on from strawberry towards plum. The girl was sobbing hard and almost broken.

“Now, I know you won’t listen, I get that. You think you will, but an hour, a day, a week after this spanking you will think it won’t happen again and you will screw up. I just want you to know that I will give you the benefit of the doubt, but when it comes to it I will spank you again. Next time I will spank you pert little bare bottom out there in front of everyone, is that clear?” Augusta said firmly.

“Yes Ma’am,” Stacy sobbed, hoping like she never had before that this was the closing speech and it was over. She knew there wasn’t much she wouldn’t beg to do to be allowed to get off Augusta’s lap just then.

“Good,” the older woman said in a tight voice. “Now stand up and make your way over to… that corner,” Augusta said pointing to an empty part of the office. “Leave your pants and panties down and stand there. No rubbing, no talking.”

Stacy gaped at her and then at the corner. She wanted to protest that she wasn’t five, but she knew better. Now she did.

“Stacy the corner,” Augusta said sharply. “Move or rub before I fetch you and I will spank you again and believe me I will know.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Stacy squeaked and after regarding the woman with a mix of awe and apprehension she tottered across the room to where she had to stand in time out.

“Good girl,” Augusta sighed. “I will look I on you in a bit, you won’t hear me. You had better be standing just like that.”

Stacy sniffed and nodded vigorously.

Augusta smiled at the bare bottom as it cooled and shook her head maternally. Then she left.

Stacy cursed the wall under her breath as her fingers clawed the air in proxy bottom massaging. She didn’t dare rub and God help her if she moved. She never wanted another spanking as long as she lived. For a minute she blamed the world and everyone in it for letting this happen to her and then she burst into heavy sobbing.

Strangely after she tried to hate Augusta she found she couldn’t. She could see her point even if her methods were… Stacy grabbed at her behind, not believing the heat and singing flesh under her fingers. Then she remembered and in a panic snatched them away. It was a full minute before she realised Augusta wasn’t there and she could relax. This was utterly crazy, why was she even standing in the corner like a kid. Then a sound came from somewhere outside and Stacy stiffened. She didn’t dare move.

To be continued…

Part I here

Stacy drew her mouth into a pout to form frog lips which she then let go with a pop. This time the sound was muffled by the corner of the room which was pressed up against her face. Her still bared bottom felt like two tight spheres flame roasted by a torch gun and it was all she could do not to either rub or cry.

Well this is new, she thought ruefully, she could not remember ever feeling quite so embarrassed, not even when Augusta had been spanking her. Soundly spanked and sent to the corner like a little girl, her mind whirled. She was a published author for God’s sake. Nonetheless, she did not dare voice a protest of move her nose from the wall.

Garrick hadn’t left but, was now sitting patiently on the bed behind her to allow her to ponder their confrontation, her part in it and the bottom-seared reality that she had been well and truly put in her place.

No, Stacy didn’t dare move; the man had been quite clear about that. However, strangely enough she felt an unfamiliar cosy feeling that wrapped around her humiliation like an oyster did around grit. She hadn’t felt anything like it since childhood and wondered if this was what having a father would have been like. At least the spanking had cleared the air and had given her something else to focus on. She would have hated to have admitted it, but she felt better, like a load had been lifted.

“Are you ready to talk now?” Garrick said at last.

“Yes Sir,” Stacy mumbled, a fresh surge of blood heating her face. “Can I…” she licked her lips and sniffed nervously, “Can I pull my panties up now?”

“No,” Garrick said sharply, “I am not at all sure we are done.”

Stacy bit her lip and wished she could merge with the wall.

“Now come and sit down,” the old man sighed.

Stacy cupped her hands to her naked sex and shyly turned around. She felt about 12 just then. “I think I would rather stand, if it is all the same to you,” she said quietly.

“Sit down,” Garrick ordered.

Stacy dropped heavily onto the bed and then immediately regretted it as her face broke into a grimace and she half stood up again.

“Tell me about your father,” Garrick said, ignoring her discomfort.

*

Alice was taking a shower when there was a knock at the door.

“Just a minute,” she yelled, but by the time she had grabbed a towel and stepped into the room she saw her visitors were already inside. The towel was painfully short and she tugged it down at the same time she hugged it to her breasts.

Adam was sitting on the bed fixing her with a glare. His jaw was set tight and he had eyes like flint. John had opted to stand and although his expression was softer, he was not smiling. “Hello Alice,” he said.

“What the hell? Get out of my room,” she snapped angrily and with more conviction than she felt.

“We have to talk to you and you are going to listen” John sighed.

Adam shook his head and offered his brother a withering look. “I told you we should just have sent some women to drag her to the barn,” he said.

Alice felt a surge of panic and looked at John for some sympathy.

He frowned. “We can let her get dressed and give her a chance to explain,” he said.

“To explain what?” she snarled and pulled the towel more tightly around her.

“”So let her explain,” Adam sounded bored, “It is not like we haven’t seen it before.”

John screwed his face up at his brother’s lack of tact and reached for the robe hanging on the back of the door and handed it to Alice.

“What is this all about?” Alice said impatiently once she had pulled on the towel robe.

“Adam, how is Marsha? John, did anyone else get hurt?” Adam said in a brittle voice as he mocked her.

Alice opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again. None of that was her fault. The hunters attacked, but for the first time she felt a pang of guilt all the same.

“Alice, people have been killed. Some of our people were hurt,” John said his voice mostly sad.

“I didn’t…” Alice began.

“You ran, you caused a distraction;” John snarled, “My Dad was almost killed going after you when he should have been focussed on the attack.”

Alice coloured and looked at her feet. “I was scared,” she whispered and could have cursed her soul for sounding so lame.

Adam didn’t meet her eyes. He knew full well that he and John had both deserted their post to go after her. Maybe…

“I’m sorry,” Alice mumbled and slumped into a chair.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” John said in a tone sharper than he had ever used with her before. “You will be even sorrier when I am done with you.”

“W-when…? What are y-you…?” Alice responded nervously, her eyes flashing in something between fear and another emotion.

John slipped out of his jacket and tossed it on the bed. Then he folded his arms and fixed her with a firm gaze. “I am going to turn you over my knee and spank you silly until you can’t sit down for a week,” he said in a determined voice.

Alice’s heart lurched and she felt an unfamiliar head rush. She even looked at Adam for help.

The older twin just grinned. “Oh don’t worry; after he is through, you are going across my knee too.”

Alice opened her mouth and shook her head. “Look if you think…”

“Jared suggested a bull whip, but Garrick thought a good stropping in the woodshed would suffice,” Adam told her. “I don’t think Augusta planned on being quite so sentimental. She likes you, which means she would quite happily deny you sitting rights for a month or two; and the chores…. Whew-whee!”

“You wouldn’t,” Alice wailed, “I mean it wasn’t my idea to come here…”

“Should we have left you to the hunters that night then?” John asked, but he was already advancing.

Alice stood up and backed away. She made a gesture of protests and began to babble. “This is a sex thing isn’t it? Well I don’t consent, in fact…”

“No, this isn’t a sex thing,” John sighed, “You city folks are so predictable. This is an old fashioned over-the-knee very sound bare bottom spanking thing.”

“But…” Alice squeaked.

She might have said more but John had already seized her and tucked her under one arm. Then without breaking his stride swung her around and dropped to sitting on her bed next to Adam. Like a rag doll Alice was tumbled face down across his lap and rapidly bared.

“J-John, please, John… I-I’m sorry… I…” Alice felt helpless and then the first spank landed and she yelped.

The insistent sting burned at her bottom for a moment and she remembered last time. She wanted to protest, but they were right, people had gotten hurt and she was getting off with a spanking. She blushed at the thought, revelling shamefully in its hidden meaning. The next spank made her gasp.

“Hey,” she gasped, and forgetting her previous resolve and added “This is… you can’t do this…”

“You think not?” John said sharply and volley spanked her so hard that she twisted and bucked on his lap until her bare bottom was cherry red.

“Please John, please,” she wailed tearfully. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Adam put in, “By the time we are done with you, you won’t sit down for a month. Embarrassing would be taking you outside and letting everyone watch.”

Alice gaped and rolled her eyes like a wild pony. “You wouldn’t dare you bastards,” she blurted, before she remembered who she was dealing with. Flushed and panting she quickly took back her outburst babbling, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Didn’t mean what? That we are bastards or that we wouldn’t dare?” John grinned evilly, “Maybe we should take this outside at that.”

“Please, please don’t, I’m sorry,” Alice pleaded.

“Does that mean you will take your spanking like a good girl?” John said menacing her naked bottom with a claw-like hand.

“Spankings,” Adam amended thoughtfully, almost as if he was considering a minor domestic chore.

Alice lay helpless across John’s lap and blushed furiously. She considered her options. She was going to get a spanking and there was nothing she could do about it. It was going to hurt and just like last time. At the very least she was going to cry and be one hell of a sorry girl long before they were done with her. If she could look herself in the eye she would probably conclude that she had it coming. For second she focussed on the not unpleasant pressure of John’s thighs under hers. The she swallowed hard.

“I am sorry, I guess I do have it coming,” she admitted, “Please don’t take me outside like this.”

John made a face of apparent reluctance. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think a good sound spanking in front of everyone will do her good,” he said as if to Adam.

Alice felt her nerves jangle and fought down the sudden panic of imminent social humiliation. “I’ll be good, please,” she wailed.

“Such a change of attitude,” Adam said cheerily, “I think she is actually learning a lesson.”

“I am please,” Alice pleaded.

“So a nice long hard spanking and some humbling corner time is called for,” John teased her.

Alice lay panting as her face burned with shame.

“Two nice long spankings and a time out,” Adam amended, “Agreed.”

Alice chewed her lower lip and gave a small nod.

“I didn’t hear you,” John said sharply.

“I agree to getting a spanking,” she whimpered. Her tummy tightened and something thrilled inside her as she surrendered. The contact her lower body had with John’s lap was suddenly very uppermost in her mind.

“That’s a good girl,” John said and began spanking her again.

“Oh my God,” Alice yelped and tried to suck down air. This hurt and she had a feeling that it was only just beginning.

To be continued…

Part one here

Karl ran his eyes over the two proffered bare bottoms and smiled. Both were red and slightly swollen with raised welts forming large ovals on each bottom cheek. If serving wenches had been so soundly spanked he might think they were done.

“You tried to deceive us,” he said.

No we are deceiving you, Tzara thought, but that gave her no satisfaction just then.

“Yes My Lord,” Lucinda managed, her voice was thick and edged in tears. “I am sorry.”

Karl nodded.

“Me too my lord,” Tzara added quickly.

“You are a deceiver too, are you not?” Karl answered.

“Yes lord and I am truly sorry,” Tzara wheedled.

“Good to hear it,” Karl grinned evilly and then he spanked her.

Tzara was still gasping from the impact when he spanked her again and then again.

Lucinda knew how her man could spank and eyed her friend sideways and wondered if she had the same expression on her face when he spanked her. It had been Tzara who had got them into this so she could not help hoping that it hurt.

After six Karl stopped and let Tzara get her breath. Then without warning he switched bottoms and spanked Lucinda. The first impact made her scream and thereafter for five more.

“Sore?” he asked both women now that they were half done.

Both Tzara and Lucinda panted like dogs and throwing dignity to the wind both just cried.

Without waiting for an answer he resumed spanking Tzara and watched her twist and growl under the onslaught.

“This is fun,” Karl said brightly and laid the paddle on Tzara’s bare bottom as hard as he could. “I hope you think so, I doubt the next part will be as jolly for you.”

Tzara remembered that Galen had given him the choice of switch. It was hard not to react to the paddle already and the sharper switch was going to be bad, very bad. It was going to be a long day.

All six swats landed over a minute and each was a tiny parcel of hell. Tzara doubted that she would ever sit down again. It was an unworthy thought but she was so, so glad when Karl began spanking Lucinda again.

*

Lucinda and Tzara were sobbing hard and their sore bare bottoms glowed like burning coals and felt like it no doubt, Galen thought. Well the spanking was done, he conceded and watched Karl while, with no little relish, the man was inspecting the rail where the various switches hung.

Limiting the last part of the punishment to a switch at least kept the sadism down to a minimum, but that didn’t mean that both women were going to rue this day for a long time to come.

“Do you have a stroke count in mind for the switch my lord?” Karl asked as he made his choice.

Galen had half expected the brute to choose a heavy thick crop from the rail, but instead he had chosen a moderately long thin affair with a light tracer cord dancing at the end. This was going to hurt, he thought, but no real harm would result from this bitter riding switch.

“Let us match the paddle and then see how we go,” Galen shrugged.

“Oh let’s,” Karl agreed.

Tzara and Lucinda were just recovering and still bent over the bench where the men couldn’t see, they exchanged hopeless glances. Lucinda shook her head in dismay as if to say ‘you owe me big time for this.’

Tzara made a wincing face in acknowledgment and mouthed a ‘sorry.’

“Now ladies, are you ready for us to continue?” Karl said as he approached.

“Yes lord,” both girls answered in unison.

“Will you do the honours my lord?” Karl continued and offered Galen the switch.

“No after you,” Lord Galen conceded.

Karl bowed and turned to address the two bare bottoms. “Deserved or undeserved?” he asked.

“Oh deserved my lord, thank you,” Lucinda answered quickly. She was well used to his ways.

“You don’t agree my Lady Tzara?” Karl directed his words at her bare bottom.

Tzara bristled at the ongoing indignity and looked at Lucinda. Lucinda was urging her with her eyes and even looked slightly angry.

Tzara sighed in resignation. “Yes my lord, thoroughly deserved,” she groaned.

“You don’t sound convinced,” Karl said and swiped her bottom once with the switch.

Tzara yelped. “No my lord, I mean yes… I… please, I am sorry. I know I deserve to be punished,” she sounded almost eager now, but her voice had a pleading tone.

“Glad to hear it,” the Lord Chamberlain chuckled, “That one didn’t count by the way,” he added. “This does,” he switched her again.

“Jeeez,” Tzara gasped, this was worse than she thought. The line of pain across her bottom didn’t die quickly and sang on for several long moments.

Meanwhile Karl watched the white line deepen to red and grow to a stand out ridge across Tzara’s already very sore bare bottom.

“Feeling that?” he said.

“Yes lord,” Tzara panted.

“Good,” Karl said and whipped her again.

This time she yelled incoherently and kicked her legs. This stroke was worse, but Karl was in no hurry, he let it burn on her flesh.

“Do you think 12 will be enough?” Karl said to Galen.

The Lord felt his manhood tighten and felt his mercy fade in the face of two punished bottoms. “Perhaps not,” he muttered absently.

Karl landed two in quick succession and watched Tzara growl and twist. Then before she could recover he landed a stroke across Lucinda’s bottom. Now off the leash he intended to keep them both off balance for a dozen or two strokes by switching randomly from bottom to bottom. Not fast mind you, he was going to take his time.

“You think me cruel my lord,” Karl said to Galen, “But I am merely thorough.”

Galen nodded.

“Of course you know damn well that they had no bet or dare in play?” Karl chuckled.

Galen smiled and shrugged. The Lord Chamberlain was no fool after all.

Two quick thwack-swicks and both women yelled; the stripes of fire across both their bottoms was growing nicely now, although there was nothing nice for them.

*

Tzara’s bottom felt like it had been sandpapered, grilled and then fried. It was hard not to cry, in fact it was impossible and both she and Lucinda sobbed soundly for some minutes. Tzara had never cried so much in her life and strangely it felt cathartic. The next challenge would be sitting down, an activity she did not intend to indulge for many days to come.

“I trust you have learned your lesson?” Galen asked.

“Yes my lord,” Lucinda sniffed.

“Please, yes My Lord,” Tzara added miserably, “I’m sorry.” Strangely she was and for once she blamed herself for not respecting the rules. Then forgetting Galen wasn’t real she wondered for the first time in her life whether it was not satisfying to be held to account by a man.

“I am glad to hear it,” Galen said in a tone of amused indulgence.

Karl coughed. “If I might…” he began.

Galen cocked an eyebrow in surprise and wondered if the man was going to propose more punishment.

“Lucinda and I have some unfinished business,” the Lord Chamberlain continued.

Lucinda gaped in horror, but she was not surprised. The punishment so far had been tame by his standards.

“That is your affair,” Galen shrugged, “Tzara, you may go and stand in the corner until I send for you.”

“My Lord,” Karl bowed until Galen had turned on his heel and left the room.

Tzara looked at her friend and wondered if she should intervene somehow, but Lucinda made an urgent face and shooed her towards the corner. Feeling guilty now, she reluctantly obeyed, but all the same she found herself curious as to what was about to happen.

“Please my lord, I plead mercy,” Lucinda said and knelt at her lord’s feet.

Karl cupped her face and allowed his fingers to trail through her hair. “I know you lied,” he whispered, glancing once at the now submissive Tzara facing the corner of the room. His eyes lingered on her colourful and welt-stained bare bottom. Then again regarding Lucinda at his feet he added, “You are a loyal friend, but still I must punish you.”

“Yes My Lord,” Lucinda said breathlessly, she wished she was not so aroused, or told herself so.

“Perhaps the split rail or the cross,” Karl leered, “So many possibilities,” and his hand lifted her chin to that he could see her eyes. There was fear in them, of course, but only a little. Her main emotion was lust. “Later I will cane you, perhaps after a taste of birch,” he said.

“My Lord,” Lucinda panted.

Tzara felt her own lust and wished she could turn an watch. Perhaps she could steal a peek once the birching began. Would he cane her first or afterwards, she wondered.

“The rail, I think,” Karl grinned and Lucinda gulped visibly.

To be continued…

Its hard to concentrate when there are so many distractions, but with maturity one can master it.

I seem to have an ever growing list of things that need my attention and the blog is taking third or even fourth place at the moment.

I hope to have a Community tomorrow and another Letters to My Governess shortly. In the Service of the Wolf is almost ready… Thanks to everyone who has emailed me and I will get back to you.

Going away for a short break but we will still be posting next week via pre-scheduled posts.