This is a bit of a mix, because in the corner of my upstairs room in my studio, is a sort of dungeon area. I am experimenting with lights, space for shooting etc and one day hope to use this in one of my stories I am working on.
Kate was the willing volunteer, we did it after the shoot with the grey socks, white vest, and navy blue knickers.
Pretend you are my assistant, and your job is to do final adjustments of Kate’s bottom and things.
This is a spanking bench with a cage underneath for an ‘unfortunate’ to wait in.
I think I need to put the mirror elsewhere, or at a better angle.
As you can see, the mirror did work, but needed twisting a bit, see here…
Lots of ideas, I need someone good at rope-work….Mr Gibson maybe?
This is just a beginning, it is being constructed….but now I know that I have enough range and need a bit more light….thanks for helping!!
Testing the water, they have already had a spanking each, so they do not want it too hot on their bottoms….or knowing these three, they probably do! Looking at them like this, I cannot help but be thankful that fate positioned them all in my town, in a triangle almost, with me, not living far from the middle of it, and my studio just to the right of it. All of us loving our glorious subject of spanking! I look back to this day, me, with my camera, and these three as naked as the day they were born, what a glorious place to find myself!
Perfect!
In they get.
In these situations they chatter away, like three little birds in a nest. I am almost invisible, moving slowly.
Look here, Charlotte and Samantha chatting away…I adore them, and they fascinate me with their ways…so innocent one minute, and very naughty the next!
I cannot help but look at their nipples, I wonder what the adjective is? I suppose these few photos are very nipply!
And now it is bottom washing time, you must keep them nice and shiny for Mr.Jones to spank!
Double the fun with a well placed mirror isn’t it?
Imagine a flood and these three come bobbing by! I am sure there are gentlemen out there happy to strip off and dive in to save them!!
And now Charlotte needs a wash down…
On the shoot goes. Twisting these lovely hips, gently moving bottoms, clasping smooth breasts to get the nipple in the mirror right, it is worth the effort and hard work though.
I had nice warm fluffy towels for them…
“Would you like a cup of tea and some Victoria Sponge girls?”
Hello, come and sit with me five minutes, let me tell you a bit about yesterday….
Oh me and Charlotte had a super time yesterday, full of fun and laughter. Many cups of tea, lots of chatting, a good bit of work on the studio, and a small shoot. She has just been away and has a lovely tan, she looked very vibrant.
She showed me a video of her drunk, (it was a girlie break),…she was she was trying to get her dress off, Amber and Liz, (you have met them) took the video and they were laughing so much. She was trying to sing ‘Bat out of Hell’, at the same time, it is what she sings on karaoke….( well, she tries to anyway ). Lets just say she got in a tangle with the straps…still singing, and very much naked underneath. Very sexy and very funny.
We kept chuckling of it, she is rather proud of it I think!
Then we went down to the Chapel, to shoot one of my ‘Girls Sent from P.E. Sets’. Now remember… We were in a jolly mood after watching the video. I needed her to hang her knickers on a hook and had carefully positioned the props for dramatic effect.
Those of you who have met her at my events know how giddy she can be, she can giggle for England!
Well, she tried to get these knickers on the hook, kept missing and wobbling off almost, and started laughing. “Bloody Hell Mr.Jones! You don’t make it easy for us do you!?”…imagine this said in a strained croaking voice, as she stretched. Because we had been giggling anyway, anything would have set us off, but this was something else… I just had to take a photo of the situation. We could hardly stand up, and straight after this we were in each others arms quite out of control with laughter.
Priceless memories….I have so many!
We regained composure, but please, try to remember what happened behind the scenes when you see the finished Set.
I have noticed the comments left on this post, they are very informative, please take time to read them.
continued…
A ‘buoyancy’ of bottoms (collective noun, OED)
Four fat young bottoms fresh from the pool, wet costumes clinging to thighs and in other places, damp skin glistening in the cold light of the changing room. A slender cane for these plump, pushed-out bums, and a portly, stern-faced gentleman to organise the proper presentation of those same.
Can’t we just imagine the breathless flurry of spray in which each of these girls swam her two lengths, lunging desperately for the wall to give the next member of the relay team the best possible start in the inevitable race against the teacher’s stopwatch at the end of every training session?
Can’t we hear the sharp Smack of palm against wet buttocks as the toe-touching girl next on the starting block was sent off on her two lengths with a resounding spank to urge her to her very best efforts?
Can’t we picture the exhausted girls as they flopped out of the pool at the end of their relay leg, panting for breath, half in and half out of the water, hips athwart the pool’s tiled edge and bums balanced in ideal positions to catch a spank or two from their impatient coach?
Can’t we see the huddle of bum-cheeks and the plucking-down-a-little of sopping costumes around half-bare bottoms as the team hurried off to the changing rooms and their twice-weekly pep talk, and can’t we imagine the hopefulness in their young faces as they told each other that this time, surely, they must have beaten their trainer’s target time!
All this, and more, is here in this compact illustration of the girls’ twice weekly disappointment as their coach announces their failure to match up to his expectations yet again. These chubby young bottoms are going to feel that nasty cane; of that we can be sure!
Their coach announces their failure to match up to his expectations yet again. These chubby young bottoms are going to feel that nasty cane; of that we can be sure!
And what of the gentleman with the cane?
His is a job for which he must have volunteered, surely. Let’s picture him beside the pool with his stopwatch as the girls plough up and down with their polystyrene floats thrust out in front of them and their legs kicking determinedly behind.
It’s a constant source of amazement to him. How is it that they’re so buoyant? How is it that they can float along like that with so much of their bums pushing up out of the water? It’s fascinating — he could watch it for ages, the way their bottoms sort of swivel and bounce and wobble like that. It’s — well, it’s distinctly lewd, that’s what it is! He thinks he’ll have them do another length or two —.
That’s the beauty of one-piece swimming costumes, of course. If you’re taking detention then naturally it’s perfectly alright to tell a girl to take her knickers down. No-one minds that. But eyebrows would certainly be raised if you told a girl to take her blouse off, and then her bra! But with one-piece swimming costumes — well, you can’t very well have her take her costume down without her little tits popping out, can you? And not always so little, of course, with sixth-formers like these. Pedants could always say that a caning even with their costumes on would leave you plenty of bare bum to aim at. But that wouldn’t be the same somehow. One acquires little habits; little ways of doing things. It wouldn’t be the same at all if you didn’t tell them to take something down.
He declares that his team have failed to attain the target time by eleven seconds. The girls risk a whispered protest, though without any real hope that the implied sentence will be mitigated. Eleven seconds; eleven strokes. Each. Three of the girls will get theirs now; Annabel will get hers later, after her ‘special lesson’. There are ‘special lessons’ for one of the girls after each training session, and tonight it is Annabel’s turn to pretend that she doesn’t know what the point of ‘special lessons’ really is. She won’t ask why she isn’t allowed to keep her costume on while she balances on her tummy across a tall stool and practises her breast-stroke in thin air. She’ll draw her knees up just as high as she’s told to and hide her blushes as teacher’s hand slips under her belly from between her legs and coaxes her hips up, up into the required ‘bottom-high’ position. She will no longer pretend to herself that by being a ‘good girl’ she will be let off the eleven strokes that she has to come, but she’ll be a ‘good girl’ anyway because that’s what’s expected of her. Annabel will be a little late for supper.
Mandy hasn’t pulled her costume right down and she gets a waspish stroke as a reminder full across her pert damp bottom. She whimpers and presses her belly and breasts against the chill tiles and yanks her costume down to her thighs. Her eleven strokes come at measured intervals, each one making her jerk against the wall, she squirms agitatedly until she can force herself to thrust her tender bottom out for the next one. She dangles from the coat-hooks when he has finished with her, mewing plaintively.
Gillian too squeezes herself up against the wall, but keeps her bum pushed out for the cane to tease and pat-pat-pat between whacks. Her bottom glows with neat reddening cane-marks while she weeps quietly and her tears roll down to her bare breasts and a teardrop plops onto the seat on which she is kneeling from the tip of an erect little nipple.
Annabel, whose turn will be delayed, presses her thighs together and goes all trembly at the sight of her friend’s bottom jerking under the cane. She has no way out, she knows that her bottom too will be shimmying just like Gillian’s within the next half-hour, and suddenly she is crying along with the other girls, dread of what’s to come pushing her beyond the brink of tears.
Barbara’s bottom, that bottom which of all bottoms has perhaps felt the cane more often than any other in the school simply because it is so delightfully plump and responsive to the painful stimulus of a well-applied cane, jumps more than anyone’s even before it gets a proper stroke, and it must be admitted that in truth it is the very liveliness of poor Barbara and her most caneable bum which has made her so popular amongst the more discerning members of the staff. She has a way of maximising the excitement of bottom-caning a girl by her remarkably suggestive reaction to even the mildest of strokes, snatching her hips first forward then back, and then oscillating her behind while she presses her thighs together and whispers childish pleas to her punisher to take pity on what she endearingly calls her ‘Bum-bum’. Had she any insight at all into the arousing effects which her performance has on those staff members who almost queue up to get her knickers down, she would doubtless modify her antics; as it is, she gets her full eleven strokes with plenty of time in between to undulate and wriggle and generally invite the next stroke to be harder out of pure curiosity to see what the girl might do next! Her breasts jiggle daintily as she sobs out her silly pleas and her swimming costume slides wetly down her trembling thighs to her knees.
At last she is let off the hook, and she rubs glumly at her bottom as she and the other two who have had their canings are allowed to get dressed. An enquiring look from the teacher prompts Annabel to slip her costume down off her shoulders, tits popping demurely into view just as the caretaker, an opportunist as ever, pokes his head round the door to ask how long the changing room will be needed, as he has to fix the showers. Annabel blushes scarlet, and then goes even redder in the face as she is made to denude herself entirely, the caretaker’s presence notwithstanding. Why she should find it more embarrassing to be naked in the presence of two men as opposed to one man is not immediately apparent to the teacher, who decides to ignore both the problem and Annabel’s blushes as he shoos the other girls out into the corridor and nods conspiratorially to the caretaker, who sidles in and seems to have no intention now of addressing himself to the supposed malfunctioning of the aforementioned showers.
Annabel is not to know that, the caretaker being a handy man to have around when expensive bits of central heating equipment, amongst other things, are to be filched and fiddled from their rightful owners, he is to be allowed to enjoy the spectacle which she is going to provide, as compensation for his illegal activities on the behalf of others. The teacher is not to know that this is not the first time, nor even the second, that Annabel and her knickers have been parted in the presence of the caretaker. Annabel perches herself across the stool and begins her humiliating exercises, avoiding the eyes of the school’s most accomplished blackmailer and rifler of silk-lined purses, while the teacher decides that Annabel’s positioning atop the stool isn’t quite right, and ‘adjusts’ her hips with that indelicacy of touch familiar to all the girls of the 400-metre relay team. One Tuesday evening is, after all, much like many others in the swimming pool changing room.
Asa’s Note…..I run a club, and in it we have a suggestions page, on it is a section for future shoots, and one idea is girls in swim suits, I am busy making a sort of changing room set….which will do for this situation, and what you will see in the next post in this series. It will double up as a multiple flogging station too!
It will need supports underneath for that of course.
Just what I needed today, my last visit to my studio saw me get some criticism of the state it is in and how slow I am….lol….I am 72!!
But it was a fair comment, and I have cancelled shooting and events and am concentrating on it. Two new walls, two new doors gives us our own entrance now with a new room thrown in. Radiators being fitted and more.
I have been busy today with my valuable assistant, Charlotte. We worked on her specialist area, bondage. She is a strong young lass and helped me a great deal, although watching her bottom in those stretch yoga pants tested my reserve!
I had four hours to spare, which is very rare for me, so spent it down at the studio. Towards the end, temptation took hold. Its the only thing I cannot resist…temptation….so just one thing in life is not bad is it?
So I said, ‘Shall we spank and do a little shoot?”
She said…..”Oh thank God! I thought you were never going to ask!!”
So I carried on with the girls in gym sets, and chose bottle green knickers for her today. I gave her a lovely spanking, and a lovely little caning in this position….sigh……dreamy sigh…..::BIG DREAMY SIGH::
After last time it was perfect, and all of a sudden my studio is my warm welcoming friend again….like Charlotte is .
So back to normal.
Strange how sharing my thoughts with you is so good for me, thanks for listening!
To read the rest, a little journey! Click on ‘Photo Stories’ , and scroll down to number 87, click on it, you will find over 20 more stories…..scroll down to number four.
…oooOOOooo…
continued….
The Governess of Spanking Dreams, took Princess Spanky, dressed in her school uniform, to another room.
Charlotte was quite amazed by the spanking maze she seemed to have found herself in. Like falling down a magic rabbit hole to end up in spanking heaven.
“Stand here.” Said The Governess, as she positioned her pet.
Charlotte looked down to see where she was to stand and spied it, for the very first time. She had read about them, and the wicked sting that they deliver to a bare bottom. But there, before her eyes, was a real dragon tailed tawse.
Samantha smiled….”Seen it then?” she asked raising an eyebrow. “Only the best for my girl, I have found it in Mr.Jones Erotic Collectibles, well, sort of, he gave it me.” She chuckled.
Charlotte looked wide eyed, and then watched her Mistress tie her to the suspension bar with pretty pink ribbon and silk rope.
Charlotte trembled as she felt her Mistress prepare her, she felt her soft breath, the heat from her body, and the soft touch of her delicate fingers.
The Governess of Spanking Dreams was fastidious in the art of presenting a bare bottom…
As she did the finishing touches, and bent down for the dragon tail tawse, she whispered to her pet.”You are now ready, I am ready and eager to try this new tawse, it will be hard, and quite fast, brace yourself.”
“Yes Mistress, I am ready for you.”
She began…
The dragon breathed fire into the cheeks of the screaming damsel, through it’s tongue, as it lashed repeatedly across her plump flesh. Each lash leaving its dragon tail mark.
Princess Spanky pushed up hard to greet every one of the dragon’s kisses, and the hard nipples of her Mistress’s breasts pushed hard against her thin white cotton.
“Dance my Precious, do the Dance of the Dragon for me.” Roared her Mistress, as the fire in her pet’s bouncing bottom exploded.
She leapt from foot to foot, squealing and screaming the song of the dragon as she danced…
“Right, stand still for the final few, legs wide, and push that bottom up high girl!”
“Yes Mistress, yes, yes, yes!”
Pain and pleasure connected the two girls as thick, cold leather joined them together in the harmony of the Dragon Dance!
As the last whacks, thwacked, against the rippling buttocks of her pet, the room fell silent again, heavy breathing and the aroma of female sweat filled the air…
Once again my friend and Headmaster of Broadly Bottom College, had been writing to me, if you click on the link above, you will understand more of why we do so.
Do you remember the two girls who did a line dancing display, in the last letter he wrote, well it inspired him to take some girls to a visitor attraction, which includes a mock up Wild West town. In the curriculum they have covered everything from Native Americans to the Battle of Little Big Horn and all else in between. It has been quite a comprehensive coverage of the Wild West, so this was a reward.
He took a coach and with him were 38 young ladies from his College, all were in fancy dress for the day. Most of it went very well indeed, but of course, there were a few who got carried away, and had to be dealt with in the old fashioned way.
The Headmaster himself looked excellent in his cowboy outfit, the staff at the Theme park said that his chase of a girl he caught smoking was worthy of any cowboy chasing a steer with a lasso…
You might find it hard to believe, but his girls are as bad as any in my ‘Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls’, he even caught one girl as drunk as a skunk in the Saloon called the ‘Wild Wild Women Saloon’. The girl, Sharon was wild, because her dragged her out and spanked her over a barrel for all to see, then left her on show bent over for quite a while afterwards!
But the naughtiest girl of all was one who went as a Wrangler, she had a pair of ‘chaps’ over some jeans, but when they all set off for the visit from the coach, he never noticed what she had done to her jeans!
After a series of complaints he went to find her.
It appears he pulled her up onto a stage coach, and spanked her as it was pulled all the way down the main street, slowly, much to everyone’s amusement. It was said that it brought forth more cheering than the afternoon rodeo!
Despite her promises, and my warnings, Samantha found herself in my study once again…
As always she was beautifully turned out, it has to be said that she takes pride in her appearance.
I asked her to explain her actions and why she has ended up back here after her first spanking and corner time. She struggled with anything other than that she had been naughty, been caught, put on report, and then she became quite glum.
As at her last visit, when I announced that she was to be spanked, she fought back tears.
“Now come on, don’t be silly, you will get spanked whether you make a fuss or not, it is up to you. Put your bag and hockey stick down over there please.
I put her into the place I intended to spank her, and told her to bend over. I made her clasp her hands and grip them between her knees.”Do not remove your hands at any time…understand?”
“Yes Mr.Jones Sir.” Was her sorry reply.
I raised her green gymslip.
Then I lowered her navy blue knickers, to reveal a fine bottom for spanking.
It came as quite a shock to her when I picked up my size fifteen plimsol and delivered four resounding whacks to each cheek. She squealed loudly begging me to stop and saying how sorry she was. To her credit, her hands did not move.
I stood as if watching a sunset, as the red shiny glow on her grand orbs grew and grew. She whimpered and cried, and sniffled, but remained in position as a chastised and punished girl should. I saw the stingy redness reach its peak, it must have been stinging immensely but she did not try to rub, much to her credit. Many get an extra few for doing so.
Once again I put her in corner time, there was just one visitor during her ten minutes, and that was the school caretaker asking for an order for some consumables to be signed. I could see her cringe, and him smile as he looked. It is all part of the punishment.
There was another knock on the door, after my secretary had buzzed the arrival of the next naughty girl to bare. So after saying “Enter!!!”, they passed each other, and the day’s conveyor belt of fresh pale bare bottoms to turn spanked blushing red, continued.
To see lots more of the spanking stories from one of my very talented club members who is a regular contributor, click on ‘Links and Contributors’ in the above menu bar, then click on ‘Contributors’ and scroll down to her entertaining page…
…oooOOOooo…
Victoriana – Part 1
The dream had taken me back in time, Daddy had pulled me over his knees, raised my pleated school skirt, pulled my knickers deep into my valleys and vigorously spanked my bare bum.
I had a long cooling shower before getting dressed for my day at the bank.
After
a short bike ride to the nearby market town the tellers of the local
Barclay Bank greeted me with courteous, “Good morning Miss Alicia!” I
returned their greetings with a warm smile. They again seemed to compete
as to whom would wear the shortest miniskirt. At 22, only a few of
years older, I would have loved to join the competition, but I am their
supervisor.
I
dropped my bag on my desk and climbed the stairs to poke my head into
the office of the manager’s secretary. As usual she was having coffee
with the deputy manager. I was offered a cup. A few minutes later we
were joined by our manager. He poured himself a cup and point blank
questioned me, “How’s your French Alicia?”
“Average… Sir.”
“You are due a promotion and London is offering the position of deputy manager of the Calais branch.”
“You
would have a leave to beef up your French. Your language coach or
whatever program will be paid by the bank. You have a week to think
about it.”
On
the way back home I was milling over that proposition and almost missed
the opening of a newly renovated shop. A rare occurrence with the local
supermarket having killed most of the small shops of our residential
suburb.
The name and the purpose was interesting, Victoriana Vintage Fashion and Haberdashery. I attached my bike to a nearby lamppost and examined the window. There was of course plenty of haberdashery supplies and a strange mix of dress patterns from the 70s and a number of Enid Blyton’s books.
I also spotted inside the shop a mannequin dressed with a lovely tartan pinafore.
I pushed the door, a small bell chimed, I was welcomed by a middle aged lady behind a very modern sewing machine. After a polite exchange I asked if I could have a look around. “By all means! Please don’t mind me, I already have plenty of work.”
The
shop was set up so that visitors could browse without being under the
eyes of its owner. I could discreetly satisfy my curiosity. The tag on
the pinafore read, ‘Made to measure, £107’
That wasn’t cheap! There was a wooden bookcase with more books by Enid
Blyton and an assortment of school like cotton knickers and woolly knee
high socks. Several clothes racks offered a selection of dresses and
skirts similar to those pictured by the patterns in the window. Most
tags read, “Made to measure, please ask for a quote.”
Those
dresses and skirts weren’t as short as those of my bank tellers, it was
only the fashion of the 70s, the start of the miniskirt revolution. I
suddenly remembered my first mini, Mom had smacked my thighs, “Now you
have a choice, wear that brazen skirt showing that you were spanked or
wear a proper one!”
I
did wear it a few years later when they retired by the sea after having
sold their business. I did also wear it at the bank as it isn’t too
short contrary to Mom’s ideas.
I
spotted a cute set of a short tartan pleated skirt with a white long
sleeve blouse and a black sleeveless sweater. The tag said that it came
with white cotton knickers and knee high socks for £70. Somehow it
reminded me of my old school uniform. Although I didn’t know if I will
ever dare wear it, I tried it on. The stretch waist was an easy fit, and
the lady asked how short I want the skirt, “Not to short please.”
I
collected it Thursday late afternoon on the way back home. I tried the
skirt on. I loved that it was quite short without being too short. It
felt flirty. I imagined testing it on a few dishy guys at the local
coffee shop. I again remembered Mom having smacked my thighs.
Then I was surprised to find a small leaflet in the pocket within the waist band.
“Would you like to learn French ?
Old fashioned method
Guarantied results !”
There
was no address, no telephone number, nothing. With the Calais offer in
the back of my mind, and the intriguing promise of guarantied results I
was very curious! I returned to the shop to show that leaflet to the
seamstress. She gave me a card,
Ecole Ecarlate
Enseignement tradionnel du français
Birchwood Manor
Upper Switchingham
There
was an address and no telephone number. I didn’t know that manor, but I
knew the picturesque village. With a beguiling smile the old lady said,
“You already have the uniform.” I raised both eyebrows, and she added
with a somewhat admonishing tone, “Be sure to wear it when visiting.”
Alicia
To be continued…
B keeps her own fabulous blog, and runs a comprehensive, realistic spanking game on line…
