From the Top Floor to the Cellar |

Under construction….be patient with me, I flit about like a butterfly working on all my things bit by bit…

A very well to do, educated young woman answered one of my adverts. This happened real, but to respect the privacy of the lovely lady, Charlotte is acting it out for you.

“Dear Mr Jones.

I have a desperate need to be stripped naked and caned hard on the bare bottom in a derelict building, or at least a building in a state of disrepair. I have heard that you might be able to help.

Yours faithfully,

Charlotte.”

I replied that I had just the place, and suggested meeting for coffee to discuss it.

The reply was surprising…

“Dear Mr Jones.

Thank you for your kind offer. But I do not want to meet you until the day. I have been told that you are a gentleman and can be trusted. I do not even want to see you on the day, until my caning begins.

Just send a day, a time, and instructions.

Please.

I need a thrashing in mysterious surroundings and unusual circumstances. It really is as simple as that.

Charlotte.”

So I did as she asked. I sent her the address, a date, a time, and a note. I kept the note simple…

‘Once at my studio, go around the back to a small black door. When I see you approach I will leave it open and will meet you at the top floor. You will find the stairs after a while. Strip naked, wear a hat, and climb. On reaching the top floor, turn left and walk. Do not deviate left or right. You will know when you are at the place. Your adventure will not end there, after your thrashing, go to the cellar and follow the dark passage to the end. Do not reply unless you agree to follow these instructions.

Until then, goodbye.

Mr Jones.’

She replied, and agreed.

A month later found her at the back entrance to my studio. With a hat in her hand. I saw her arrive and dashed away to the stairs. I heard the outside door close, and a few footsteps.

I walked quietly and swiftly to the upper floor where I had set up some small apparatus. I waited patiently, more than a little excited by the thought of thrashing a strangers bottom before we had even spoken.

She found the stairs, and out of curiosity pressed the button for the lift. Not for a moment expecting it to arrive.

She turned to face the staira and began to climb them nervously, and excitedly. The thought of a fantasy being fulfilled thrilled her.

Right up to the top. (This photo being small is supposed to make it look like she has gone a long way!)

She turned to her left and entered what was obviously the room in question. “Perfect!” Thought Charlotte.

She had brought a pair of shoes with wedge heels, which she knew thrust her bottom out pertly. She changed into them.

I spoke.

She jumped in shock!

“Do not turn Charlotte. Know that I am watching your every move, and know that I like what I see very much, you please me. Walk to the apparatus and prepare yourself.”

“Yes Sir.”

With the walk of a super model she swayed her way invitingly to the small set of apparatus I had clinically set out in the space. I knew it would look small at first glance, but threatenng and austere on approach.

She was nervous, naturally, and also excited. I could see the nervous twitches and involuntary shivering. She was exactly where she had dreamed of being.

I told her in a few simple words, not shouting, just slow and clear…” Bend over the stool in your best position for a thrashing, I want to examine you, appreciate you, and drink you in to my soul.”

“Yes Sir.”

My manhood was hard already, but the sight of her, in that hat, bent over, gagging for a thrashing with the cane, excited me beyond belief. But of course I did not want her to know that. I gripped my throbbing cock for a few seconds, and squeezed the gland….”ohhh.”

She may have heard. I gathered a level of composure and walked slowly towards her. I had carefully arranged a small array of equipment. Her mind would logically think that I was going to walk to her and pick up a cane. Little did she know I had a senior dragon cane in my hand, gently flexing on its own will as I walked to survey my prey.

She stirred at the sound of my steps.

“Do not rise at all, do not move…at all. Stay looking forwards.

“Yes Sir.”

My first decision was to decide of back stroke, fore stroke, or both.

I am more accurate with a back hand but decided to start with four quick cuts to her plump cheeks completely by surprise, from the other side to this. The apparatus was in the way slightly. I strode back, gently bringing the swaying rattan up over my back.

I then thrashed her with little mercy, four good hard whacks. She squealed in surprise and pain.