Monthly Archives: March 2022


Oh well, a week today since I tested positive, so thought it was time I tickled my tonsils and my nostrils….still two red lines, so still got it.


I am feeling a bit better. Thanks again for the messages and e-mails, they made me feel cared about. It’s a lot worse than I expected, but absolutely nothing in respect, and comparison to the Ukraininan Crisis.

Walks into study….”hello durr me old friend!”…(I tend to try and talk in an Irish Accent when feeling a bit frivolous) …I say this to my old black, well worn, swivel chair. I sit down and do a spin….first time for ages!

Bloody hell Asa, you can pack that up! Not well enough for that yet! I wait a few seconds whilst the inside of my head and eyes line up with my sockets.


Did you see Ed Sheeran, and Camila Cabello? (I should check the spelling) Did you see all the dancing girls get their spankings! Only in England would a row of beautiful girls dance along wiggling their bottoms happily as they are getting a spanking! Fabulous! Perked me up that did!

All these lovely leggy dancers got in a line with their partners and skipped sideways, bent over, as the men spanked them, on National T.V. It was a small part of a concert to raise money for Ukraine…watch it, it’s easy to find!

It is being repeated on a lot of T.V. here in England this morning, come across it twice already. The concert raised another £12 million last night, so that’s getting on to £300 million I think altogether….fabulous! I am sure there are concerts like it all over the world…all for you Ukraine! You deserve every penny.

The war there is horrible, let’s not get glib, but concerts and stuff make you feel better, all those little films brought tears of worry, concern, and heart felt happiness at the goodness of people. So once again…..We think of you lots and lots Ukraine, not only are Governments and Charities working for you all over the world, but we are, ordinary British people, pensioners like me, plumbers, taxi drivers etc etc….we are doing our best for you XXHUGXX XXHUGXX XXHUGXX…and very importantly, as well as Media coverage, social media is doing wonders for you too. If only it was around in the 1930’s, the Hollocaust would never have happened. Hitler like Putin would have been seen for what he is, by a huge swathe of the world. We can all see the obvious! Nobody can hide nowadays….as the Oscars and our Royal Family have found out for example! We are all on view, you cannot just walk out and tell people the opposite of what’s blatantly obvious to the world anymore…like diving in footie….it’s cheating! We all see it and laugh at the player. THE WHOLE WORLD CAN SEE THE TRUTH, DON’T WORRY ABOUT THAT UKRAINE!

Anyway…the spankings on stage…why?

I read a few days ago that music choices and such on the front line were making stories, so when I felt a bit better I followed it up, Ed Sheeran and some heroic Ukrainian troops have been in contact. Somehow as people watched stuff, some ‘hot’ Ukrainian female soldiers, in uniform have been dancing and spanking on tic-toc, here they are…

If you go on tic toc you will see the Ukrainian Soldier Girls spanking! Try the ‘Daily Star’ site.

So, I summise that this is why it was put in the routine in the concert, to send the warmest curvy bottom wishes back to you on the front line and everywhere else in Ukraine. (My interpretation! Not Official! But pretty obvious.)

Spanking is a sexy distraction all over the world, I think it lovely that in some way, a curvy bottom and a few smacks brighten your troubled days.

Forgive me my dear Ukrainians if this seems too light hearted in such a serious situation, but it is meant to help, my way of sending you the very best of wishes…me and my girls talk of you, we are concerned for you, and send you OUR LOVE, BEST WISHES, CARE, AND HUGS.


Lucy O

A few years ago Lucy came into my life. I wrote a little scene of a public spanking. She wrote ‘I wish that was me’, I wrote back, saying, that it could be, at my studio or somewhere, because at the time I arranged public spanking events in my little theatre, or in school room etc.

In she came, Into my life, full of beans, a tour-de- force of spanking. I arranged it, and for two years I caned as hard and as long as I liked, a hundred strokes in one session she offered, I got up to the thirties on her bottom and that was enough for me…I spanked her with rulers, various tawses, blackboard rulers, martinets, floggers, slippers, plimsols, all sorts, wresting to hold her in place…always …she was wanting more…..harder, longer….more! She orgasmed, screaming in pain and ecstasy as I spanked and spanked and spanked.

Whatever I did….more more more MORE!

Too much! All consuming, relentless. She spanked me out!

Then she left, the calmness was wonderful, yet at times I recall our sessions and miss them, but in truth, I am soooo glad she has gone, she wore me out.

Moral of the tale….be careful what you wish for.

Last Thursday I tested positive for Omicron, at first it was just like a cold, not bad. I scheduled my Saturday posts for six in the morning and thought, I will just do a few little posts….pah! Omicron…bring it on! I am the Grandad who can beat Omicron! I pretended to be a boxer….my wife already had it, I said it will not get me!

Big fucking mistake that was! I think that Miss Lucy Omicron heard me and thought…”Really!?”

She has kicked my arse fine style!

Then….fucking hell…like Lucy, she took over my mind. My dreams! Bloody hell…Lester Deadlock explaining the Maelstom of the mind….What the fuck?

I went to the toilet…got back in bed…it carried on…ate a meal…nodded off…back he came! My dead mother accusing me of saying she had no style….really telling me off! She was the most stylish woman I have ever known…wore evening gloves, pearls, fox fur, and when I used to go for pop and crisps, and watch them dance it was…”huh…she’s my mum you know!”….look! Here are my mum and my dad, my grandma was glamour puss too, and my Aunty Constance and Jo were classy and sexy! I would never say she was not stylish….yet she went mad at me in my dreams!

My Mum and Dad left, my Gran on the right.

Then my dreams got weirder! Some dude trying to explain how a tornado works…..and I was to be tested! And MUST PASS THE TEST!!..Then, I was back in my old jobs…everything going wrong..I was in a panic.

My symptoms just like a heavy cold….but in my head…LUCY OMICRON WAS SO ACTIVE.

My head now feels like an echo chamber. I am worn out. A bucket full of snot lighter.

Last night, the strangest thing, my nose sort of popped. A nose bleed, just in a few seconds…it shot out like someone had spit out of my nose!

I have slept like a log, had toast and marmalade.

I need to sleep…it is all I am doing…sleeping

But I am okay.

Moral of the tale…don’t be a twat like me, pretend to box and say ‘come on Omicron, bring it on.”

My wife is right, sometimes I behave like a twat!

She’s tested negative now, but like me, is very weak.

So a bit of advice, treat Omicron with respect!


Omicron ~ mild my arse!!!


By my own admission, I am not the bravest when poorly….lol…I rather like some fuss and tender loving care, with a nice dose of sympathy thrown in.

I feel rough, much worse than I expected.


You don’t have to tell me! What with all the shit in the world right now…etc etc etc….I know. But all the same I feel poorly and miserable.



Robyn’s Erotic Words – 16

To see the rest of Robyn’s wonderful work, click on ‘Links and Contributors’ above, then click on ‘Contributors’, and scroll down to his section.

Suspended & Whipped

By Robyn Jones

Here is a short story based on some wonderful photographs taken by a prolific French spanking photographer, called Red Charls. I’m not at all sure if I would want to be spanked or whipped in such a position, particularly as all your blood would go to your head…let alone the dangers of falling on said head! However, it is a position Red Charls often employs with his apparently willing models, so who am I to comment?! Anyway, here is a short story I wrote using some of his photographs for inspiration.

Asa wrote to him about a year ago, asking if he could use his photographs, (not easy, because Asa speaks no French, and used an on line translator!) but whatever he wrote, worked, because he said YES!


The young lady in question was called Céline. If you saw her out and about in Paris, you would have seen a very elegant, sophisticated looking woman in her mid-30s, dressed impeccably. Céline appeared to be a very confident young lady and managed a very successful fashion clothing business. Her employees respected her, but she could be ruthless and did not tolerate slackers or fools gladly. Despite her good looks, Céline was single. She had never felt the need for another person in her life, although she had numerous short affairs with both men and women.

All seemed to be well with her life. However, beneath her confident, self-assured persona, lurked a young lady who sometimes struggled to contain the tensions created by the stresses and responsibilities involved in running her business affairs.

It wasn’t until she was 30 years of age that she finally found a way of relieving her tensions, a way in which few people could have guessed. Once a fortnight she visited an older man who provided a special form of therapy for successful business women like Céline. These visits enabled her, at least for a short time, to abdicate all responsibilities and submit herself to the control of another. She had found that his therapy rapidly breached the dam which bottled-up her tensions, so that by the end of each session she felt totally relaxed and calm, ready to face the World head on again.
Céline’s therapist went under the name of ‘Monsieur Charls’, a man in his early 50s. He was very professional in how he conducted himself with clients and Celine had rapidly felt safe in his company, knowing that he would never take unsolicited advantage of her.

Charls’ form of therapy was quite simple. He dispensed a spanking service carefully tailored to the needs of his female clients. Some sought him out to relieve feelings of guilt about horrid things they may have done to others. Some used his services to help relieve the tensions created by modern life, whilst others got a sexual kick from having their bottoms well-spanked by a man old enough to be their father. In Céline case, spanking primarily gave her a release from the tensions created by her work, although she rapidly discovered that she gained a lot of sexual satisfaction from the process.
Céline always looked forward to her fortnightly visits and was often surprised by Charls’ ingenuity in dispensing what she needed. No one session was quite the same as another, so that she was always left guessing what he might do with her on her next visit.

Let’s join Céline on one of her Friday evening visits to Charls after she had finished work. She left her office at 6.00 and caught the Metro to visit Charls in his large private apartment in the Quartier Latin, an area in the 5th and the 6th arrondissements of Paris, situated on the left bank of the Seine near the centre of the city.

As she arrived outside Charls apartment and rang the bell, the door was soon answered by a tall distinguished looking man.

“Bon soir, Mademoiselle Céline. Do come in. Let me take your coat,” he said, smiling at her.

“Bon soir, Charls. Merci,” replied Céline, divesting herself of her long coat to reveal a stylish, figure-hugging black pencil skirt and short-sleeved black T-shirt. To complete her ‘black ensemble’, she wore black high-heeled leather boots and black stockings.

“Would you like an aperitif before we start your session, Mademoiselle – a Martini perhap?” Charls enquired.

“Non merci, Charls, although perhaps one would be nice after the session?”

“Of course. Whatever you wish, mon cherie. In which case, let’s get started. Please follow me to the foot of the stairs and then remove your skirt,” Charls said, ushering her further down the hallway towards the stairs that wound up into the rest of his apartment.

Céline complied, a feeling of curious anticipation and excitement rising within her breast. She quickly removed her dress and stood there in her black t-shirt, black silk French knickers, black stockings and leather boots, awaiting further instructions.

“Eh bien. Now please remove your knickers as well, Mademoiselle. We don’t wish to spoil them, do we.”

Without any obvious hint of embarrassment, Céline slowly removed her silken undergarment and placed it on a stand next to the stairs. Charls stood whilst she prepared, enjoying the sight of this now semi-naked young lady and smelling the expensive subtle perfume she was wearing.

“This evening, I thought I would introduce you to a new method of restraint for your session. I propose to suspend you by your ankles from the upstairs bannister. How does that sound?”

Céline looked slightly taken aback, “Well….ummm…it sounds rather alarming!”

“There’s no need to be concerned, my dear. You’ll be perfectly safe. The rope that I will use to suspend you is very strong. Look here, let me show you,” Charls said, pulling a thick rope into view to which was attached a circular steel ring from which two stout leather straps hung on short chains.

Céline carefully examined the apparatus. “It certainly looks strong enough, but how will you be able to hoist me up?”

“Oh, that’s simple. The rope is attached to a pulley up there, so once I’ve placed these straps around your ankles, I can easily pull you up into a suitable position.”

“Oh! Well, if you are sure it’s safe, then I’m happy to try it, if that is what you wish,” replied Céline, now eager to start her session. Charls was always full of surprises, which she usually found rather very arousing!

“Bon! In that case, sit down on the staircase whilst I attach the straps to your ankles.”

Charls carefully attached the straps and then started to haul Céline up until she was dangling helplessly from the end of the rope, her hands only just managing to reach one of the stairs. In the process of being hauled up, her t-shirt slowly slid down over her back and head to reveal her pert breasts and her full, well-rounded buttocks.

It felt very strange to be so inverted, dangling helplessly in the air, with her bottom and breasts totally naked. With her head covered by her black T-shirt, she was unable to see anything, but her other senses were fully functioning. She could hear Monsieur Charls coming slowly up the stairs towards her. Which of his many implements would he use on her?

As Charls stepped up close to Céline, he used his right hand to caress her lovely soft cheeks. He could hear her emit a sigh of contentment. His fingers traced the outline of her buttocks as they curved in between her thighs. He ran a finger gently down the deep crevice that divided them. His touch sent a shiver of pleasure through her body, although she knew that in a moment his attentions would become far from gentle. Now she was suspended upside down there was very little she could do to stop him doing whatever he chose to do. There was no escape. Yet she knew from previous experience that, after the initial shock, she would welcome his harsh therapy. This is what she needed to release the tensions of the last few weeks. She could also feel the moisture from her growing sexual arousal which also needed release.

Sensing that Céline was ready, he placed his left arm across the front of her naked body to steady himself, his hand brushing against her breasts. She felt her nipples grow erect. Then, with his right hand, he started to slap her cheeks alternately. At first his smacks were fairly gentle, accustoming her flesh to the feel of his hand. In response her twin globes started to develop a delicate pink hue. As the pinkness developed, his hand started to crack down harder and harder, so that her flesh started to ripple in response. Each smack was accompanied by little yelps and cries of pleasure.


Her buttocks began to take on a hotter, redder colour as the initial spanking built steadily to a crescendo.


Céline’s buttocks wobbled and quivered under the onslaught, the warmth generated by his punishing hand gradually spreading towards her loins, her pussy becoming wetter by the minute, moisture trickling slowly down across her stomach.



Finally, he stood back to admire her fleshy rotundities, satisfied that her bottom had been well-prepared for the next stage of her therapy.

He picked up a short leather strap attached to a wooden handle and started to wallop her bottom with a series of downward strokes aimed at the undercurves of her cheeks.


The strap produced a searing sting that had Céline’s whole body wriggling and writhing in an attempt to escape the steady barrage of pain. However, there was little that she could do dangling upside from the rope to avoid the strap.


Céline started to cry out more loudly as the strap relentlessly visited each bouncing cheek in turn….’’YieeeeeHHHH! Arghhh! YeowwHH! Mon dieu!”


After a while Charls ceased strapping her now well-heated buttocks. Her cheeks involuntarily twitched as if trying to shake off the burning sensations that ran through her flesh. Her breathing was laboured, but she still craved for more.

“Please, Monsieur, please don’t stop. Whip me as hard as you can. Please whip my bottom and even whip my back if you so desire. I beg you,” Celine cried out, almost in desperation to reach a higher place.

“Of course, Mademoiselle. If that is what you wish for, then that is what I shall do!” replied Charls. So saying, he picked up a long-tailed martinet flogger and started to vigorously lash her buttocks and upper back, leaving a series of criss-cross red welts across her already reddened skin.

Céline shrieked out, howling with pain, tears running down her cheeks, but not once did she beg Charls to stop. She had never felt so alive in her life. She embraced the pain and willed Charls to continue….to continue until she finally achieved the sexual release she needed so badly.

Occasionally the falls of the martinet bit cruelly between her legs. Her hands shot back momentarily to protect herself, but he kept whipping her, directing his strokes to fall across her back, until her hands fell back down again.

Charls sensed that she was nearing her orgasm and exchanged the martinet for a single-tailed whip, deliberately targeting her lower buttocks near her ‘sweet-spot’ where her buttocks met her thighs.


It only took six sizzling strokes to finally bring Céline’s arousal to a head and she let out a long, loud howl of ecstasy as she experienced a mind-shattering orgasm. Céline wept from the sheer joy of her release. She no longer held any tension within herself. She felt free.

Charls left Céline to dangle from the rope for a few minutes to savour her ‘therapy’. The skin on her buttocks was inflamed, bright red and hot, burning and tingling beautifully. She absorbed the sensations, relishing the feel.

After a while, Charls slowly lowered Céline to the ground and undid her ankle straps. He then gathered her up in his arms and carried her into his drawing room to recover, placing a large glass of Martini by her side. Her eyes glistened with joy. She was now fully recharged to face the World outside until her next session with

Charls poured himself a drink and raised his glass to Céline, “Santé, Mademoiselle.”

Céline smiled back at Charls, “Merci beaucoup, Monsieur. That was ‘incroyable’! You are a true ‘artiste’ with the whip. I shall sleep very contentedly tonight.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Mademoiselle. It is I who should thank you for providing me with such a lovely and, dare I say, ravishing ‘canvas’ on which to practice my work!”

“In that case we are both very satisfied. Let’s raise a glass to our next session!” replied Céline.

Marie and Jean met Lucy and George – Part One of Ten

To see more of ‘B’, click on ‘Links and Contributors’ in the menu above. Then click on ‘Contributors’, and scroll down to her page.

She also runs a rather magnificent spanking game which I recommend whole heartedly. Click below…

This next story in her section is a joint venture between her and me. Although being honest, most of it her work, I have just added here and there.

Marie and Jean met Lucy and George part 1/10

Bonjour, my name is Marie, I am twenty-four and married to Jean who is twenty-eight. We are both French and we are to relocate near Cambridge, Grande Bretagne or United kingdom en anglais. Jean is a research engineer part of an exchange program.

We were welcomed at the airport by Jean’s research colleague, George, and his wife Lucy. They are both Scottish and I am thankful for their very good knowledge of French because my English needs to be improved.

I was quite surprised by Lucy’s exuberance and her jeans miniskirt. It was much shorter than mine and unlike me, she didn’t regularly tug it down to avoid showing too much bare thighs. She even seemed not to mind what she was showing. Actually, it seemed to me that her husband liked the idea of his wife showing her shapely thighs.

They helped with our luggage and lead us to their car, a superb green Jaguar with leather seats which felt cool with my mini. They drove us to a new development on the outskirts of Cambridge, and we discovered the house, which was part of our relocation package. It was superb and next door to their own. It was also already furnished, and Lucy showed me a thick folder with useful info.

It was almost time for lunch and they invited us. We opened our first suitcases and refreshed ourselves before walking down to their house. We were pleased to discover a quiet and affluent neighborhood. I spotted a few young ladies my age wearing miniskirts. They weren’t as short as the one of Lucy, but shorter than mine. It looks as if British girls are more daring than us French, and some seemed to wiggle their bottoms. I could see Jean being mesmerized by their shapely thighs.

George welcomed us and he was soon joined by Lucy. We complimented them for their lovely house as we discovered their cozy lounge. Jean offered a bottle of Champagne, and I apologized for it not being cold enough for the apéritif. Lucy told me not to worry about it. She understood the gesture was kind and well meant, but explained, “…you have simply not had time to cool it, you have only just got here, we understand.”

George looked at her proudly. Obviously, her being polite and correct was important to him.

Lucy brought a tray of canapes and I almost saw her petite culotte as she had bent to set it down on the coffee table. She had made no attempt for proper modesty. Jean’s eyes had sparkled, and I gave him a discreet frown.

We moved into the dining room and started with traditional Scottish haggis. It was much better than what we had tasted on our previous visits to Scotland. Next was a roast, and George frowned. He must have noticed as we did that the potatoes and vegetables were under cooked. Soon Lucy also discovered that and blushed as she offered to add our plates in the microwave for a minute. George helped with taking them and followed her into the kitchen with saloon like swing doors.

What followed had our eyebrows dancing. We heard it all and almost saw it all because of those flimsy swing doors. He scolded her, and that was soon followed by loud smacks. We didn’t need the help of Sherlock Holmes to understand that George was giving Lucy a good fessée.

We had heard about English, or in their case, Scottish domestic discipline, but we had never imagined to just about witnessing it. I was quite surprised that they hadn’t thought if we would be shocked by such a spanking. It felt like it was as obvious as the sun shining in the morning, and us being on the other side of those swing doors had to be accidental. For a second, my imagination played tricks, and I imagined myself being spanked by Jean for having messed up lunch for important guests.

I pictured Lucy being bent over the kitchen counter, her feet a foot or so apart. Miniskirt up and tiny knickers stretched between her legs.
The smacks were loud. She was for sure spanked on her bare bottom because her skirt should have muffled the smacks.

They returned with the plates. George apologized for his wife’s poor behavior in serving under cooked potatoes and vegetables. “Now darling, apologies to our guests, properly.”

It was quite strange to see that Lucy was red face, but smiling when she said. “I am very sorry for such a shortcoming and embarrassed that you had to be almost witnessing my punishment.”

She wriggled in her seat for the remainder of the meal, and we remained as phlegmatic as Britons in training. I thought that such wriggling must have been caused by something more stingy than George’s hand.

On the walk back to our house, I was intrigued by a couple of schoolgirls wearing minis as short as the one of Lucy.

After that eventful day, Jean carried me into our new bedroom. We talked of the spanking, but I didn’t tell him of my imagination having ran wild and then we enthusiastically tested the bed…

B and Asa
To be continued…

Photo Set ~ 355 – A beautifully presented bottom.

You know Rosie Bottom, she has appeared in a few of my stories. She runs the cafe.

She likes a light fast caning…..I am talking of a short lift, but about a stroke a second, working up and down her cheeks. Look at the way she presents herself for it, not an easy pose to hold, but she is great at it and loves it, she says she could not poke her bottom out any more if she tried. She always wears quite high heels which helps.

They way she moves as I work up a cheek at a time is fabulous, one knee bends, the other cheek pushes out….whack whack whack whack whack whack….then as it gets too much, she bends the other knee, and we repeat, and on it goes unti she finishes with a few very light taps on her pussy.

All the way through Rosie is going…’Ohhh. Yes, yes, that’s it, OWWW ooooh yes yes, keep it going keep it going, yes yes…ooooh, mmmm, yes!’

It is a delight to do…..

Wonderful Rosie, and like your name, your rosey bottom looks lovely!


Poor old Mr.Jones has Covid!

Oh bollocks!

If I go quiet, you’ll know why. But stiff upper lip and all that.


This sounds morbid, but best to have a plan. If I do not come back (I used to work with asbestos and wheeze a bit, and have had the odd blood clot) …thank you to every one of you. If anyone fancies having all my stuff, and keeping this going, go to my web site, (not my blog) and click on links. Contact ‘Peakeasy’.

Bye! (Just for now! I hope….lol)