A note on Roy. He is a well known spanking photographer, and more importantly a friend of mine. He is sharing his lovely photos with the world via my site, I am honoured and grateful to have him. I have made a section for you to view his work, it is growing nicely. Click here…

…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=26730

THE STORY BEGINS…

Naughtiness can be found in many places, each with a miriad of nooks, crannies, and corners to explore. Such as ‘Vintage Fairs.’ , which I frequent often. I deal with curios, antiques and collectibles, when not spanking. I have a secret area, where people who know, ask…”er, hmmm, got anything interesting?”

I got the idea of a secret area from when I used to have stalls, at markets, a man I got to know, showed me how it works. Let me let you into a traders secret.

Vintage Fairs have all sorts of stalls, which to the innocent browser, look quaint. But as the magazine shops of old, which had interesting ‘top shelves’, which often led to invitations to ‘back rooms’, for special items,. These certain stalls, book/magazine sellers, postcard/greeting card/photograph sellers, and so on, let me tell you, that stall holders have boxes under the store. From a man in the know, let me explain a trap…laid for you, the unsuspecting customer.

Let’s for example, say you sell postcards, photographs, posters, that type of thing. All the postcards are labelled, trains, sea side, humour, Valentine’s, glamour, racing cars, birds, old counties…..hold on, did I see glamour tucked in their?

The stall holder will be watching you. Ever seen the mirrors at the back of a stall? One way…they look at you, so not to put pressure on you. But, once you know, then you can look into them, one will be angled to show under the stall….where tantalising glimpses show….let’s say, bottoms.

The stall holder sees you looking in the baited section, and turns. By now, you will be engrossed. “I have a lot more of….”

See? Before you know it you are kneeling behind the counter and selecting your purchases, to take home in a plain brown paper bag. It is so much easier for men, we are naturally furtive!

Enter Rowena, today I am selling vintage magazines. All marked up, motor bikes, stamps, trains, special interest, action comics, D.C Comics, etc etc

In the ‘special interest box’ discreetly placed in a safe corner are a few various ones, in the middle are half a dozen Janus, and Kane magazines.

I look in the mirror, I see her look around, and then her face changes…

‘Ooooh.’ She whispers to herself. I turn, “hello luv, I have a lot of those over here if you would like to browse.”

I know what’s going to happen. She smiles and says “No, it’s okay thanks.”

Over the next half hour I see her look over four times, and catch her every time. Poor girl, she is feeling all nice ‘down there’ and is dying to come over, but daren’t. I put three magazines in a brown paper bag, with my business card, and service card.

The poor girl is so tempted. I smile when she looks again, she smiles back, which I take as a very gentle sign and make my way to her, she is looking in pretence at some pottery. I place the bag beside her, and whisper, “A present from me, if you want it, just take it.”

She looks at me. I smile my warmest smile, and leave.

Back at my stall, I look over, the girl has gone, so has the bag. I smile to myself, and know that one day, quite likely, we will meet.

Rowena goes home, and settles down, for a little read.

It’s as if she has found the Holy Grail, she loves every page, she is not as strange as she thought she was, other people like spanking stories and photos. Before long her hand is in her knickers, and the shy, timid girl is masturbating.

After a lovely orgasm, thinking of spanking, her mind goes to the cards in the brown paper bag.

One is a simple business card. ‘Asa Jones ~ Purveyor and Collector of Curios and Antiques’ with a contact number.

The second card is rather mysterious, it reads…

‘Mr.Jones. Correctional Therapist’, with a different telephone number.

She turns it over

‘Have you a guilty conscience?’ Have you a need? An itch that needs to be scratched?’ Would physical chastisement help?’

Her mind is in turmoil. She knows what it means. She thinks of that poor girl, all those years ago. She should never have done it to her, she has felt guilty for years.

She dials the number on the second card.

Ring….ring…ring….ring… She is almost ready to put it down but I answer. “Good afternoon, Mr.Jones Speaking. Can I help?”

“Probably.” Comes a quiet reply.

“Please, don’t be nervous. You have been very brave to ring, it is quite rare these days, most young ladies with a need, contact me via my web site. But the result is the same. May I invite you to my favourite cafe? It is on the ground floor of the Antiques Centre, on the other card. Shall we have a nice cosy quiet chat over tea and cake? Let me put your mind at ease. I promise you that I am a gentleman. Allow me to show you. Do you have any free time in the next week?”

I hear nervous breathing. I have the hook baited, I know it is dangling tantalisingly in her mind. People say I have a nice, soothing, calm voice.

“I have a day off, this Thursday.” She replies.

“Perfect, Thursday’s are my favourites. I always seem to meet the nicest people on a Thursday. Shall we say One o’clock?”

“Yes.” The phone clicks.

I smile to myself, and write the appointment in my diary.

Thursday came, the cafe as always looked cosy and inviting. Here it is, we sat at the table right at the end, on the right. As you can see, I shoot here some times.

Our table…. this is ‘my table’. I always sit here. If often sit with a coffee or six, and blog from here.

I spent many years working at a College, lecturing and demonstrating Thermodynamics. Every time, just before the class came in, I was nervous, even after twenty five years I was. It is the same now…I see a car pull up, just one girl in it…it has to be her. I go to the counter, at the front of the Antiques Emporium to greet her.

She comes in, obviously nervous, and a little flustered. The smell of age, polished brass, bees waxed wood, and cooking greets her. Along with a reassuring smile, and a friendly face. My early nerves have flown away like a butterfly, as always, I am calm, and feel as cool as a cucumber. I usher her to the cafe…”this way, after you.”

We enter the cafe, “ooops, I forgot to mention to the waitresses that I would not need my red spanking cushion today.”

Sophie, the waitress, smiles and offers Rowena a cushion. “Thank you.” I say…” But no cushion is needed today.”

“Okay Mr.Jones, you settle down, I’ll come for your order soon. And no, I won’t forget your dealers discount!”

I spanked her once for forgetting. She says this line every time….without fail.

I pull out a chair, and take her coat, which I hang on a mahogany vintage coat rack. She sits…feeling very looked after. Her nerves are already going.

She asks about the cushion.

I tell her that I often bring freshly spanked clients here for toasted tea cakes and a cup of tea.

“So they know why I am here…Oh God…she thought that I had been…”

I explain that everyone here knows what I do, I am somewhat, how can I put it?…I am a bit of a curiosity here. But they understand, and have all been over my knee. Soon, tea cakes, butter, and an old steaming tea pot in a crocheted tea cosy are sat on the table. None of the crockery match…it is how it is here. Everything is quaint, and old. Even the cracking log fire is in an antique fireplace.

Soon she is talking, and I am listening…more than that, I am hearing her spanking soul.

She tells me of her childhood, her school days, and what she does now. We talk of spanking and her love of spanking pictures. Then she is confident enough to tell me her needs. As often happens she wants a slow, understanding, patient build up to going over my knee. She is very keen to try implements, she hopes I like her bottom etc etc, and says she trusts me already….how nice!

We arrange a plan.

I offer her a spanking present, which will be a mystery gift. We discuss our next steps. She leaves, happy and excited.

Within three days my parcel arrives by courier, and she takes it to her summer house, which has a very private room.

She calls me, to thank you for my gifts of a punishment uniform and a selection of implements.

I tell her it is a pleasure, and said for her to wear it, and use them in her own good time…..”but please, before we say bye bye, let me hear the first smack on your bottom, with the brown tawse.”

I get my manhood in my hand, and stroke as I listen. I hear the rustle of paper, the removal of some clothing, and little words….and then…

She sends me a couple of photos of her, peering between her legs. I masturbate to orgasm as I listen to her doing the same.

Her journey has begun, as sperm runs down my knuckles I hear her cumming hard.

The phone call ends, both of us satisfied and feeling somewhat pleased with developments. After thinking things over, lying on her back, looking at the ceiling, she decides to try her punishment uniform on…

Click here…

…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=29197

To be continued…

Asa