Moira ~ Story Number 3, from TradCP

This is the story he alludes to in his bio, on his page.

Click here to visit the page of TradCP…


A few people have asked me over the years how I found myself becoming a disciplinarian and being involved in the spanking world. 

Like many people the spanking need is probably deep inside and you just need a trigger, a situation or a specific experience . There was however for me a couple of catalysts that seem to have opened a subconscious door, a door that had spanking practitioner emblazoned  on it, not unlike a Headmasters sign over the study door.  

As I have previously mentioned one was my sister moving to an all girls school at aged 15, a school that  didn’t shy away from using corporal punishment as and when they deemed fit.

I will elaborate more on this in future stories but needless to say the fact that she and her friends would tell me about the slipperings and canings on an almost daily basis had me spellbound and greatly intrigued. 

Sadly not long after my sister left school and started in the sixth form my father passed away suddenly. It was a great shock but we all rallied and got through a most difficult time. One person who was a marvelous help was a family friend of my mother’s… a lady called Moira who lived almost opposite us and was in our house as much as she was hers. Moira was in her mid thirties, quite short, with a slim figure and one peach of a bottom, she often wore tight slacks as was fashionable at the time with the fabric moulding itself to her plump little bottom. Many a time I watched her wiggle her way across the road between our houses. Watching her delightful derrière swaying from side to side. The downside of Moira was she was basically a slouch, she’d sit and smoke, drink tea and chatter all day if she could and she did this mostly at our house. 

I often fantasised in my mind about putting her over my knee and warming her bottom with the flat of my hand for sitting around and not doing anything productive.

Then one day Moira really made my ears prick up when discussing something about her school, (a school between Luton and Dunstable in Bedfordshire), I can’t remember exactly how the conversation started but I do remember her telling  my mother that she had been caned once at school and her parents were there and that the same evening her father gave her a good hiding for getting the cane!  I was gobsmacked but far too shy to ask any details. I just watched her bottom more intently from that point on imagining the cane swishing across her seat! 

Moira helped my mother redecorate the house not long after that conversation and unintentionally found a spanking notebook I had been keeping. It contained a few stories, a few pictures and some notes I had made, nothing too shocking but still, to have it found by someone was very embarrassing. I only found out about the discovery when she handed me the notebook and said that it was maybe a good idea if I had kept it somewhere a little safer. Obviously I was embarrassed and probably went a shade of deep red but I took it and thanked her.  

A few weeks later things started to happen. (in a spanking sense)

She would say the odd thing or would look and smile, I was convinced she had read it all and probably told someone.  I really wanted to approach the subject with her but didn’t know how to. Eventually she broke the ice. We were sitting in the kitchen and my mother had left for work and Moira asked my if I had put my notebook somewhere safe.  I told her I had and she asked why I liked spanking women’s bottoms.  To this day I can’t remember my response but we went on to talk about spanking in great detail. I told her that my sister had been caned at school. She said she was aware and felt partly responsible, I was puzzled. It turned out that on occasion Moira had brought cigarettes for my sister. These had been the reason she had found herself  at times bending over in the headmasters study for a “sixer “ I couldn’t believe it !  Feeling a bit more relaxed and braver I told Moira that she also needed a spanking for supply them. She laughed but agreed I was  right. 

It’s at times like these that the conversation could have died. That laugh could have signaled the time for a change of subject but I pushed on.  “Ok then it’s not too late” I said.

Moira looked at me and laughed nervously “ you really want to spank me?” 

“Yes I replied” 

 “Okay then.” she stood up walked towards me. I was seated on kitchen stool. She looked at me, smiled and then lay herself over one of my knees. I still look back on that moment and still remember vividly the look she gave me as she bent forward. Her brown shoulder length hair falling over  her face. 

Looking down all I could see what her plump little bottom filling a pair of green cargo pants that were so thin as to be almost threadbare. The seam riding up and separating her buttocks in to two distinct mounds. I lifted her slightly higher, her feet were off the ground now stretching the green fabric even tighter. I couldn’t believe this was happening, a woman fifteen years older than me laying over my knee waiting for me to spank her bottom. I think at this point my disciplinary side took over. I looked at my palm and then Moiras plump cheeks. I looked for the fullest spot, the swell of the cheeks and brought my palm down to meet the soft mound …

WHACK!! My palm met her right cheek which flattened under the impact!! “ow!!!!! “Moira screamed. The left was next… Splat. The same response “Ow” her buttocks jiggled within its thin material casing. SMACK!! The next landed. Her head shot back and her heels kicked. Left cheek  …., SMACK!….. right cheek …. SMACK! ….,.left cheek….. SMACK! …., right cheek and so on. Moira continued with the Oww‘ s and ouches. The legs continued to writhe and I continued to spank…

I was now beginning to enjoy the feel of her bottom beneath my palm and her reactions. I stopped for a moment. Moira hung her head low, her hair disheveled and falling around her face , she was breathing heavily. I rested my hand on her bottom, the heat evident to the touch. My hand travelled in small circles across her twin mounds, the material smooth to my touch. I looked down at her and said “ You should have never have given her anything that would have got her into trouble.”

Moira’s was still breathing heavily and I detected a very quiet “yes”. I decided to redouble my efforts.  I like to spank quickly at times, not letting one cheek rest before revisiting the  same spot again, this way the bottom continually dances and Moira’s plump cheeks did the spanking dance that day. My hand landed on the crest of both mounds over and over again…. SMACK!!!!……. SMACK!……….SPLAT!…….SMACK! 

Moira responded OOOOOWWWW!!!!! I decided to finish with a volley of spanks landing on the twin peaks of her mound. My palm sank in deeply, flattening both buttocks and no doubt leaving an imprint of my hand. 

By now Moira’s protestations had changed low sobs and moans.. the last six landed on her sit spot .  I stopped. She lay there, draped over one knee, not quite sobbing but almost. She slid off my knee and stood on the floor leaning into my thigh, her hands gently rubbing her red hot cheeks. … she looked up at me.

Her eyes were moist and her hair still disheveled and hiding most of her face, she blew the hair from her  face and exclaimed “ Christ.., you know what you are doing , that bloody hurt ….. my poor arse!”   

I wanted to laugh. I could see by the look on her face that a spanking was at least partially sexual for Moira… for me it can be both and as a young man that spanking certainly registered in that way. She gingerly sat on her chair and we drank tea.  It was the first time but not the last. I spanked her for many years. I banned her from smoking in our house. Every time she did it meant a spanking, or a slippering, or a caning. I think over the years we tried every implement there was , Sometimes we used her house or mine if it was empty.  It did become a sexual liaison too, but that’s another story.  

Eventually Moira moved to Scotland but we remained friends for many years, friends with a secret, I feel I owe her a great deal for nurturing my spanking interest.

Asa’s note…

What a lovely story, I am sure I speak for all of us when I say that I hope she reads this, and realises just how important she is to what made you the spanker you are.

6 thoughts on “Moira ~ Story Number 3, from TradCP

  1. Wonderful account. Well written and very image inducing. I hope we hear more of the exploits of Moira

  2. Thanks for sharing this. I’m sure many of Asa’s blog subscribers will read it with interest.
    Who amongst us wishes they had been in a similar situation, and had the courage to act? I know I do!
    I look forward to reading more of your sister’s school punishment experiences, if you feel it appropriate to share them. Or perhaps she would be willing to write about them herself?

  3. Thank you for the comments. Moira became a very trusted confidant and we shared quite a few little adventures. I will of course add more if people wish to hear them.

  4. Love the way the cargo pants accentuate the gorgeous rump…and yes would live to hear more. Thanks for sharing your artwork and words

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