The fascination with school punishments and the cane seems to go beyond the spanking community. It is less common now, but not so long ago provincial towns and cities in Britain had regular school disco events. These were school days themed club nights where dance goers dressed as either retro British school masters (sometimes school mistresses) complete with cap and gown or as school girls. Inevitably the cane was a regular prop and the bending pose for six of the best was often used in publicity or in newspaper coverage.

Many years ago I read in the Guardian about an adult school for women who wanted to capture the innocence of yesteryear. A 30-something reporter even took part in one of their long-weekends. It was billed as having real classes with set tests. Low achievers and misbehaviour was punished with lines, being sent the corner and the cane.

The whole thing was supposed to be therapeutic, although the journalist hinted that she thought the whole thing might have been a thin disguise for a lesbian fetish party. She didn’t seem to mind that and one wonders if she didn’t volunteer to cover the story.

The event was attended by lawyers, at least one police officer and a number of real life teachers. No one was identified and it was all in strict confidence.

Centre stage was the reporting on the cane. This, we were told, was not played for laughs and real punishments of between four and 15 strokes were handed out, although some participants arranged in advance for alternatives. Something that the rueful reporter wished she had understood; or so she claimed.

How did the organiser (herself a retired headmistress) respond to allegations that some of the caning was too cruel and carried out on the bare?

Apparently classroom punishments were only on the knickers. Bare bottom caning was a private affair. She said that for the less rugged girls, there was always the slipper.

Was our intrepid journalist caned? Anticipating the question, the reporter reported that in her day girls did not tell.

These days there are clubs such as CLASS Ireland or the English Headmaster where you can explore this world.

Part one here

Tzara still lay firmly across his lap. The spanking had lasted for what seemed hours and she had long since surrendered to the idea that it would never end. At some point she had stopped yelling and had given over to moaning and gentle tears.

Sensing that she had reached that point, Galen tilted the woman further across his lap and cupped her lower curves with his right hand. Her bottom was a rich deep red and generating real heat. With a wry smile he noted that the woman was wetter at the hot end than the other and he ran a tender finger down the cleft between glowing rounds.

Tzara groaned and rolled her hips.

“Do you know who is in charge now?” Galen asked in a soothing baritone.

“Yes my lord,” Tzara sighed. At that moment he owned her and she could not even remember who she was.

Galen slowly undid the ties on the back of her gown and then told her to stand up.

Tzara did not want to move, he might spank her some more but at least she was safe.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

Reluctantly and unsteadily she gained her feet and looked at him with lost eyes. The dress slid from her body and into a puddle on the floor leaving her naked except for the breast supporting corset.

“We have established that you are not a virgin in the usual sense of that word, but I will have you as no one has before,” Galen said commandingly.

“Yes my lord,” Tzara could scarce draw a breath.

“Now kneel down and thank me for spanking you,” he said. As he spoke he stripped off his shirt and began unbuttoning his breeches.

His body was magnificent; all smooth rolling curves of muscle all perfectly aligned. Once he slid out of his lower clothing the view got very much better. She had never seen a man so fantastically aroused.

Fellatio had never been her favourite pastime and only a handful of lovers had been worthy of the attempt. But she knew what he wanted and for once she was ready to devour a man down to his soul.

“Thank you my lord, thank you for spanking my bare bottom so soundly,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear. This time she embraced the seeming humiliation of the words and savoured them as she would savour much else. Then eagerly she opened her mouth wide as she knelt forward to take the plum sized head into her mouth.

“Easy girl,” he groaned.

But she knew what to do, too well. He knew at once that a quick roll in the hay was not her only experience.

“You have done this before,” he groaned.

She smiled up at him with her eyes and took her mouth down the whole length of his manhood. Then it was his turn to surrender.

*

The very naked man had to recline to recover himself as her regarded his latest concubine. He watched as she grinned at him and licked the last from her lips and swallowed it. She looked far too pleased with herself.

“You really have done that before,” he chuckled.

“Not like that,” she said insistently. It was true. Never before had she enjoyed that experience. “Thank you my lord,” she added and for once she meant it.

“Nonetheless I must have you as no one ever has before we consummate our arrangement. It is the custom,” he challenged. His honour was up and he would not fail.

“I will do whatever you want,” she said and wondered if she meant it. Her mind raced with endless possibilities, both imagined and seen on countless planets and sex-shows.

“I know that,” he grinned, “But in truth I can only do this once or twice more.”

Tzara sucked in her cheeks and considered his words with excitement. She could still taste him. “I am truly not that accomplished in these matters,” she told him, hoping her words matched his thinking.

He nodded. “I ought to spank you again,” he growled.

She nodded and found herself blushing that she no longer resented the suggestion. “You are the first to do that at least,” she told him.

He looked surprised and his expression softened. “Bend over the bed,” he said.

She darted her gaze to the great four-poster and wondered if she was to be punished again. The idea gave her a surge of arousal and she had to catch her breath. My god, she thought, how to be perverted in one easy lesson. Then feigning reluctance she crawled to the bed and clambered up on to it so that her sore bare bottom was turned to him. What with last night, this morning and whatever he intends for me now I won’t be sitting down any time soon, she thought ruefully.

Once there he moved behind her and instead of spanking her he began rolling his hands over her punished red flesh; soothing oil into her skin until she cooed.

“You know what I intend?” he said softly.

“No my lord,” she whispered.

Then he touched her most intimate place and gently inserted a slippery finger.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“I may have to spank you again just to get… oh no…” he said and she could hear his grin in his voice although she had opted to flop forward and close her eyes.

“Oh my lord,” she said breathless.

“Has anyone ever…?” he asked.

“No my lord,” her eyes flew open and she tensed a little against the sheets.

He smiled and eased his finger in a little more deeply as he began to slide his member through his oil dripping hand. “I am almost sorry,” he murmured. “There was another thing I wanted to try.”

“We can do that too,” she blurted, having no idea what he meant. But distracted by the suggestion, she was taken by surprise when he entered her. She gasped.

For a long second she thought his finger had become a fist and then a whole arm pressing into her. Then pain was bearable but she bit down on the bed cover all the same.

“Slowly, slowly does it,” he said in a strained voice.

Tzara just clenched her face and groaned. This was different that she had expected. The sensations were… she groaned again.

He slid himself all the way in until a biting tight steel ring gripped him at the base of his cock. “Do you hate me now?” he groaned.

“No My Lord,” she gasped.

“Now hold it there,” he matched her breathlessness.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” she panted in time to her breathing. He boldly goes… she thought.

To be continued…

This week and for the next couple of weeks this community page is going to be light. I do hope to continued In the Service of the Wolf and perhaps finish Holodeck Hell, but topical content is hard to queue up.

I will predict that the next few weeks will see spanking horseplay from Czech Republic and a plethora of girls being spanked by Easter Bunnies.

It is worth keeping an eye on the censorship measures being proposed in the UK. To read more about his check out Pandora’s site.

Also Real Spanking are running an offer.

Images are from: AAA, Spanking Blog, Dallas, Grumpy Old Fart, Contemporary Life, and BDSMLR.

Part one here

They had slept and awoken and then made love again, all before falling back to sleep. Now and then he engaged her in a manner she once thought of as conventional. Occasionally he even turned her across his knee for an unrestrained spanking. Little by little Tzara lost herself until no longer knew which was up.

“The sun sets,” Galen said, his words dragging her awake. “I am hungry.”

“We have been… all day,” Tara said in wonder. Strangely she realised that she too was hungry. This was too real, this was insane. She ached at both ends of her body and deep in places she scarcely wanted to think about. Between waist and thighs she was sorer than she could ever remember, especially on the backside and deep between her bottom cheeks her intimate bud sizzled like a tender hot coal. In fact all beyond that felt as if a whole army had passed through.

“Too much?” he asked, one eyebrow quizzically cocked.

Tzara licked her lips and realised she could still taste him. She shook her head. It was true. God help her, she even wanted more.

He smiled. “Let us eat,” he said and pulled a bell rope. “My men will be wondering what happened to me.”

“It seems a shame to get up now My Lord,” Tzara said in her best sultry voice.

Galen studied her with eyes of cold steel before his smile reached his eyes. Having appraised her, he said, “You are all I hoped for, more perhaps.”

“I guess you tamed me,” she answered, deliberately omitting to address him as lord. It was the most challenge she could muster just then.

He didn’t notice and moments later Maria arrived with a tray of food. No doubt she had anticipated the request.

“Oh my god,” Tzara gasped as she was overcome by the scent of the tray.

“Once she has eaten conduct Lady Tzara back to her rooms,” Galen told the maid. Then grabbing a handful of food he strode from bed and headed into the other chamber.

Tzara made to protest and watched his retreating nakedness with longing. Then she saw Maria grinning at her. She shrugged. “The food is good,” Tzara said now with her mouth full.

The maid glanced in the direction of what was presumably a bathroom of some sort. “Much is good no?”

Tzara grinned.

*

The next day Tzara ached in places she didn’t know could ache. Having slept face down, she also suspected that sitting down was still out of the question. Still, she had slept well and after Maria helped her get dressed, she went to breakfast.

The halls were familiar to her now and she found her way to the great hall easily. Only her third day here and already she was already getting acclimatised. As she thought of Galen she had butterflies in her tummy and wondered if… she shook herself. Yesterday had been a long way from her comfort zone in many more ways than one. Her body wasn’t ready to repeat the experience even if she was.  Not that she was sure about that either.

To her disappointment Galen was not at his table, nor was Lucinda. In fact she hardly recognised anyone. She was grateful though that this time there was a pillow at her place on the bench, not that it afforded much comfort so she did not linger.

There was a castle to explore and she still had to work out the purpose of the game. Was the aim to become a great lady and marry the lord of the land? Or was she a spy working for Galen’s enemies. This last thought disturbed her and she found that she hoped not.

He best bet as a starting point was to seek out Lucinda. Maybe her friend would give her a tour of the caste and tell her more about the social workings of this society. She knew that the day before she had been spanked by her master and had spent at least some of the day standing in the corner of his office. Yesterday the very idea had shocked her, but now she was curious. Maybe they could trade war stories.

“You girl,” Tzara addressed a passing maid; she hoped she sound authoritative rather than officious. She suspected she had failed.

The girl dropped a curtsey but otherwise appeared unimpressed.

“Where will I find Lady Lucinda?” Tzara asked the girl.

“In her quarter’s ma’am,” the maid answered.

“Which are?” Tzara pressed her.

The girl all but sneered and made a hazy lazy point down the hall. “The… ladies like yourself are quartered in the west tower… ma’am.”

Tzara might have said more, but she realised now that she was in a privileged position. Lucinda was right, she did have status. “Thank you,” she said.

The girl curtseyed, but her manner softened a little with Tzara’s expression of thanks. No doubt the use of manners to the lower classes was a rare thing.

Tzara followed her nose and soon the castle became both busy and less well decorated. Somewhere food was being cooked, its smells competed with wood smoke somewhere near outside. Also outside someone was hitting something with a hammer with a steady metallic clank and Tzara even heard the neighing of horses.

The west tower was entered through a heavy wooden door off a wide passageway. Somewhere deep in the castle was the kitchens and to the right a courtyard, although Tzara surmised this from the light chill that came from that direction as people passed through another set of heavy doors.

The stairwell beyond the doors was winding, but wide enough. Another passing made a quick bod and told Tzara where to go.

“Oh thank you?” Tzara called out, but the girl had already gone.

*

The door was ordinary enough. It was small and not half as ornate as Tzara’s rooms. It was shaped with an arch that came to a point and a tall woman, let alone a man would have to stoop to enter. Tzara knocked once.

“Who is it?” a distant voice called from within.

“Tzara,” Tzara replied.

There was a long silence and then the same voice, now obviously Lucinda called out, “Please go away.”

“Oh… I only wanted… sorry,” Tzara yelled back. It was awkward talking through a door. “Are you alright?”

Hearing no reply Tzara made to go. Then she heard a groan from within. “You had better come in,” Lucinda called, but she sounded put out and reluctant.

The door opened easily and Tzara entered. “Look I am sorry, I’ll go if…” Then she paused.

Lucinda was naked. Not only that she was tied at the wrists and ankles spread eagled and upright to the bedposts. She had her back to the door so that she faced the bed on which she was unable to lie.

Tzara could see that Lucinda’s bottom was a deep red and mottled with small welts and bruises. It looked at least as sore as her own behind and what a bottom it was.

“Oh my god,” Tzara gasped.

“I apologise for sending you away, please don’t tell my master, it is not really allowed you see.” Lucinda sounded utterly miserable.

“It looks sore, shall I cut you down?” Tzara moved to help.

“Please no,” Lucinda said in panic, “Don’t you know? I am being disciplined.”

“Disciplined? What did you do? I mean…” Tzara walked around so that she could see Lucinda’s front.

“Don’t worry about that,” Lucinda said ruefully. “I am sorry about… well it’s embarrassing.” She made a face. “How can I help?”

“Help? I think you need my help,” Tzara had stifled a laugh. “Are you alright?”

“My arms ache the worse, well apart from my… well you know,” Lucinda made another wincey face and made a gesture that in other circumstances might have been a shrug.

“I could untie you and then tie you up again?” Tzara suggested.

Lucinda laughed and shook her head. “Thank you, but… well for one thing I think I deserve it and another… I could no more lie to my master than… well he would know, I promise you. Then we would both be in trouble. Look it is not so bad.”

Tzara grimaced and began to flutter. She had no idea what to do in the situation.

“Why don’t you sit down? Do you want anything? You will have to summon the maid and won’t she love it?” Lucinda rolled her eyes.

“No I am alright thanks,” Tzara said and sat down and immediately regretted it.

“Looks like you have problems of your own,” Lucinda chuckled.

“Lord Galen…” Tzara chewed her lip shyly.

“Not all blistered bottoms I hope?” Lucinda said.

Tzara blushed and rapidly shook her head.

“I knew you would… suit one another,” Lucinda looked genuinely pleased.

“And the Lord Chamberlain, are you suited?” Tzara looked dubious.

“Karl, Karl is… well Karl. I wouldn’t want him any other way,” Lucinda said ruefully.

“Crazy town,” Tzara sighed. The expression was one from her childhood and lost on Lucinda.

“So how can I help?” Lucinda asked again. Her breasts and naked sex were thrust out and proud. The question seemed incongruous.

“I was… well hoping for a tour round,” Tzara said but gestured to Lucinda’s predicament. “I thought we could compare notes.”

Lucinda chuckled. “Tomorrow I will get Karl’s permission to show you around,” she said, “As for comparing notes, as you say… well you tell me all the grubby details and I will tell you why and how I am being punished.” She winked.

To be continued…

Part I here

It was a very long time before Alice realised that neither John nor Adam were coming back. After getting the mother and father of all spankings from John they had sent her to the corner, teasing her that she would stay there for an hour unless she wanted to get the switch in front of everyone. She had felt variously silly, aroused and humble at her treatment and had wondered if another spanking from Adam would have been so bad. Not that she wanted the promised belt, but maybe that was just part of the general teasing.

At first they had talked about her as if she wasn’t there, unless it was to comment on her sore bottom or how well she had taken her spanking. As time went on it dawned on her that perhaps according to their code she had deserved a spanking and now thoroughly put in her place she was forgiven.

It irked her that she was so accepting of this, but confronting the alternative meant that her cowardice and recklessness might have cost lives. Also she so wanted to rub her sore bottom, but kind of liked that she was too scared to. It was almost as if even such a trivial act by her mattered.

Then they had fallen to serious chatter about the hunters and had taken the conversation outside. She heard enough to know that she was seriously out of her depth and probably always would be.

Then as time went by she began to feel cold and even the burn in her bottom had eased. At least 40 minutes had gone by since they had gone outside and then got it. They had either finished with her or events had over taken them. They had just left her there standing in the corner like inconsequential brat. Well, compared to them in this world she was, she supposed.

It was hard to get mad and with a sigh she lowered her arms. The mirror revealed that her tail end was far from recovered and she turned this way and that to take in the view. Both the recent memory and some enthusiastic medicinal massaging left her breathless and when the door opened after a cursory knock she snatched away errant hands and all but leapt away from the mirror.

“Stacy,” she gasped and relaxed her grip on the towel hastily used to cover herself. “Are you okay?” she said, seeing that the young writer had been crying.

Stacy nodded vigorously and smiled despite the red rimmed eyes. “Are you?”

“I am not altogether sure,” Alice sighed. “You look like you have been crying?”

Stacy flopped down to sit on the bed and then jumped up again with an ‘ow.’ “This time Garrick spanked me,” she admitted, “What is it with these people?” She was rubbing her butt.

Alice offered Stacy a fixed grin as she slowly turned around and dropped her towel. “Snap,” she said with a wince.

“Wow, that looks almost as sore as my behind,” Stacy sounded genuinely impressed. “Who did that?” She leaned in for a closer look.

“The twins figured I needed taking down a peg for our little escape attempt,” Alice said ruefully.

“That was pretty much why Garrick spanked me,” Stacy lied.

Alice stooped to recover the towel and recovered herself. “Figures,” she said sounding unconvinced.

There was a long, long silence and Stacy moved over to a shelf and picked up a stray ornament as if it was fascinating.

“Stacy,” Alice took a deep breath. “Did Garrick say anything about… well, Stacy I saw, I saw what happened. You are one of them.”

“Yah,” Stacy sighed. “That’s what Garrick thinks too.” She put the ornament down and with a sudden wail she rushed forward and hugged Alice. She was crying.

*

Both brothers were not far away. In the days when they smoked they would have paused of a drag or two and watched the world go by. Instead they stood in companionable silence watching the to and fro in the compound and wondered if they should go help.

“You didn’t get to spank Alice,” John told his brother as if just remembering.

“You got it done,” Adam shrugged, “Besides, I figure she was cooked.”

“She looked more like she was going the other way to me,” John shot back. “I mean… I bet she is mad that we left her even if us staying did mean another spanking. Did you see her eyes? Talk about hungry like a wolf.”

“That’s what I mean. She is off balance, so are we for that matter,” Adam said sagely. “We have bigger fish to fry than… well to tell the truth I am stuck on the girl and I think you are too.”

John stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and looked to the heavens with a heavy sigh. His brother was right.

“I don’t think either of us is thinking straight, I know I’m not. Think about it. She is new to all of this before we start fighting over her. Her head must be a whirl.” Adam sounded glum.

“We are not fighting over her, are we?” John folded his arms and met his brother’s gaze.

“No, for the first time,” Adam agreed. “For the first time I care more what she thinks than what you think.”

“We let her choose?” John said and closed his eyes, in a contest he had to lose.

Adam reached out and came close to hugging his younger brother. Instead his hand settled on his shoulder. “We have to let her go. She ran once but her timing was off. Next time…” He swallowed hard. This was new territory for him. Next time she goes I will never see her again.

Just then Jared lumbered across the yard and saw his brother’s deep in conversation. He knew why too.

“Hey, stop mooning over that damn woman and get with the programme,” He bellowed.

Adam’s hackles rose and for a moment he took a warrior stance. It was all instinct and for a moment the air smelled dangerous.

John moved to cover his twin, just catching Jared’s eye to warn him her had his twin brother’s back. But Jared was brother too and the elder. One day he would be Alpha and any confrontation would have been a short one. “We hear you bro,” John answered.

Jared grinned. He knew when not to push. “I need you at my back,” he said.

Adam relaxed and nodded. “You got it boss man.”

Satisfied, Jared jogged away.

The twins exchanged glances. Nothing came between them, nothing would.

*

“So which of those boys are you dating anyway?” Stacy giggled. She was happy to change the subject. It was good to know that she wasn’t the only one getting spanked.

“Dating?” Alice shrugged, “So far both of them, not that that was my plan,” she added.

“I mean…” Stacy grinned.

“I know what you mean,” Alice said quickly, “Since you ask…” she blushed and her mouth formed a smirk, “So far both of them.”

Stacy gaped and her eyes opened wide. “No way,” she gasped and then she grinned, “Way to go girl.”

Alice rubbed her behind. “More fun in the contemplation than the execution I would say,” she said ruefully.

“I have never been with two guys at once,” Stacy bit her lower lip; a famous pop was imminent.

“Stacy,” Alice tried to sound shocked, “I haven’t either.”

Stacy grinned. The idea was there and Alice knew it. The lawyer was blushing.

“Which one do you prefer?” Stacy broke the awkward pause.

Alice shrugged. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I used to think Adam. I have a thing about bad boys. But John is nice and as it turns out he can hold his own in the bad boy stakes.”

“So you like John?” Stacy asked.

“Adam is more vulnerable than he likes to think and all that go-for-it-first think-about-it-later crap is a front.” Alice told her.

“So you do like Adam?” Stacy accused.

Alice screwed up her face and with her teeth on points groaned, “Oh I don’t know.”

To be continued…

As forewarned I am not around to report this week. Here are some drawings I puled off of Contemporary Life last week. One or two are new to me.

Part one here

The castle was the provincial headquarters for the entire region. Tzara learned from Lucinda that Galen was the supreme authority answerable to no one for local matters and was only subject to orders in times of war. The main purpose of the castle was to deny access to the nation’s interior via the many mountain passes and to collect customs and other taxes from the various rural markets and at the toll roads.

“I have never been to Gethomy,” Lucinda told her, “and there has been no war for almost 70 years, so we rarely see anyone from there.”

Gethomy, Tzara has been told was the capital some 80 leagues away, more than a week’s journey on the often poor mountain roads. Only fast mounted couriers made the journey regularly and these days they only brought reports of grain harvests and important marriage alliances.

Tzara looked out at the incredible view and frowned. There was no war and no significant politics of any kind. In fact it was entirely unclear that there was any intrigue or plot to be uncovered at all.

“Where do you come from?” Tzara asked Lucinda.

Lucinda pursed her lips and turned her gaze to the mountains. “See that double peak?”

“The one with the snow on top?” Tzara answered.

“That’s the one, well I was born and lived until I was 18 in a small village on the other side,” Lucinda told her.

“Have you ever been back?” Tzara asked.

“Not much for me there,” Lucinda crinkled up her nose and shook her head. “I had a grandmother or so I thought, turns out her son was not my father. They are all dead now anyway. There are few girls I knew from my childhood I suppose, but they will be married and I doubt we have much in common now.”

“Do you like it here?” Tzara asked her.

Lucinda grinned. “What is not to like? I am well fed and I would rather be the lover of a great man than a peasant’s wife. Look at this place,” she made a wide gesture.

“You are spanked here, and severely punished in other ways,” Tzara thought of the dungeon and the sight of Lucinda tied to the bed posts.

Lucinda laughed; her hand went to her mouth to stifle it but gave up as she gave in to genuine mirth.

Tzara frowned and shook her head in a question.

“My grandmother cut a mean switch and my bare bottom felt it up until the day I left. The village reeve used to have a woman over a birching block if she so much as looked at him. The sight of a bare bottom thrashed raw in the middle of the village green was not an unusual one. The men were chained and set to road repairs if they objected. Most didn’t and most women wouldn’t have expected them too. That is the way of things,” Lucinda said smiling. “You must have come from a very strange place indeed if this is new to you. I am not sure I approve of it.”

“What of the nobility? Are they so harshly treated?” Tzara asked.

“For the nobility it is worse, as I think you are beginning to suspect. The men must hold their tongues and keep their peace or risk offending. Exile is not a pretty thing and the alternative is to fight a duel. That is a silly business and best left to the men,” Lucinda rolled her eyes. “At least the women only have to risk a sore bottom or two… mostly it is not so bad.” She offered Tzara a coy look. Her new friend’s interest in her punishment had not merely been out of concern, that was clear.

Tzara avoided eye contact and decided that to question this reality was pointless. She herself had come a long way to accept it. She was curious to how these rules and customs got to be the basis of this strange society. It was too human to be entirely alien, but she had weeks of subjective time to consider that. She still had to work out the scenario’s objective. Until then she could try and enjoy rough sex, as she had come to justified it, and see if she could get some hiking and climbing in.

“Tell me, are we ever aloud out of the castle?” Tzara asked.

“We might go riding or walking in the forest to the bathing pool,” Lucinda suggested without much enthusiasm.

“And what about free climbing?” Tzara asked.

Lucinda frowned until her face cracked into a laugh and she decided not to ask.

“Never mind,” Tzara said dismissively.

*

The morning air was so sweet Tzara could taste it. She marvelled at the footsteps left in the wet grass and the cascading chorus of birdsong. The mountains looked close enough to touch and for the first time since she had arrived in this place she felt free.

Galen had left her alone the previous night and had already warned her he would busy until late. So skipping breakfast Tzara had used his name to slip through the gates. She had been told that a league and a half from the castle was a cliff face that might be climbed, although this last detail had t been gleaned in a roundabout way, the sport of climbing being unknown. She estimated that a league and a half was about seven klicks or a good two and a half hour hike. She might have asked for a horse, but she didn’t really know how to handle one and so decided that that was for another day with Lucinda. She had packed some bread and cheese, but after failing to steal any boys clothing, she had resolved to climb more or less naked once she got there.

The only thought that had troubled her was getting lost, but after discovering that there was only one track in that direction, and that for a good part of the journey the cliffs would be visible, she decided to risk it.

The forest was beautiful and she was staggered by the plentiful deer that ran heedlessly across the path in front of her or the black and red squirrels that dashed hither and thither from tree to tree. There were bears and wolves too, or so she had been told, but the talkative guard at the gate had dismissed the idea that she would ‘see hide or hair’ of them.

Still, she had to hurry. If she set off briskly she could make it by mid-morning and start back mid-afternoon in time for sunset and supper. She paused only to scan the scene and wonder. The scenario was incredible; realer than real. If the climbing worked out, then she might give up on puzzling out the plot and just try and enjoy a holiday. Suddenly two hours down time being leveraged up to three months did not seem too bad.

*

The climb was arduous and exhilarating. Every handhold had to be felt out and she realised that back home she would never have attempted this without a rope-climb first. Even now she could not help the odd scratch as the rock face roughed up against her body. But the sense of freedom… she grinned. She did not even feel the chill once she got going.

She looked down and her heart leapt at the view. If I fall… what? She suddenly realised that the fail safes might let her get hungry or feel pain, but they would not let her die. If all else failed… my god, she thought, of course I have a way out. Not that she wanted one just then. The thought shocked her. She was what, a pervert, did she like the way…? No, she shook her head, that was just… whatever. But she liked Galen better than any man she had ever actually met and the sex was… she grinned. Then she slipped and it took a moment to recover. Pay attention girl, she scolded herself, but for a second she thought she would fall and the thrill was incredible.

For the rest of that hour she focused on gaining the top. “I only hope there is a quick hike down or else…?” she looked at the sun now low in the sky. The mountains would soon screen it and cast a shadow. That was a detail she hadn’t considered. “You amateur,” she spat and heard the words bounce back over and over for a few moments. She grinned. “I love this place,” she yelled and listened with joy as the words sang back to her.

Distracted by echoes she reached clumsily for a handhold only for it to come away in her hand. She was still holding it when she realised she was falling, a sensation that she never wanted to experience again. Especially not this one, which seemed to last many hours as head over bottom she fell all the way to her death.

To be continued…

Part one here

Tzara awoke with a start. Startled and confused she quickly got to her feet and grabbed at her body to inspect for damage. Looking up she saw how high she had been when she fell and she gasped. Now she remembered the sickening fall, although mercifully not the bone crushing impact. Panting hard she fell to her knees and tried to process what had happened. She had died, in this scenario she had died. She should have woken up back at the start with an opportunity to reset or have been thrown out of the VR suite altogether.

Her mind raced. She had three months of this world and even death would not free her. What if it is longer than three months? The thought made her panic. Even in conventional scenarios there was a small amount of relative time dilation. Only a few moments, but because of the front loaded compression during set-up, the games usually lagged towards the end. Scale that up to account for longer subjective time..? She began to panic.

“Get a hold of yourself,” she said aloud, “You are in the same boat as yesterday.”

“Indeed you are not,” someone spoke. The familiar voice had a razor edge to it and she did not need to turn to know that it was Galen.

“Good afternoon my lord,” she said meekly. She hadn’t done anything wrong had she?

“You are naked,” Galen stated the obvious, “In public,” he added unnecessarily.

Well apart from that, she conceded and cringed. Her hands gathered at her sex and she stood in a half crouch as she turned to face the man.

There were eight riders with Galen, none were smiling and her master was positively glaring at her.

“You left the castle without permission,” he continued, he did not seem the least amused. “To do what?” he looked up at the cliff in astonishment.

“I was…” Tzara began and then realised that in this world even men were unlikely to climb for fun. She swallowed. “I got lost,” she finished lamely.

“I think you lie,” Galen accused her and wheeled his horse in a circle as her drew nearer. “Lady Lucinda said you asked about climbing and the gate guard who saw you out said you were seeking these cliffs.” He looked up again as if try to guess a secret he could not grasp. “Why are you naked out here?”

Tzara hugged herself more tightly and scanned the rocks for her clothes. “I was hoping to swim,” she ventured.

“Lies,” Galen snarled. “There is no pool close by, why would you seek one already disrobed?”

“My Lord, she is a spy,” one of the men suggested.

“She is mad Sir,” said another in a tone that suggested that Tzara’s motives were unimportant.

Ignoring them Galen brought his horse close. “That first day you protested the length of your service. You were more defiant than any woman I have ever…” he threw up his arm in exasperation. “You were running away,” he told her.

“No my lord I…” Tzara protested.

Galen leaned down and without exerting himself scooped her up and deposited her face down across his lap and across the front of the horse’s saddle so that she dangled head down and bottom upwards. “Liar,” he snapped and slapped her exposed bottom hard.

“My lord,” she squealed.

“I will have the truth from you,” Galen hissed and kicked his horse into a trot.

“My lord, my clothes,” Tzara protested

Galen did not listen and breaking into a trot he led the party home.

*

Tzara had been crucified. Not as she had actually first feared with nails, although Galen’s controlled anger suggested he was angry enough to do anything to her. She had been placed face down on a huge wooden cross with a triangular post or peg between her legs. Her hands had been secured with padded straps to the crosspiece and the whole cross had been pulled upright and set into the wall.

The tug on her arms was not as great as she feared and there was a small platform under her feet so that by standing on tip toes she was able steady herself. The jutting post between her legs was the uncomfortable part and she remembered the frame she had had to straddle that first night. This was promising to be a similar experience.

Galen had secured her himself and despite her pleas and apologies he had said nothing to her until she was firmly in place.

“I need to calm down,” he said at last.

“Please my lord I am sorry, I wasn’t running away, truly I wasn’t,” she pleaded.

“I want to be believe that,” he sighed. He already sounded less angry. “But even if that is true… you broke the law and for no reason that anyone can fathom. Have you any idea what the penalty is for absconding? If I defy the rules to save you it will weaken my position.”

Tzara was breathing heavily and she considered his words. ‘Weaken his position’ how? What had she done? Then it occurred to her that he had spoken of saving her.

“My lord,” she said breathlessly, “What will they do to me?”

Galen shook his head and tightened his jaw. “I cannot evade responsibility for this,” he groaned. “If it is found that you were trying to escape a lawful contract then… well then I am required to sentence you to a public flogging and sell your contract to a slaver. You will be exiled as a slave.” His words sounded final.

Tzara gaped and a tear rolled down her cheek. The sharp edge of wood between her legs was already becoming quite pressing.

“Please my lord, I wasn’t running away,” she pleaded.

“Convince me and I might spare you, although god knows it will cost me,” Galen sighed. “You will not like what follows I assure you. In truth it is not me that must be convinced. The Lord Chamberlain is the one you need to persuade and god knows I don’t even know what you think you were doing.”

Tzara’s mind flared. A hundred thoughts tumbled there and she desperate seized at one and then another as she racked her brains for what to say. “Please my lord, then let me explain,” she pleaded.

“Later, think on it first and consider your story well,” Galen warned and then he was gone.

“This is crazy town,” Tzara yelled and then grimaced. Her predicament was getting very uncomfortable and she was beginning to get the point of if, she wryly thought.

*

Tzara had been half hanging and half standing on the cross for an uncomfortably long time. Over and over she had thought about what she could say. The truth would only work if they bought that anyone would be insane enough to climb a rock face without ropes. In reality she knew she never would have done had this been the real world. Not without elaborate and careful preparation. At the moment she had a choice of appearing a liar and therefore guilty or being mad and therefore… she did not follow that train.

“What did you do?” the voice startled her.

“Lucinda, is that you?” Tzara said weakly. She could not turn her head to look down.

“Maria told me, although lord knows what she thought I could do,” Lucinda sighed.

“I wasn’t running, I swear,” Tzara wailed.

Lucinda pursed her lips and looked up at her friend. She had seen much worse restraints; Galen was obviously minded to be merciful. “At least you haven’t been whipped yet,” she observed as her eyes took in her friends bottom.

“Is that good?” Tara didn’t know, she had expected a spanking at least. Then at least she would have known where she was.

“I don’t know,” Lucinda groaned, “I think what you did may be beyond just a good spanking. If it wasn’t I would give you one myself.”

“Galen says your Karl is the one who won’t believe me,” Tzara tried to turn her head a little to look down.

“Believe what? What were you doing?” Lucinda called up.

Tzara took a deep breath. “I was just climbing the rock face, for fun,” she explained, “To look at the view and get a better look at my new home.”

“What?” Lucinda frowned. “You that doesn’t make any sense, don’t you?”

“I am beginning to get that,” Tzara sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Karl won’t buy it,” Lucinda said glumly.

“Can’t you persuade him that I…?” Tzara didn’t know how to finish that question.

“What, that you are stupid girl?” Lucinda finished for her. “You know I might.”

The pressing wood between her legs was really not fun now and Tzara was finding it hard to concentrate. “Please, if I tell you the truth can you please help me put it into words that make sense to Galen and Karl.”

Lucinda looked around and back out of the dungeon. She was torn. “You know if they find me here I will be up on a cross next you and Karl will leather my bottom every day for a month.”

“Then you should go,” Tzara sighed.

“Then when it is nice and sore, he will take a cane to me for good measure,” Lucinda continued her narrative as if to herself.

“Maybe slavery won’t be so bad,” the punished girl sighed.

“Oh that, no it is pretty bad,” Lucinda said matter-of-factly, “So we had better sort this out. Tell me again what you were doing.”

To be continued…

Part I here

In the morning Stacy was feeling her old self. That was confused, self-centred and ready to reshape the world according to her convenience. The clarity provided by Garrick’s spanking had lasted about as long as the soreness in her bottom. She half bent over in front of the mirror and ruefully inspected her naked bottom. It was still red and blotched here and there, but otherwise more or less white.

“The bastard hand-spanked me, so what, maybe I was a little out of line,” she said to the mirror as she hauled up her jeans, “But he is crazy if he thinks I am going to join this little circus. I am not even one of…” she made a frog faced pout and let it go with a pop. It was all crazy and she had to blow this joint and get back to New York.

This time she would duck out without Alice. The highway was maybe six miles from the Stone ranch and she figured once she was missed they would try and head her off before town.

“Not going that way suckers,” she told the mirror. She would hitch a ride and by the time anyone sussed that ruse she would be long gone.

Hastily she gathered a day sack of gear for hasty packing. She remembered to include a travel flask and some energy bars she had swiped days before from the kitchen along with the rest of her stuff and she was ready.

There was a place along the fence where she could wriggle under wire. All she had to do was toss her sack over the fence and if no one noticed she let it lie until nightfall. Then a slight woman like her could slip free. No one would check on her before morning and by then… she grinned at her reflection.

*

Alice tossed a coin and let it fall. It came up heads for the third time and she winced. Heads meant Adam, she sighed. Normally the fact that she had tossed again would tell her that really she wanted John. But before the three in a row for Adam it had come up four times tails and she had been no happier with choosing John.

She slapped the coin flat and made a pout. She couldn’t have either of them. They were semi-mortal monsters, wolf-men and part of a world that she wanted no part of. Even if she did, she would never be accepted. She did not belong.

Flopping onto the bed she rolled over and hugged a pillow. In her wildest fantasies she would have them both. She remembered the spanking by John while Adam watched and cheered him on. She should have been furious, she was damn it. But why did she replay the spanking over and over? In some of hr replays Adam took his turn too and made her beg. Then she had to say thank you and properly. She flushed. They had said it wasn’t a sex thing when they spanked her. She moved the pillow between her thighs and gripped. Of course not, why would she want that? She was breathing faster now and she bit her lip.

“Damn you mister and mister Stone, why couldn’t you be one man and a lawyer from…” she was panting and huskily she finished, “…anywhere.”

It’s was some time later and she lay back only half satisfied. So the Stone brother’s aren’t marriage material. So what? I am a career girl and it is not what I am looking for. So, why not have some fun with one of them at least. Sound rational thinking so far, she congratulated herself. So why chose when they are both doing the chasing? She grinned wistfully. I could set a little test… see which one bites, a contest maybe? She knew that she could not be obvious; things would not go well for anyone, least of all her tail end if things went south.

“What to do?” she purred.

*

Stacy stood primly at the fence and tried to look cute. Then after looking around to make sure she was unobserved she pulled her pack to her chest and like a shot on basket put the day sack over the fence. It did not go far, but far enough to be obscured by the ditch in the shadow of a nearby tree. Then inspecting the wire, she eased her toe under the fence and worked it lose. Certain that she could squeeze under, she took another look round and then ambled away. Midnight seemed a good time to go.

She thought about calling on Alice once more, but she dare not let her in on the plan, not now. Alice would tell, for her own good to be sure, least that’s the way Alice would see it. Still in the act of pondering she reached Alice’s door and shrugged. She had nothing else to do and maybe Alice knew something that would help her escape. She was about to knock when she heard a stifled moan and the creak of a bed. Stacy stifled a giggle. Either Alice wasn’t alone or she was, in any case she did not sound like she would welcome a visit just then.

“Naughty girl,” Stacy whispered and slipped away.

With hours to kill until nightfall Stacy made another slow tour of the compound, proud of herself that she was not even tempted to inspect the fence again or so much as glance at the pack out in the undergrowth.

“Just like butter wouldn’t melt,” a stern voice startled her.

She whirled around to face Garrick holding her day sack.

“This is yours I believe,” he said.

Stacy licked her lips and considered a lie. Then she saw Garrick’s warning gaze and she swallowed down the ill-advised deceit and shrugged. “Yeah, think so, I wondered where it went,” she replied casually.

“It went over the fence near a damaged part of the wire,” Garrick told her.

Stacy’s look of startled innocence was in expert and looked everywhere but the pack leader’s eyes. “Oh, I wonder how it got there,” she said unconvincingly.

“You tossed it over, you were seen,” Garrick folded his arms.

“I didn’t want it,” Stacy offered, but she looked like a kid caught at the cookie jar.

“Not until you made a break for it, anyway,” Garrick accused.

Stacy looked at her feet and made an air kiss.

“You were going to run again weren’t you?” he said. The statement phrased as a question was the biggest break he was going to cut her that day.

“Yah, something like that,” Stacy drawled and dragged one foot coyly through the dust.

“At least you admit it,” the man said and weighed her up as if seeing if she was worth it.

“Totally busted,” she said cheekily and finally met his eyes.

“And how do you think we can handle that?” Garrick asked her sharply.

Stacy made a rueful pout and then ostentatiously winced. “Let me guess,” she popped her lips, “Eh… maybe you are thinking of spanking me?” She was blushing furiously but it was less humiliating somehow to fall back on cheeky bravado.

“I don’t think a spanking quite covers it,” he told her, “So as I have another miscreant to deal with, come sundown you can meet me at the barn. I will deal with you too.”

Stacy levelled a scowl at the man, but something made her hold her tongue. She should be afraid of him, but she wasn’t, not in the way she should be. But Garrick and Augusta had been the only people in her life ever to show her any boundaries. Instead of resenting it she conceded a grudging respect; a respect that left with a strange comfortable tickle all over. Besides, if Garrick wanted to give her a spanking, there was nothing she could do about it except conceded and or make it much, much worse.

“The barn at sundown, do you hear me girl,” Garrick said sternly.

“It’s a date sir,” she said breezily and with a faux cheerful borderline insolence. Little did she know that the half sincere ‘sir’ was the only thing that saved her from an impromptu spanking.

Garrick sized her up for a moment and then shook his head and walked away.

“Shit,” Stacy sighed as soon as the man was out of ear shot.

To be continued…

Finally got back to some updates that take forever, not to mention that I have a backlog at work. So just a quick hello today. Before we went I tried to queue up several posts so as to make my absence seamless, but in the end I didn’t quite get there.

Here are a few images from posts while I was away. Including: Spanking Blogg, Devlin, Spanking Blog, Naturally Gin, and Contemporary Life.

Part I here

Stacy ambled over towards the barn as if out for a stroll. Outwardly she looked every inch the confident New Yorker, a trick largely achieved by the inner conviction that she was a grown woman who was not going to cooperate with whatever Garrick had in mind. This lie was good one and helped her ignore the tumble-turning in her tummy and the lack of moisture in her mouth. It was the first sight of the barn that made her stop and consider making another break for the fence. She made a frog-lipped pout and then one last popping sound. Who the hell did he think he was?

Without considering the question further she picked up the pace and strode to the rendezvous. She was old enough to know that Garrick would not be there yet and would make her wait, but she decided it would be more diplomatic not to test that theory.

The barn was a big one and half open on one side. There may have been doors folded back out of sight but Stacy barely considered this. The place was a damn open plan woodshed and at best only semi-private. Stacey swallowed hard. She had a sudden vision of being put across Garrick’s knee like a child and spanked where everyone could see. Heat coloured her cheeks.

“You gotta see Garrick too eh?” a nervous voice asked.

Stacy turned and saw the girl who had spoken leaning against the wall inside the door. She was olive-skinned with long black hair and had curves to die for. The woman could not have been much more than 20, but from her sad-eyed demeanour she looked somehow younger and reminded the little writer of a girl caught stealing cookies.

“I…” Stacy began, she had been about to claim some pending grown-up encounter with the pack leader but something about the innocent posture of the young woman made a lie unworthy. “It looks that way,” she finished.

“What did you do?” the Latina girl asked anxiously.

Stacy found some bravado and managed a smile. “I kind of tried to skip town,” she said.

“Ouch,” the girl said and made a sympathetic wincey face.

Stacy shrugged, “You?” she shot back.

“I was late with my chores and then during gun practice I got over excited and accidentally fired a stray round,” the girl said ruefully, adding at a gush, “God, I nearly killed Mr Danson.”

“And that is a bad thing?” Stacey said, remembering the bossy gate guard.

The girl giggled. “Lana, my name that is,” she gave Stacey a little wave, but didn’t move from leaning on the barn wall.

“Stacy Lane,” Stacy said tersely and gave a nod.

“Oh I know who you are,” Lana gushed and then not knowing what else to say she looked down.

“That figures,” Stacy sighed. “What is the deal here anyway?”

Lana looked up and eyed the older woman. “We’re gonna get a whopping, you know that right?”

Stacy took a deep breath, “Yeah, I sort of got that impression.” Then she folded her arms defensively and rounded on the girl. “Aren’t you mad, I mean, aren’t you too old to get a spanking?”

“A spanking? If I was just going to get a spanking I would have been sent to Augusta and if I didn’t think I deserved one before I went over her knee I sure in hell would think so by the time she was done with me. Augusta kind has that way about her, you know,” Lana’s short outburst tailed off into wistfulness. Then she added, “About now I would kinda settle for that. No I am not too old, not in these parts; leastways my folks wouldn’t think so. Look there is no point in talking big around here. I am just a kid.” She shrugged. Then asked, “You ever been spanked? By Augusta I mean?”

Stacy blushed. “Yeah,” she admitted, “I suppose I know what you mean. I kind of felt the same when Garrick spanked me too.” The sudden realisation startled her, as did her open admission to this girl.

Lana gaped in wonder. “Are you kin?” she asked. “I mean Garrick never… well rarely, I mean… sorry, not my beeswax. I guess you aren’t too old then.”

Stacy hated the comparison. “I am kind of older than you,” she protested.

“Last year my cousin Maria answered Augusta back,” Lana made a face, “She is 27. Ask her if she is too old for a spanking.”

Stacy laughed. The revelation was oddly comforting. “What is a whopping then, as you call it?”

“You never got a…?” Lana gaped.

“I am a city girl, we don’t go in for these charming country customs,” Stacy said.

Missing the sarcasm Lana just continued to gape. “Look girlfriend, you best get ready to say goodbye to the skin on your ass and get resigned to the fact that you won’t be sitting down for the rest of the week. Maybe longer,” she grimaced, “Although maybe that is just me. I figure shooting a gun may be just a little… oh God.”

“This is not your first… run in with Garrick then?” Stacy asked.

Lana relaxed. “Hell no, me and Keri… you know,” she shrugged.

“You lived then,” Stacy snorted, wondering if the girl wasn’t exaggerating.

“Yah,” Lana sighed, and then offering a sympathetic smile she added, “And so will you.”

Stacy made a pout and then let her lips release with a pop. Then she too walked to the barn wall and leaned with her back to it. Then they both fell silent until the stillness of the barn began to feel tangible. Outside there were shouts and the sounds of ranch life, but the world beyond seemed disjointed somehow, like the two of them existed in a bubble and had become the only two people in their own little world.

Stacy scanned the barn and marvelled at the zillion dust particles that hung suspended in the sunlight pouring through the one high window. The air smelled sweet like fresh hay mixed with corn but there was under odour of pine wood and leather. She looked at the objects hanging on the barn wall and tried to fathom their uses, quickly avoiding dwelling on any strap like trappings or lengths of wood resembling canoe paddles.

There was a bench in the corner and a couple of trestles, for cutting wood she guessed, but one had sackcloth wrapped around the cross piece, which formed some form of padding. She looked away. On one wall were axes, saws and other tools and somewhere in that direct Stacy could smell oil. She sighed.

“What’s it like?” she said at last.

“What, a whopping?” Lana replied.

“No,” Stacy said, “The other thing.”

Lana looked puzzled and frowned.

“Having a wolf inside you I mean,” Stacy explained.

Lana’s puzzlement grew and she looked away as if she were thinking. She shrugged. “I turned when I was 15, but I always knew I would, or I hoped I would. Both my folks… well it was no big deal in our family. But I dunno, never thought about it before. I wonder what it is like not having the blood.”

Stacy breathed through her mouth and wondered if she even knew anymore.

“I heard you were one of us too. Least that’s what they are saying. Is that true?” Lana asked.

Just then a heavy footfall announced Garrick’s arrival and both girls straightened up. Stacy noticed that Lana blanched a little a licked her lips nervously.

“So ladies, are you ready to be taken to task?” the pack leader asked paternally and stretched his gaze between them. He beckoned to Lana and indicated that she should go stand next to Stacy.

“Yes sir, I guess,” Lana replied as she complied with his silent order.

“Look,” Stacy began.

Garrick swivelled his eyes to fix on her with a hard stare. “Miss Dane?” he said.

“I don’t want to be here, I didn’t ask to be here and I see no reason…” Stacy continued.

“I don’t want to be here,” Garrick said sharply. “Not in this barn, not in this situation, which I might add you help start and certainly not here dealing with a new cub who doesn’t know which end to shit from.”

Lana looked horrified at this vulgarism and shot a look of pity at Stacy.

“Fate picked me, fate picked you. You are here. I have to deal with that and you have to deal with that. While you are here you obey my rules,” Garrick snapped. His ire seemed directed at both of them now.

“I could just leave,” Stacy wailed.

Garrick rounded on her. “And do what? Run to the hunters, try and make it on your own… in New York?”

“I managed so far,” Stacy replied, now with little conviction.

“Have you? Then what are you doing here bringing the hunters down on us? No Miss Dane you have not managed so far. Your whole adult life, and I use that term loosely, you have been chasing your tail. You have been living some kind of double life where one existence has been denied, while the other endlessly searches for the truth. Look around you, you have found it,” Garrick’s voice didn’t waver, but at the last he sounded weary. “How many times must you I tell you?”

Stacy glowered at him, half hearing and half screaming in protest inside.

“Look, let me put it this way. You are what you are and you are here. I either have to protect you and bring you in or I have to treat you like a renegade. You live or you die. It is that simple. Living means falling into line, for now anyway.” Garrick spoke like a man standing at the end of a road.

Stacy nodded. “So you’re the boss, what now?” She sounded defiant.

Garrick sighed. That would do; for the moment anyway. “Now ladies, you drop your pants and panties.” As he spoke he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops on his pants.

Lana looked at Stacy and swallowed hard. “Yes Sir,” she replied and half bent to obey.

Stacy grimaced. She thought about making a run for it, but that was futile. I have to get out of here, she thought. Then like Lana, she began to take her pants down.

To be continued…

Part I here

By the time Stacy’s pants and panties were around her ankles she saw that that Lana too was standing in a puddle of denim, her face sour red and apprehensive. The writer took a moment to look around for any sign that anyone was watching, but at the moment no one is in the immediate vicinity. Still that did not help her feel any less exposed. She caught Lana’s eye in the hopes of the comfort of comradeship.

Garrick had moved across the barn floor and was hauling the sack-padded trestle away from the wall with one hand. No sooner had he set it square facing the open barn then he beckoned to Lana.

“You know why you are here,” he said.

“Augusta was pissed that I overslept,” Lana mumbled.

“No doubt she was,” Garrick said in an amused voice, “But if that was the only reason you were here then Augusta would have dealt with you herself, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes Sir,” Lana agreed and looked at the ground.

“So why are you here?” Garrick asked again.

Stacy looked around again and wished the man would get it over with. At any moment someone might come by or even have business in the barn. She was standing around with her pants down and her naked butt hanging in the breeze. Her hands clamped firmly to her sex and she shrank into herself a little more.

Lana was stuttering out answers to Garrick’s questions. “I accidentally fired a shot in practice,” she was mumbling again.

“You want to give me any excuses about that?” Garrick looked at his watch.

“No Sir,” Lana whispered.

“Over you go,” he sighed.

Lana shuffled forward until her hips were level with the trestle top and then she flopped over it so that her bare bottom was pointing at the roof.

“Grip the lower crosspiece with your hands and keep your legs together,” Garrick told her. He looked away as she complied and wondered at the shamelessness of the young, didn’t she get how exposed she was down there. His own sisters had known how to be demure when woodshed time came around. Although he remembered fondly hiding in the hayloft while his Pa dealt with them. You could hear the caterwauling clear up the valley once Pa got started. He could swear a leathered bare bottom was redder in those days.

He had been too young when war had come to the North, but with brothers and brother-in-law in the army it had been left to Pa to handle the womenfolk. It had been quite an education for a teenaged boy, but he hadn’t appreciated what a chore it had been for his father.

“You ready?” Garrick asked once Lana was done fidgeting.

“Yes Sir,” she answered in a muffled voice.

Lana’s bottom was hardly white and there was scarcely a tan line. If he didn’t know better he would swear she had been sunbathing nude, but he guessed skinny dipping might account for it. In any case that was Augusta’s business. He did note that the girl had Spanish heritage, with full round hips and a heroic bottom. Half these Mex girls had native blood he knew, it made them tough. Tougher still was the curse and she would heal right enough.

His belt landed across her hips with a heavy crack and she grunted. He waited for a light band of red to form before swiping her bottom with another lash of leather. This time her gasp was more pained.

Stacy felt strangely elated as she watched and her hand strayed to her bottom and cupped it. She looked again for any audience and saw no one. She could feel the impacts from where she stood.

Eight or nine strokes in Lana’s bare bottom looked sore and there were the soft blisters at the edge of the impact zone. Lana herself gave out with a throaty growl at each lash, but otherwise she was taking it well.

Stacy wondered how many and if she would get more or less. Her fingers studied her bottom, contrasting the cool white with the hot red of Lana’s bottom. Then she saw one of the men pausing in the yard outside and she blushed. His eyes were on Lana’s tail but when he saw Stacy looking he winked and strolled away. Stacy’s face blushed as hot as Lana’s bottom.

Then the Latina girl shrieked, the edge of the belt had bitten hard that time. Stacy guessed that was 20 or so at least. No wonder the girl was crying.

Lana’s bottom was on fire and she had begun to squirm and kick. She had hoped to be braver in front of the outsider, but she guessed Garrick was determined to skin her pride along with her ass.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as another lash blasted her bottom.

“Hurts, does it, as much as a bullet to the head?” Garrick scolded. “How many times do you need to be told?”

Lana rode the burn as snot and tears rolled down her face. She had it coming, she guessed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed.

“When we are done here,” Garrick said, “And that may take some time, you will apologise to Danson. You can tell him he has my blessing to turn you over his knee too if he has a mind to.”

“Yes Sir,” Lana sobbed.

As Stacy watched, she licked her lips, only half in apprehension and swung around to see if anyone else was watching. A young woman hurried across the yard, but she didn’t so much as a glance. Then she looked back at Lana’s sore bottom.

The blisters were prominent now and the red had turned ruddier on Lana’s darker flesh. She hadn’t been counting, but the number of lashes must have topped 30 or more. Lana was sobbing hard and her legs kicked and splayed with every stroke.

“Not sure we are done here, but for now you can stand up,” Garrick said.

Lana didn’t move but just flopped over the trestle and bawled like a spanked teen.

“Come on,” Garrick said gently and put his arm on her shoulder.

This time Lana eased herself to her feet and sniffed as she wiped her eyes.

“Thank you Sir,” she said miserably.

Garrick nodded and then turned to Stacy. “Right, your turn,” he said.

Stacy took a deep breath and half a step forward. She took another glance for an audience, strangely her biggest concern just then, and seeing no one she felt suddenly curious. It was hard to walk with her pants still around her ankles but she managed it and all too soon she felt the coarse sackcloth scrub her lower belly.

“Over you go,” Garrick told her.

Stacy gulped and shot the man a look of apprehension. Then with a heavy dejected sigh she obeyed and her world turned upside down, both figuratively and literally.

Watching, Lana was still crying and trying to get her breath under control. Her bottom was scorched like a son-of-a-bitch and she hoped from foot to foot in the parody of a dance while her hands clawed at her bottom as she tried to shake out the sting. Garrick had said they were done, but for now, holding out the possibility that she and him would go round two. That ongoing possibility dampened her sense of relief.

Had it not been for that she might have enjoyed the sight of the older woman ass up over the trestle. She was certainly envious of the smaller pert tightness of New Yorker and she compared it to Keri’s, the only other bottom she had regularly seen in similar circumstances.

In any case it was hard not to enjoy Stacy’s predicament just a little, seeing the high and mighty city girl taken down a peg or two was almost worth getting a licking herself. Mixed with this was sympathy for the coming ordeal, knowing as she did that this was the woman’s first time. Lana sniffed, at last managing not to cry.

Garrick had yet to start thrashing Stacy and now stood behind her with his folded belt and contemplating the pert target presented to him. The girl was soft and neither of them was going to enjoy this, but she just wouldn’t learn.

“I tried being reasonable with you,” he said with a sigh. “I let you off with a spanking, when I should have brought you here from the first. I understand your confusion, I really do,” he sounded weary. “I don’t even blame you for Coleridge, not entirely. You didn’t know what you were doing. But running away and keep on running away is not helping anyone, least of all you. I wish I could bring you to this more slowly, guide you as my folks guided me, as I have others. We just don’t have the time; you saw to that when you called in the hunters. You have to stop defying me.”

Garrick moved closer. “So now I am going to make this very simple for you, you will stay here until this situation is resolved. While here you will obey our rules. You will learn that there are consequences.”

Stacy worked the dryness in her mouth. She had never felt so exposed and although she took comfort from Lana’s presence because she had not been singled out for humiliation, it was nonetheless embarrassing and she wished he would get on with it.

Still every word he said hit home. This had been all her fault. Coleridge had played her.

“Look I get it, I am sorry,” Stacy protested, “But…”

“If you were sorry then we wouldn’t be here,” Garrick cut her off. Then the strap came down with a will.

The crack was loud and sharp. Stacy could not believe how much hit hurt, she had never felt anything like it. “Oh Jesus Christ,” she exclaimed.

The fire burned across both bottom cheeks and low. She hated that she had to twist her bottom about, but she could not keep still.

The second lash burned worse and this time her yell was more incoherent.

“Oaky, okay,” she gasped, “I get it, no running away, keep to the rules, I get it.” She already panting hard the sting had taken on a life of its own.

Garrick didn’t respond. He brought the strap down again hard, this time curving under her bottom so that he seared the upper part of her thighs.

Stacy screamed. “Please, I get it,” she yelled angrily.

Garrick had heard it or so many, many times before. When Woodrow Wilson has been president, young women had sung much the same refrain. It was no different for the women of the Great Depression or when the bombs fell on Europe. These girls all thought they were different, wiser, more defiant of authority, all through the 1950s, 60s and onwards. They all knew it all. He struck again and to make a point followed it with another.

“Godandjesusinheaven,” Stacy gasped. “Please, no more, I understand.”

Stacy wondered if her bottom was actually on fire.

“Sure,” Garrick muttered and added another lash across the top of her bottom so that the band of red extended to the full length of her cleft. Then again right across main curves.

Stacy yelled out. “Please,” she whimpered. “I won’t do it again.”

Garrick brought the strap down again and then again and once more before changing his stance.

Stacy twisted a screamed, grinding into the harsh sackcloth as if that could distract her from the burn.

“I’m sorry,” she yelled angrily.

For the next two minutes Garrick delivered the swats in slow sets of three, perhaps a dozen, perhaps 15 lashes, he didn’t count. By then her bottom was a vivid red and standout welts framed the impact area as well as forming two donut pads on the crowns of her bottom, extending to where she sat. Then he paused.

Stacy was sobbing hard and her hips and bottom rose and fell with her breathing. Her tail was two spheres of fire and she knew in that moment she would do anything.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed and then snivelled. “Please no more, I’ll be good.” She sounded like a child.

“Think past pain, think about what you did,” Garrick said gently.

She had run. Not from the hunters, but from the whole crazy situation. If she could only get back to New York…

“Doesn’t hurt so much now, does it?” Garrick whispered.

He was right, it didn’t.

“I wouldn’t do this if you couldn’t take it,” he said. “What you feel is your denial.”

Stacy sobbed miserably and wondered what she could say to make this over.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Sorry you were caught, Garrick thought. “Are you going to obey me now?”

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed.

Lana was shocked that Stacy’s bottom looked so raw after what must have been half the strokes she had gotten. Maybe that was because she had a small butt, she thought. Also the older woman was such a cry baby; it really was her first time. Her sympathy evaporated, and she was jealous of the way Garrick spoke to her. It was pretty good pain control too, she had to admit. It was true then, she was one of them.

Garrick leaned down low and whispered to Stacy so that Lana could not hear. “I know you are still defying me,” he hissed, “That is alright, this is a hard road for you. However, honour dictates that I warn you. Next time you defy me or try to run, I will have you back here and you will think that this is mere bottom slapping. Please at least try to pretend, for your sake and the sake of others.”

Then he stood. In all justice he should give them both another round, but Stacy had had enough and her sin was as bad, if not worse than Lana’s. He thought about humbling them to the max and have stand with their noses to the outside wall facing the compound. It was just what they both needed to focus their regrets. However, the pack could do without the distraction.

“Alright, help her up. Both of you will face that wall,” he pointed at the back of the barn, “Until I send someone to collect you for your chores. Lana, where will your pants and panties be during this time?”

“Around our ankles Sir,” Lana said hastily.

“Good girl, the air will do you good,” he grinned. Then he strode away with his belt slung over his shoulder.

After Stacy was on her feet she began to hop about massaging her bottom. She wanted to cry again, but the fact that Lana was almost cheerful now curtailed that urge.

“Come on,” Lana groaned and stopped to pull her pants to her lower thighs. Then she walked to the wall. Before allowing her clothing to fall again she glances around to see if anyone was watching and then she turned to face the wall.

“What are you doing?” Stacy asked in consternation.

Lana looked around. “You heard the man, we have a time out,” she sighed.

“You’re kidding,” Stacy gaped.

“You heard him,” Lana insisted, she had a sudden rush of dread that Stacy was going to get them both into trouble.

Stacy had, but she hadn’t quite taken it in. She had seen others in the compound do the same, now it was her turn. She felt her face melt. She wasn’t a kid like Lana. She looked outside and hoped no one was looking. Then back at the trestle, no way was she ever going through that again. “Oh God,” she said wearily and bent down for pull up her things, but not all the way. Then she too hobbled over to stand next to Lana. “This is too much.”

“Isn’t it just,” Lana sighed.

Stacy felt such a fool, but all same she let her pants fall down and turned and faced the wall. “What if anyone sees?” she sighed.

“Oh they will,” Lana groaned, “They will. The supper table will be a bitch.”

To be continued…

I was looking for some stories arising from Easter, a traditional spanking season, for an article. I found a whole lot of posts around various pagan festivals, many of which have some spanking (or flagellation element). In addition to Easter: Lupercalia, Beltane, Yule and mid-summer all seem to have some flagellation rites.

Since this requires rather more research, I have put on the pending list with so many other posts.

What I did find was the story of an Edwardian woman who got rather carried away with the rites of spring. According to Titbits Magazine, one 33-year-old Florence Mason was persuaded to strip down to ‘nothing more than a gauzy singlet’ by a Bohemian Isadora Duncan-type and dance.

There were several women involved in the affair at a private garden in Belgravia (a smart district of London) but sadly for her the grounds were overlooked and the police were called.

To avoid scandal, ‘and for the sake of the ladies’ children,’ the case did not get to court but the magazine’s gossip column alleged that Mrs Mason got more than she expected.

Mr Mason took his errant wife across his knee and ‘applied a good sound smacking to her naked derriere.’ How did the columnist know? Apparently Florence proudly told friends that her husband had forgiven her and that he had ‘put more than his foot down,’ indeed, ‘a good stout slipper had been applied where it would do her the most good.’ And where was that, she was asked.

“If you must know, the beast gave me a good sound spanking,’ with the admission that she had been wearing more when she had been dancing.

I have been thinking about moving this feature to Tuesday or Wednesday. That way the week can get started and I will have time to look around what else is going on. As it is a busy weekend has left me with another rushed start to the week.

This week is May Day, fertility rites and pagan flagellation is very much in vogue. It is likely that a few blogs and others will run some features on this theme.

Thank you too all those who have commented or got in touch with your encouragement and best wishes. I did get a brief spate of trolls too, but that is all under the bridge now.

Generally visitors are up to over 70 percent of the levels we had before the hiatus.

Last week I missed that Heart and Soul had a summary of new blogs.

This week other contributions come from Richard Windsor, AAA, FHS, Devlin, Contemporary Life and Chicago Spanking.

Today is May Day, also known as Beltane, Bale and a host of other names. It is the day that in some pagan traditions young women take a spanking (or a switching) in the name of the goddess as a fertility rite.

The early (Christian) Church tried to miss-associate this tradition with variously Satan or a demoness, but the old ways die hard and by the early modern period most local clergy turned a blind eye to such celebrations.

You can get taste of such goings on in the 1970 movie The Wicker Man, which apart from the ending is not a million miles from how some British villages still celebrate these things.

Later May Day was co-opted by the socialists because of its revolutionary origins and in some countries it is still known as Labour Day.

In the UK the public holiday is not until Monday, but wherever you are have a good one.

Part one here

Tzara had been ‘crucified’ facing a large wooden cross. There were no nails, but the triangle of wood that bore most of her weight was getting decidedly uncomfortable. She felt that she was being split long ways and this time she decided that it probably served her right. Talking it over with Lucinda had made her seem how ridiculous the whole situation was how poorly she had been dealing with it.

But the pain was harsh and the blunt wedge between her legs was splitting her bottom cheeks deeply. Much more of this and she would beg for a spanking or the lash. It was distracting.

“Please, I’m sorry,” she cried out in the vain hope someone was listening. Then she gritted her teeth. “I have to focus,” she hissed.

This world was made for her to what, suffer? It was supposed to be fun, so what was she missing. a real challenge with real consequences maybe? She gritted her teeth and thought all the things she would do if she was only allowed to get down from this damn cross.

Ideas and strategies rolled over and over in her mind but everyone ended in an ever sharper pain splitting her where she lived so that she yelled out for forgiveness.

Hours, days, centuries past and finally she started to cry.

“Alright, alright, it is not that bad,” said a weary voice.

Tzara couldn’t turn her head but the voice was familiar.

“Who is that?” she sniffed.

“Tzara it is alright,” Lucinda urged, “It is my Lord Chamberlain.”

“Lucinda told me that you and she had a foolish wager,” Karl spoke in a snarl, “Foolish women.”

“Wager?” Tzara blurted now confused.

“I am sorry I told,” Lucinda said quickly, “But I could not lie to my master.”

“Lie?” Tzara sucked in air. But before she could say more the cross shook and began to both lower and lean forward so that the pressure between her legs was immediately eased. In a moment it was low enough for her to be helped off by Lucinda.

“I am going to teach my Lady Lucinda a lesson that she will never forget,” Karl said gruffly, “But first you must both be punished for a foolish wager and indulging in childish dares. Your games do not permit you to ignore the rules and leave the castle.”

Tzara looked at Lucinda who shrugged and gave her a look.

‘Thank you,’ Tzara mouthed back.

“It was all I could think of,” Lucinda whispered.

“But you…” Tzara hissed.

“Shush, I can handle it,” Lucinda urged.

“Quiet girls,” Karl snapped, “Lucinda I want you naked. Then we will wait for our lord Galen.”

*

When Galen arrived Tzara and Lucinda had been stood facing the wall for some time. Tzara still ached where she wished she didn’t but at least she was off that cross. She could not believe that Lucinda had thrown herself to the wolves to save her, although the prospect of a punishment at the hands of Karl chewed at her somewhat and she knew it wasn’t over yet.

Finally Galen swept into the room and took charge. “I see you have finally got to the bottom of things,” he said.

“Oh not yet, that is yet to come,” Karl chuckled and gave his lord a wink. “But I did find out what was behind all of this foolishness, these girls had a wager of some kind, if you like a dare. I don’t suppose the details matter,” he added, but he had already forgotten exactly how Lucinda had explained it. Once he had been convinced it was women’s folly he had been satisfied.

Galen narrowed his eyes. He was tempted to ask; after all he was still curious as to why his concubine had been discovered naked in the woods so far from the castle. However, if the Lord Chamberlain was satisfied he would let the matter rest for now.

“Are they both equally to blame?” Galen asked, although he suspected that Lucinda may have been largely innocent.

“I am certain of it,” Karl said sharply.

“Is this true?” Galen snapped and then added, “Turn around.”

Both women turned and hugged their breasts. Neither could meet his eyes.

“Yes my lord,” Lucinda mumbled.

Tzara looked at her and seemed about to protest.

“Very well,” Galen growled before she could speak. “Both of you will place yourselves side-by-side over that bench.”

Karl grinned and nodded with satisfaction. “Will you do the honours my lord?”

“Not entirely, a lesson must be learned,” Galen answered. “I am not sure who the biggest fool here is,” her added, meaning the Lord Chamberlain.

Karl just nodded and smiled, “You are so right my lord.”

Already bottom up and head down over the bench Tzara shot a glance at her friend next to her. Lucinda smirked.

“He knows,” Tzara whispered.

Lucinda smiled enigmatically and gave her friend the smallest of shrugs.

“The paddle and the switch will serve them well,” Galen decided and then he turned to Karl, “Both from both of us.”

Karl arched his brows, while out of sight Lucinda and Tzara gaped and exchanged nervous glances. Neither now smiled.

“Do you agree?” Galen asked the Chamberlain.

“I do my lord,” Karl grinned.

“Paddle first then,” Galen said and strode over to the wall where paddles and whips were hung. Taking a stout paddle about a yard long he hefted it. Then thinking the pole too rigid he took a slightly longer one that was less heavy but more flexible. He nodded. “You may select the riding switch when the time comes,” he told the Lord Chamberlain.

Karl brightened at this, he was not convinced the paddle selected was harsh enough; his choice would soon amend this lapse.

Galen studied the two bare bottoms side-by-side and took up a stance. He heard Lucinda gasp; he guessed she knew what was coming. Typically Tzara seemed more defiant. The set of her bottom suggested as much.

Using the paddle Galen patted both bottoms in turn and felt their firm resistance to the contact. He was pleased when Tzara give a little anticipatory squeak when the paddle touched her. Two dozen each, he decided and lined up on Tzara.

The first swat was sudden.

Tzara’s eyes flew open in shocked surprise at the overwhelming burn across her bottom and she was robbed of breath. She was still processing the pain and hoping to breathe when the second swat landed. “Ahhh-jjhhh,” she groaned and clamped her jaw.

Galen waited for her to catch a breath while he studied the dull pink patch on her bottom growing ever sharper before his eyes. “Do you think it is a good idea to leave the castle without permission?” he asked.

“No my lord,” Tzara managed as she wiggled her bottom.

Galen paddled her again.

This time Tzara yelled and then growled her protests under her breath.

Having struck three times Galen doubled the count and watched her pink bottom deepen to an angry red. She was panting now and walking around to the front he could see was welling up with tears.

“Do you think it was a good idea to cavort naked in the woods?” Galen asked her.

“No my lord,” Tzara whispered.

He struck again, this time with an increased impact so that the thwack echoed around the chamber and his woman reacted with a heartfelt cry. Then after a beat he added another swat.

“Do you think it is wise to defy me?” he asked her.

“No,” she wailed, unable to saying anything more coherent. She was properly crying now.

Over the next minute he paddled her four more times, getting a healthy screech at each swat until Tzara was a bawling mess.

The dozen having been given Galen turned to Lucinda. Her larger fuller bottom was more relaxed and he knew she was more used to this treatment. He also suspected that she was far less deserving. Still he had his part to play and it had been Lucinda who had dealt him this particular hand.

“Lucinda, Lucinda, Lucinda,” he sighed. “I really thought you would know better.”

“Yes my lord,” she replied and licked her lips in nervous anticipation. “I am sorry my lord.” She shot a glance at the tear-filled misery on her friends face without a shred of sympathy.

Galen compared the tight pert red sphere of Tzara’s bare bottom with the full still white one of Lucinda’s.

“Yes my lord,” Galen said and then without warning spanked Lucinda soundly with the paddle.

Lucinda grunted, determined to be brave and knowing it was a futile gesture.

Galen struck again and then thrice more. Then he made a turn of both women bent over the frame to see how they fared.

Tzara did not look up, but Lucinda gave him a mournful glance so that he could see that her eyes were bloodshot and brim-full of tears.

“Good, I see you are learning,” he said.

“Yes my lord,” Lucinda said in a firm voice.

Five more paddle strokes landed, this time Lucinda yelled out, as well she might. Her bottom was bright red and raw; she cried freely now.

“Two more,” Galen said.

Lucinda sucked in air and shook her bottom at him as she braced herself.

Galen landed the last swats with full voice to extract a decent scream from both impacts. “Your turn,” he said to Karl and handed him the paddle.

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…