The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 7)

“Mrs. Cleanknockers is an artist with the stick,” m’lord said with approval. He squeezed firmly. I was determined to take my punishment in silence. I learned something that day: the male fingers are nothing like the female touch. The leather strap lay cool and slick on my bare hindquarters. The first blow is always a shock. The sharp snap rings in your ears. The bite on your flesh stings, there is a delayed reaction as the mind tries to reconcile sound and burning sensation. The second blow compounds the confusion. The third and the fourth: you hiss. “Lift up Ruby.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 6)

Gentle Reader, I have not yet mentioned the uniforms: even today, worn for my husband’s pleasure allows a blush. The Ladies Journals with engravings of floor length modest dresses: we maids were not allowed such protections and, except during our delicate time of the month, no undergarments. Unaware, until m’lord reached behind me, there was a drawstring, when pulled and hooked to a button at my lace collar, raised the flounced hem in back as a curtain at a bawdy play. My entire nether cheeks were exposed to a male gaze for the first time. M’Lord traced the cane welts.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 5)

I gulped back sobs as His Lordship shut the wardrobe. “I was going to strap you later after you’ve dusted, but based on your hysterical overwrought theatrics you’ve now earned twice daily discipline for the next week.” He touched my tear stained cheeks and smiled affectionately. “You are not going to be ‘sold’ you silly chit: all my girls are offered the opportunity of marriage to established men of the mercantile class. We will train you in the social and amorous arts and provide you with ample funds. Now! Bend over my desk Ruby and prepare to be soundly strapped.”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 4)

Through thick fringe I covertly watched as m’lord rose and walked to a tall wardrobe. The doors were swung open and he pulled a tray outwards. I saw hundreds if not thousands of vertical folders in varying thicknesses. “Ruby, luscious Ruby,” m’lord muttered softly and placed my fate into a vacant slot. “Please m’lord,” I beseeched, “I’ll do whatever you say, but don’t sell me to a brothel!” M’lord spun around. “What on earth?” His mouth gaped. “I heard Mrs. Cleanknockers sir!” I could not prevent the tears. “Ruby! Cease your caterwauling at once! This is not a Penny Dreadful!”

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.

Daddy’s Playboy March 1965

A drabble of exactly 100 words.

Monthly Friday Flash based on the picture below

vintage playboy

Miss March 1965

“What’s that honey?”

“It’s Daddy’s Playboy from March 1965. The issue when I learned I was attracted to women… and when you spanked me for stealing and sneaking into your bedroom.”

“I remember now. You were one unhappy young lady for the next month.”

“I never could decide which was worse; your hairbrush or his belt.”

“Are you ready to get your wife?”

“In a minute. I want to add the magazine.”

Mother and daughter closed the door leaving behind a Purple Heart, a Silver Star, the Playboy and a beloved father and husband in his satin lined oak coffin.



Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie: Episode #12

Pity poor Stephanie 25-years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fasionista with a good job and an all around delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm leading men and women both to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault, genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end plus a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline, if someone needed to spank her well obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.

click here for The complete Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie Series

Click here for Wicked Wednesday prompt

Ross was in a foul mood when he brought Stephanie back home Monday night. Nothing had gone right at the venue. The electricians walked out when the union rep filed a grievance, the water in the changing rooms was shut off after a leak developed and the catwalk was discovered to be ten feet too long. Stephanie had tried to assist but was brushed off and Ross had begged his father and Fleur to forget about having her model in only two days. They both turned a deaf ear to his complaints and suggested he was simply overreacting.

“I think that went well Ross, don’t you agree?” Stephanie said cheerfully as she unlocked her apartment door. “I enjoyed strutting my stuff even though I could barely see where I was going. Aren’t there supposed to be lights on the catwalk? It seems rather dangerous to be walking in the dark in high heels.”

“Stephanie, please, not now,” Ross complained rubbing his temples. “I want to forget all about the disasters I had to deal with today. The venue is never going to be ready for Wednesday afternoon’s showing. I’m doomed.”

“Here Ross, sit down on the couch and I’ll rub your head for you.”

He sat and leaned back, slowly relaxing as she soothed his aching skull with her soft fingers. By the time he left thirty minutes later he was feeling much better.

The sun was caught behind the skyscrapers and the street level canyon was muted when Ross arrived the next morning at his father’s building. Greeting the lobby receptionist he made his way to the tenth floor and the open arena. Exiting the elevator he was shocked to hear music and laughing voices.

“Good morning Ross,” Stephanie sang out as she twirled on the now partially lit runway. “What do you think?” she said spreading her arms wide encompassing all the frenetic activity.

Ross slowly pivoted observing the electricians in the ceiling, the workers dismantling the extra catwalk and models everywhere practicing.

“Here,” Stephanie hopped off the elevated platform, “have some fresh coffee and a roll. I arranged a caterer today so no one would have to leave.”

“How did you? I mean how did all this happen overnight?”

Stephanie smugly crossed her arms. “While you were ignoring me and tearing your hair out yesterday. I may not be great at modeling but I have tons of contacts plus a secret weapon.”

“Morning son, about time you showed up.”

“Morning Dad,” Ross said still staring in wonder at Stephanie. “Wow!”

“Not just a pretty bottom after all. Isn’t that right Stanley?”

“Nope, a pretty bottom and brains. Hope you’re paying attention son.”

“Speaking of which Ross,” Stephanie said, “I need you to come with me.” She led him into the model’s dressing room where scores of half dressed women were surrounded by hordes of stylists and assistants. “Morning everyone, this is Ross and if you have any concerns or questions, feel free to bug him. I know I do!”

There was laughter and more than a few speculative gazes and poses by the models. Ross ignored them all and followed Stephanie to a rack of familiar clothing. “I’ve only tried on a few so far Ross, I need your help for the rest.” She released the clasp at her neck and stepped out of her dress and hung it back up.

“Stephanie!” Ross blurted out. “You’re naked!”

She picked the next outfit and turned to him, “Of course I am.” She pointed. “So is she and there are several others. Underwear ruins the lines.” She dropped the dress over her head and said with a muffled voice, “Zip me up please.”

Ross complied still in a daze as the events spun out of his control. He saw that her bottom was still red in spots and he couldn’t help but notice Stephanie was not supermodel slim but built as a solid woman. He felt embarrassed at his thoughts especially since she seemed to know everyone in the room.

“One more thing Ross,” Stephanie said breaking into his introspections, “I need you to whip me into shape like you promised yesterday.” She handed him her short square strap. “Watch me on the runway and correct my steps promptly.” She called out to the ready models. “All right girls, this is the last part of the show when we’re showing off the plus collection so let’s do what we talked about.”

Stephanie strutted and pouted, working the audience of laborers and models to cheers and whistles occasionally stumbling as she spun around.

Ross took a deep breath. His Brat was an exhibitionist and a submissive. He tapped the leather on his palm as he catalogued all her many errors. He could do this. He wanted to do this. “Stephanie!” he yelled over the music, “You’re walking all wrong.”

“I know I am,” she yelled back hands on shapely hips. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Cut the music!” Ross said. “Come back here Stephanie,” in the sudden silence, “and walk slowly towards the front while I correct your posture.”

She set one foot in front of the other and –SMACK – the strap caught her buttocks throwing her off-balance.

“No. Place your feet on an imaginary centerline and swing your hips.”

She tried again. SMACK.

“More hip action.”

Once more. SMACK.

“Shorter steps and lower your center of gravity. Pretend your hands are forcing your hips side-to-side.”

Stephanie pranced carefully down the runaway to the accompaniment of steady smacking noises. She turned. SMACK. SMACK.

“Sling your body sideways and give a moue to the cameras.” SMACK. SMACK. “Smile Stephanie, this isn’t torture, this is haut-couture! Work it like you want it!” SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

When they left the stage there was a spontaneous round of applause and Ross signaled for the music to restart on their way back to the dressing area.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” one of the girls called out.

“Isn’t that humiliating?” another said wide-eyed.

“Can I try it next?” to loud giggles.

Stephanie only shook her head and smiled widely. The rest of the morning was spent being whipped into shape as she rotated through all twenty outfits. By the time lunch break was called, she’d mastered the catwalk and Ross’s heart.

“Congratulations Stephanie,” Stanley said giving her a big hug and a peck on the cheek. “I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you.” He gave Ross a pat on the shoulder and said, “Good job son. She rides really nice under your hand. Why don’t you rub her down and we’ll grab some grub.”

Ross gently bent her over the makeup table hidden from view behind the rack, lifted her dress and once more placed his oiled hands all over her bright pink bottom as his little filly lifted and preened under his thorough deep grooming.

“Shall I make my girl whinny for me?” he whispered as he slid two oiled fingers into her pussy for the first time.

She bucked and stamped but he kept her from rearing as he rode her across the finish line spurred on by her stinging tail and the promise of a cropping later for being a good girl.

To be continued next Wicked Wednesday in Episode #13

Authors note: Starting with Episode #5 and going forward, Stephanie has decided as the character being spanked that she will write each episode herself based on what she would like to have happen.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 3)

Mrs. Cleanknockers handed over a thin folder. “Ruby’s intake m’lord.” She paused. “If I may be so bold m’lord, I believe that she would suit Mr. Jones-Smyth admirably.” I felt Lord Caneshard’s intense scrutiny on my bowed skull. “You state she’s untutored.” My mind raced in panic: had I been deceived? Had I fallen into the evil and depraved clutches of White Slavers? “Untutored yes m’lord, but very responsive.” I felt Mrs. Cleanknockers gloved hand raise my frightened chin. “Obey His Lordship Ruby and you will prosper.” She pressed her moist lips firmly to mine and swept out the door.

This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.