A chat with Karen (about spanking)

What could be nicer than an English tea room, tea and crumpets (try them with toasted cheese and a poached egg…yum yum!) and good company, who shares a love of spanking. In this case, Karen.

To find out who Karen is, click here…


Those of you who have read my blog a while will know that I deal in antiques and collectibles, and the old building what houses my wares has a cafe. Known to my friends as, ‘The Blushing Buns Cafe.’ I organise spanking nights there now and then. So what better place for us to meet is there?

I am there first and get a table for two, in my favourite corner. The owner and the girls know all about me and are often intruiged by whom I bring. Very often it is one of my clients, who might have a freshly caned bottom. Sophia discreetly asks, “Mr. Jones. Will your guest today, need the cushion?”

I smile back warmly, and say, “…no, not today, but thanks.”

Let me make something clear here, there is nothing going on here, with me and Karen, she is not one of my clients. I write about spanking, Karen reads my blog, and was spanked and caned in her teens. It is an informal interview, so I can write her stories.

The first one is here…


It’s her first visit to my cafe, so I sit looking at the door. ‘Tiiiiiing!” In she comes. I wave and over she walks, I pull out a chair, and smile a warm welcome. It’s cold outside, but the cafe is low lit, cosy, and warm.

We soon feel settled and after the usual pleasantries of informal interviews, we get down to the matter in hand….spanking!

“Before I write the next story Karen, I would like to know, what did you think to being spanked?”

She chuckles.

“Well…. In the beginning, I didn’t take too well to getting my bare bottom smacked across my mum’s knee – but as time went on I got better at it …” she giggles a charming giggle and blushes slightly. Then continues. “Gradually, as those ‘strange feelings’ began in my lower abdomen, I began to ‘kind of’ not mind so much! I still hollered like a baby and hated being put to bed with a sore bottom …. but there was a kind of “magic” to it.”

She paused, took a bite of her crumpet, and a drink of tea. She looked at my eyes, it was obvious I understood, and she smiled back.

She continued. “Of course, as my teenage hormones took hold … I almost welcomed it 🤭🤭🤭and I have to embarrassingly admit, that I learned just what “buttons” of my mother’s to push to ensure a bedtime trip across her knee … when I “needed it”. She looked cheekily at me and added…”in addition of course to when she decided I deserved it!”

She thought, and replied. “Tell me if I talk to loud, I get rather excited when I talk of spanking!…. Those distant memories of standing in front of my mum who probably be sat on my bed, my knickers or pj’s down, my nether regions exposed as mum scolded me and then eventually saying …. (as if she was apologising for keeping me waiting !) … ‘ok miss, (she called me that a lot when I was naughty), let’s have you over my knee then shall we? …. over you go! ….it is a fond memory really.”

We drank and ate a little, then I asked. “How did you feel presenting your bottom before your Headmistress as a young woman?

We finished our food, and ordered coffee. It was lovely, endless cups of coffee, a winter’s early twilight outside, and vintage low lights inside. She took a big breath, and moved in her seat. I remember thinking that she must be aroused, and that is why. I was! And had to adjust my posture quite often too…lol

“You’ll not believe this Mr Jones, but…”

I interrupted politely, “Call me Asa, please.”

She blushed and replied, “…do you mind if I don’t. I like the authority of you being Mr Jones, and me confessing my naughty thoughts to you.”

Of course, I agreed. Mr Jones likes to be called Mr Jones!

She continued eagerly, I was fascinated. “They had a kind of script they used … lol…I mean the Headmistress and Secretary. (It only became apparent after a few visits when I realised it was a sham) After Charlie (using the girls nickname for her old headmistress) had given you your strokes, she would say something like … “ I hope that’s a lesson to you young lady … I do not expect to see you in my office again, HOWEVER, if I find it necessary for you to be in the same position again … you might not find yourself so lucky as you might well find you do not get to keep your knickers on next time”

I smiled broadly at the thought, but soon deflated my bubble, and manhood! When she added. “It was all done for effect as she never caned any girl bare.”

Of course, I might let it happen in the stories. If Karen agrees.

Leaning close, quite excited at the information she was to impart! She went on….”But, if you did get a 2nd visit (or like me quite a few !) …. after raising your skirt U.S.E. (The secretaries nickname) would ask … ‘And her knickers headmistress ?’ To which Charlie ALWAYS said …. ‘No, I think we’ll give her the benefit of the doubt this time Mrs Evans’. But it was just a sham … because I know from experience they used the same script EVERY time!” Giggled Karen.

My curiosity and something else grew. “Errrr, was she always there? Mrs Evans?”

My excitement at the idea of her being there must have been obvious. She replied quickly. “She didn’t touch or anything inappropriate … but she was there as witness (and to help Charlie I guess if necessary) so after Charlie told you to bend over her desk, she’d say ‘Thank you Mrs Evans’. And with that U.S.E. would lift your skirt and expose your knickers!”

Bloody hell, I nearly came in my trousers when she told me that! The thought of a shapely young teenager, bending over an old oak desk, in a wood pannelled room, Headmistress with a cane, and her secretary lifting the girls skirt….wow! If she had told me then that she rid pull them down, I would have to have made my excuses, to go to the toilet….to masturbate! I was so damn hard and turned on. Talking to a rather nice stranger like this is…well it’s….oh it just IS!

I had a burning question. I had tried to ask, but did not want to stop the flow. “Why did you girls call Mrs Evans U.S.E?

She laughed out loud, and clasped her hands in joy. “Up Skirt Evans …. U.S.E. …..because she was the one who raised your skirt for the headmistress to cane you across your knickers !”

We shared the laugh, and ordered two more lattes.

She then said. “I’ll send you my accounts of my canings in writing. I don’t think you’d cope very well if I told you!”I

I agreed, reluctantly, being the gentleman. So I veered my course. “You spoke about hearing other women from the W.I. Talking about yours and other girls spankings. I find that fascinating, tell me more Karen please.

A few sips of coffee later she carried on.

“That’s one of the things that has been whirling around in my mind (due to all my thinking about my schoolgirl & teenage times Recently for you) ….IT was how matter-of-fact and nonchalantly my mother & her friends/neighbours and my aunt would openly discuss their naughty offspring’s (ie mine) misdemeanours & consequent punishment. I have to say though, Mr.Jones, that as I got a little older into my teens, it was this nonchalance, off-handedness and matter-of-fact manner of not only talking about it, but also dealing with the embarrassment of exposure that had probably the most effect on me & my journey into my obsession with being spanked…. 🤭I can recall being the topic of conversations at the kitchen table (and being present or within earshot) where not only my “crime” was discussed, but also the details of my punishment (or pending punishment) were openly debated between my mother & another mother (WI friend) a Female neighbour or maybe my aunt if she were there. Every now & then I’d hear the conversation punctuated with words or phrases that I knew were sealing my fate … “naughty girl” …. “across my knee” …. “knickers down” …. etc etc etc …… it’s really strange how your ears used to get tuned to such phrases !

Then we realised we were the only two left!

More to come