Just what I needed today, my last visit to my studio saw me get some criticism of the state it is in and how slow I am….lol….I am 72!!
But it was a fair comment, and I have cancelled shooting and events and am concentrating on it. Two new walls, two new doors gives us our own entrance now with a new room thrown in. Radiators being fitted and more.
I have been busy today with my valuable assistant, Charlotte. We worked on her specialist area, bondage. She is a strong young lass and helped me a great deal, although watching her bottom in those stretch yoga pants tested my reserve!
I had four hours to spare, which is very rare for me, so spent it down at the studio. Towards the end, temptation took hold. Its the only thing I cannot resist…temptation….so just one thing in life is not bad is it?
So I said, ‘Shall we spank and do a little shoot?”
She said…..”Oh thank God! I thought you were never going to ask!!”
So I carried on with the girls in gym sets, and chose bottle green knickers for her today. I gave her a lovely spanking, and a lovely little caning in this position….sigh……dreamy sigh…..::BIG DREAMY SIGH::
After last time it was perfect, and all of a sudden my studio is my warm welcoming friend again….like Charlotte is .
So back to normal.
Strange how sharing my thoughts with you is so good for me, thanks for listening!
To read the rest, a little journey! Click on ‘Photo Stories’ , and scroll down to number 87, click on it, you will find over 20 more stories…..scroll down to number four.
…oooOOOooo…
continued….
The Governess of Spanking Dreams, took Princess Spanky, dressed in her school uniform, to another room.
Charlotte was quite amazed by the spanking maze she seemed to have found herself in. Like falling down a magic rabbit hole to end up in spanking heaven.
“Stand here.” Said The Governess, as she positioned her pet.
Charlotte looked down to see where she was to stand and spied it, for the very first time. She had read about them, and the wicked sting that they deliver to a bare bottom. But there, before her eyes, was a real dragon tailed tawse.
Samantha smiled….”Seen it then?” she asked raising an eyebrow. “Only the best for my girl, I have found it in Mr.Jones Erotic Collectibles, well, sort of, he gave it me.” She chuckled.
Charlotte looked wide eyed, and then watched her Mistress tie her to the suspension bar with pretty pink ribbon and silk rope.
Charlotte trembled as she felt her Mistress prepare her, she felt her soft breath, the heat from her body, and the soft touch of her delicate fingers.
The Governess of Spanking Dreams was fastidious in the art of presenting a bare bottom…
As she did the finishing touches, and bent down for the dragon tail tawse, she whispered to her pet.”You are now ready, I am ready and eager to try this new tawse, it will be hard, and quite fast, brace yourself.”
“Yes Mistress, I am ready for you.”
She began…
The dragon breathed fire into the cheeks of the screaming damsel, through it’s tongue, as it lashed repeatedly across her plump flesh. Each lash leaving its dragon tail mark.
Princess Spanky pushed up hard to greet every one of the dragon’s kisses, and the hard nipples of her Mistress’s breasts pushed hard against her thin white cotton.
“Dance my Precious, do the Dance of the Dragon for me.” Roared her Mistress, as the fire in her pet’s bouncing bottom exploded.
She leapt from foot to foot, squealing and screaming the song of the dragon as she danced…
“Right, stand still for the final few, legs wide, and push that bottom up high girl!”
“Yes Mistress, yes, yes, yes!”
Pain and pleasure connected the two girls as thick, cold leather joined them together in the harmony of the Dragon Dance!
As the last whacks, thwacked, against the rippling buttocks of her pet, the room fell silent again, heavy breathing and the aroma of female sweat filled the air…
Once again my friend and Headmaster of Broadly Bottom College, had been writing to me, if you click on the link above, you will understand more of why we do so.
Do you remember the two girls who did a line dancing display, in the last letter he wrote, well it inspired him to take some girls to a visitor attraction, which includes a mock up Wild West town. In the curriculum they have covered everything from Native Americans to the Battle of Little Big Horn and all else in between. It has been quite a comprehensive coverage of the Wild West, so this was a reward.
He took a coach and with him were 38 young ladies from his College, all were in fancy dress for the day. Most of it went very well indeed, but of course, there were a few who got carried away, and had to be dealt with in the old fashioned way.
The Headmaster himself looked excellent in his cowboy outfit, the staff at the Theme park said that his chase of a girl he caught smoking was worthy of any cowboy chasing a steer with a lasso…
You might find it hard to believe, but his girls are as bad as any in my ‘Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls’, he even caught one girl as drunk as a skunk in the Saloon called the ‘Wild Wild Women Saloon’. The girl, Sharon was wild, because her dragged her out and spanked her over a barrel for all to see, then left her on show bent over for quite a while afterwards!
But the naughtiest girl of all was one who went as a Wrangler, she had a pair of ‘chaps’ over some jeans, but when they all set off for the visit from the coach, he never noticed what she had done to her jeans!
After a series of complaints he went to find her.
It appears he pulled her up onto a stage coach, and spanked her as it was pulled all the way down the main street, slowly, much to everyone’s amusement. It was said that it brought forth more cheering than the afternoon rodeo!
Despite her promises, and my warnings, Samantha found herself in my study once again…
As always she was beautifully turned out, it has to be said that she takes pride in her appearance.
I asked her to explain her actions and why she has ended up back here after her first spanking and corner time. She struggled with anything other than that she had been naughty, been caught, put on report, and then she became quite glum.
As at her last visit, when I announced that she was to be spanked, she fought back tears.
“Now come on, don’t be silly, you will get spanked whether you make a fuss or not, it is up to you. Put your bag and hockey stick down over there please.
I put her into the place I intended to spank her, and told her to bend over. I made her clasp her hands and grip them between her knees.”Do not remove your hands at any time…understand?”
“Yes Mr.Jones Sir.” Was her sorry reply.
I raised her green gymslip.
Then I lowered her navy blue knickers, to reveal a fine bottom for spanking.
It came as quite a shock to her when I picked up my size fifteen plimsol and delivered four resounding whacks to each cheek. She squealed loudly begging me to stop and saying how sorry she was. To her credit, her hands did not move.
I stood as if watching a sunset, as the red shiny glow on her grand orbs grew and grew. She whimpered and cried, and sniffled, but remained in position as a chastised and punished girl should. I saw the stingy redness reach its peak, it must have been stinging immensely but she did not try to rub, much to her credit. Many get an extra few for doing so.
Once again I put her in corner time, there was just one visitor during her ten minutes, and that was the school caretaker asking for an order for some consumables to be signed. I could see her cringe, and him smile as he looked. It is all part of the punishment.
There was another knock on the door, after my secretary had buzzed the arrival of the next naughty girl to bare. So after saying “Enter!!!”, they passed each other, and the day’s conveyor belt of fresh pale bare bottoms to turn spanked blushing red, continued.
To see lots more of the spanking stories from one of my very talented club members who is a regular contributor, click on ‘Links and Contributors’ in the above menu bar, then click on ‘Contributors’ and scroll down to her entertaining page…
…oooOOOooo…
Victoriana – Part 1
The dream had taken me back in time, Daddy had pulled me over his knees, raised my pleated school skirt, pulled my knickers deep into my valleys and vigorously spanked my bare bum.
I had a long cooling shower before getting dressed for my day at the bank.
After
a short bike ride to the nearby market town the tellers of the local
Barclay Bank greeted me with courteous, “Good morning Miss Alicia!” I
returned their greetings with a warm smile. They again seemed to compete
as to whom would wear the shortest miniskirt. At 22, only a few of
years older, I would have loved to join the competition, but I am their
supervisor.
I
dropped my bag on my desk and climbed the stairs to poke my head into
the office of the manager’s secretary. As usual she was having coffee
with the deputy manager. I was offered a cup. A few minutes later we
were joined by our manager. He poured himself a cup and point blank
questioned me, “How’s your French Alicia?”
“Average… Sir.”
“You are due a promotion and London is offering the position of deputy manager of the Calais branch.”
“You
would have a leave to beef up your French. Your language coach or
whatever program will be paid by the bank. You have a week to think
about it.”
On
the way back home I was milling over that proposition and almost missed
the opening of a newly renovated shop. A rare occurrence with the local
supermarket having killed most of the small shops of our residential
suburb.
The name and the purpose was interesting, Victoriana Vintage Fashion and Haberdashery. I attached my bike to a nearby lamppost and examined the window. There was of course plenty of haberdashery supplies and a strange mix of dress patterns from the 70s and a number of Enid Blyton’s books.
I also spotted inside the shop a mannequin dressed with a lovely tartan pinafore.
I pushed the door, a small bell chimed, I was welcomed by a middle aged lady behind a very modern sewing machine. After a polite exchange I asked if I could have a look around. “By all means! Please don’t mind me, I already have plenty of work.”
The
shop was set up so that visitors could browse without being under the
eyes of its owner. I could discreetly satisfy my curiosity. The tag on
the pinafore read, ‘Made to measure, £107’
That wasn’t cheap! There was a wooden bookcase with more books by Enid
Blyton and an assortment of school like cotton knickers and woolly knee
high socks. Several clothes racks offered a selection of dresses and
skirts similar to those pictured by the patterns in the window. Most
tags read, “Made to measure, please ask for a quote.”
Those
dresses and skirts weren’t as short as those of my bank tellers, it was
only the fashion of the 70s, the start of the miniskirt revolution. I
suddenly remembered my first mini, Mom had smacked my thighs, “Now you
have a choice, wear that brazen skirt showing that you were spanked or
wear a proper one!”
I
did wear it a few years later when they retired by the sea after having
sold their business. I did also wear it at the bank as it isn’t too
short contrary to Mom’s ideas.
I
spotted a cute set of a short tartan pleated skirt with a white long
sleeve blouse and a black sleeveless sweater. The tag said that it came
with white cotton knickers and knee high socks for £70. Somehow it
reminded me of my old school uniform. Although I didn’t know if I will
ever dare wear it, I tried it on. The stretch waist was an easy fit, and
the lady asked how short I want the skirt, “Not to short please.”
I
collected it Thursday late afternoon on the way back home. I tried the
skirt on. I loved that it was quite short without being too short. It
felt flirty. I imagined testing it on a few dishy guys at the local
coffee shop. I again remembered Mom having smacked my thighs.
Then I was surprised to find a small leaflet in the pocket within the waist band.
“Would you like to learn French ?
Old fashioned method
Guarantied results !”
There
was no address, no telephone number, nothing. With the Calais offer in
the back of my mind, and the intriguing promise of guarantied results I
was very curious! I returned to the shop to show that leaflet to the
seamstress. She gave me a card,
Ecole Ecarlate
Enseignement tradionnel du français
Birchwood Manor
Upper Switchingham
There
was an address and no telephone number. I didn’t know that manor, but I
knew the picturesque village. With a beguiling smile the old lady said,
“You already have the uniform.” I raised both eyebrows, and she added
with a somewhat admonishing tone, “Be sure to wear it when visiting.”
Alicia
To be continued…
B keeps her own fabulous blog, and runs a comprehensive, realistic spanking game on line…
This is actually for Asa Jones Spanking Club Members, but it is nice for the casual visitor to see what is going off, and what will be happening in the future.
There will be no comments to this post allowed I’m afraid, CLUB MEMBERS have their own way of responding.
Note to club members, without being too blunt, I am fed up of continual e-mails saying ‘what’s the password?’, ‘how do I get into the forum’, how do I e-mail other members, where are the photos for the ballet dancer and swimsuits shoots, mentioned in club postst?’ etc etc….so no e-mails about this post please, I won’t answer them, so from now on, unless its an e-mail between us discussing a story, a photo, an event or project between us etc, use the Club Main Page….it is why I spent many hours of my life creating it!!!
So go to the club page for information on all this below, and find out about…
Events.
The Re-Opening of the Studio and invites.
A bit of disappointment.
How to get to spank Charlotte and Kate within our club.
The all women school at our club.
New events team suggestion.
Spanking Parties.
and last but not least….The most beautiful model who loves spanking, and will take a long caning without limits, even in public, working for us.
So no e-mails about this, just go through the club channels which I have been telling you about regularly…. sarcasm, synicism? ME??? No, not from me….lol
This was the late entry from Alex… (my fault I should have made a closing date…but…then I would never have seen it!)
So, to make amends, just for this entry. Go and fetch the cane Alex, and indulge yourself.
…oooOOOooo…
Charlotte walked in to the kitchen and stopped, something was wrong;
her mother was sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, her
father was stood gripping the back of one of the chairs, his hands
filled with so much tension that it looked as if he was about to tear
the red leather back from the aluminium frame. Then her beautiful blue
eyes alighted on the brown envelope laying at the centre of the table
and at the centre of their collective woe.
“They’re for an art project..” she stammered, “at college…Samantha
took them… it was her idea!” Charlotte’s voice rising with each
utterance, the last a shriek of futility.
“DON’T LIE!” roared her father, a voice he had once used to great
effect as a Sgt Major in the army, cowering aspiring soldiers and
forcing them to great feats of endurance.
He strode from the far side of the table to her at the door, grabbing
her upper arm in a vice like grip, “With me now” he stated in a flat
tone, his anger plateaued.
He led her past the sitting room to his study, reaching behind the
door he pulled out his military drill cane from its leather sheath; the
polished brass cap flashed in the late afternoon sunlight coming in the
hall window.
“Outside now” he menaced in her ear as he dragged her to the back
door. Once outside he continued to stride up the concrete path to the
garage towing his daughter behind him. He opened one of the large double
doors enough to push the petrified young girl in, he followed close
behind.
“Put your hands on the bench and bend over” he said.
“No Daddy, please no!” Charlotte wheedled.
“Do it now you disobedient little girl or it will only take longer”
Charlotte looked at her father, pleading with him to change his mind
and offer clemency for her foolish actions. The cane rose above her head
and quick as a flash the brass cap hurtled down like a miniature comet
striking the back of her left leg, she yelped first in surprise and then
in pain as the fire of the first stroke spread through her nerves.
“Lean forward you terrible child!” he pushed her upper body down with his left hand causing her round posterior to rise, his right hand whipped down and the cane tasted it’s first bottom in many years.
Asa’s note…
…well done Alex, brilliant writing, the image it created in my head was fabulous, I could hear and see it all. I do hope you try again.
In future, I will give competitions a time scale. I was just looking back to find comments that need moderating, and found a lovely entry to the Charlotte and the Photographer competition, and of course I have just displayed the winners.
I should have thought of it before, but…sigh…I didn’t.
