Miss Black


The black open topped Audi swept into the driveway of the large Victorian house, the attractive driver’s hair blowing in the wind. It was the hair that people first noticed -long, well groomed, and a light blonde with subtle streaks of pastel pink and lilac. It caught the eye, but the face -well, that’s what hooked you, the beautiful face. The woman had a powerful presence.

The wheels crunched on the gravel as the driver gently slowed to a halt before the magnificent gates. Made to measure for free by a grateful customer, those gates could have graced any mansion in Beverley Hills. The metals posts were curved like the canes she used on any male or female bottom willing to submit to her. The house was No. 6, and the local blacksmith had deftly secured a black metal number, inside a twisted metal circle, to the stone gatepost to the right of the driveway. Around the circle’s edge, in Latin were the words “of the best”. To those unaware of the signs meaning, it looked like a family motto, yet those familiar with corporal punishment caught the meaning of the sign right away: Six – Of The Best. She pressed her remote control and what at first looked like two separate gates moved slowly in unison to the left. With a shake of her hair, she removed the black rimmed sunglasses and drove through the opening, the gate slid silently back behind her.

A quiet, modest young man approached the car as it encircled the raised flowerbed before the double mahogany doors. He opened the driver’s door and held it open. He could not resist the temptation to stare at the driver’s perfectly proportioned body as she exited the red leather seat.

Her voice could be whatever she wanted it to be. On a first meeting it was usually correct, softly spoken English. When she was alone with her friends and staff, she reverted back slightly to her Derbyshire roots. It was the latter she used now as she addressed the young man holding her car door. “Your appearance is lovely Quin. Well done, impeccable. However my car had streaks on it this morning, and that is not acceptable. Report to room twelve at six o’clock this evening. Put your little black shorts on, nothing else. I am going to punish you for failing in your duties. I saw you look up my skirt too. You’ll get six for that. Oh, and when I answer the door, I expect you to be on all fours.” Quintin shuddered and felt his excitement mount. “Thank you Mistress.” It was, she knew, exactly what her young submissive male wanted to hear.

Her hips swayed seductively as she walked to through the mahogany doors and into the circular hallway. She stretched, and looked with satisfaction upon all that she achieved. Time for a swim, she thought, walking slowly down the glass corridor that led to her luxurious swimming pool. The gardeners watched through the windows as she shed her clothes with each step. By the time she reached the pool room she was naked, her bottom swaying ever more with each feline step she took. The delicate tattoo of a bow just above her bottom was caught in a shaft of sunlight as she bent over to dive effortlessly into the cool water. The bow was her trademark. Even her notepaper, specially made to match her hair colour, had the emblem embossed at the top centre, in rose pink.

One of her four maids tending the plants by the pool cast longing glances at the lady of the house as her lithe body traversed the length of the pool. Like all the people who worked for the woman, she was in love. “Please Mistress, may I have permission to masturbate as I watch you swim?” Such was the charm, and control, exuded by the woman in the pool. She was almost irresistible, especially to her specifically chosen submissive staff. She swam to the side silently, and with little effort. She looked into the maid’s eyes, and in a low seductive tone, replied, “Yes, you may.”

The maid lifted her crisp white apron and slid the midnight blue Edwardian dress of her uniform up to her waist. With very little dignity the maid sat at the edge of the pool, with her legs open, and let her knickers fall into the water, which amused her mistress. The lady gathered them in her teeth and pulled up to her to watch at close quarters. This excited the maid, who began to rub faster and faster.

“You are a very naughty girl.” “Oh Mistress, I’ll be naughty for you any time you want. You know that,” she said as she approached a quick intense orgasm. “Yes, I do,” was the warm reply from ruby red lips. She swam to the other side of the pool and climbed up the steps. She walked seductively, knowing the gaze of the love-struck maid was fixed to the sway of a perfect bottom.

Even the most ardent fan of the spanking scene would fail, should he or she attempt to do that bottom justice with words alone. This was a bottom that begged to be spanked, that needed to be spanked. It was a spanker’s dream. The way it responded to the slightest or harshest touch was perfect, and its owner could switch from the submissive role to the dominant role with consummate ease, and used her skills in both areas to enhance the two characters she loved to play. That bottom was her trademark asset. That bottom had earned everything she had. It belonged to the woman now strolling naked past the adoring gazes of her staff. The woman’s name? Charlotte. She had not always been this rich, or this famous. Let me tell you how it all began. This is the story of Charlotte, one of the most popular spankees in the U.K., and also a sought-after top whose legions follow her Twitter each day.


Charlotte is an intelligent woman, blessed with a warm heart and a huge amount of common sense. In her childhood this intelligence was rewarded with a scholarship. She didn’t come from a rich background -far from it -just an ordinary house on a typical estate. Born to a respectable hard working family, she knew the values of hard work and effort from an early age. Like many families, hers had problems brought about by lack of money and the stresses of daily living. But she was a bright girl, and when school offered her a chance at a better life she grasped that opportunity with both hands. Doctor? Lawyer? These were the careers her proud parents and teachers envisioned for her. So at sixteen, off she went to an expensive well-run finishing academy for young ladies. It was similar to a college or university, but with an emphasis on etiquette and refined social interaction.

She attended the school until nineteen, at which times she began to have other ideas for her future –ideas that departed from those of her teachers and parents. She knew she was smart –brilliant even. But she had a feeling that her greatest asset was her extraordinary beauty and perfect body. As she matured, she only became more exquisite. And no feature on her person matched the perfection of her bottom, which fascinated everyone –herself included. It became something of an obsession, in fact, and influenced her budding sexuality. She studied its development; even her own masturbation technique involved bobbing up and down as she lay on her hand watching her bottom move in the mirror. Then one day, she smacked it. It was like a light switch being thrown on, in her soul, and it became a regular experiment. The wobble of her cheeks, the sting, the change of colour, especially the finger marks, enthralled and excited her. She found the word spanking a lovely word. Even looking the word up in a dictionary excited her.

The Internet was younger then, but search engines soon made her realise she was not alone. Millions of others shared her interest. What a relief! She was a normal girl, with an interest in spanking. She was not yet interested in giving a spanking –dominating others would come years later -but in receiving. Her early development was that of a submissive female, and she now had a goal in life -she wanted to experience a spanking. The usual sexual fantasies were there, but this other fantasy came through almost every day, and soon began to fill every hour. She looked at bottoms, especially those of other females and tried to decide who might be a spanker, and who might be a spankee. It was a delightful pastime as she blossomed into a young woman.

Much more to come, keep an eye on my Twitter feed for updates.