Search This Blog

Saturday, 27 February 2021

Survey: Favourite Janus model all-time (round 1, match 6)

In the sixth match of the Janus Cup, we have two wonderfully curvy blondes vying for our favour — Tara Duncan and Lucy Bailey. I have a feeling this one could be close  they even look a little alike  but who will advance to the quarter-finals?

Vote by clicking on this button 🔘

Seed #6. Tara Duncan — Disciplinary Measures (132), A Punishing Experience (139), Short Sharp Shock (155), Tara's Secret Life (156)


Seed #11. Lucy Bailey — Gentleman’s Agreement (95), Juliet Tessler – My Fantasy (124), Military Discipline (129), Punishment Series — Juliet Tessler (132)


Another convincing victory in the first round of the Janus Cup, with Wendy East garnering a comfortable 74% of the vote against Vida Garman to advance to the quarters.

Knickers down, skirt up and bend over the desk please Vida, while I fetch my trusty cane…


Russian Spring

A story from Blushes 20 bearing the hallmarks of R.T. Mason. It features the lovely Samantha Richards, who wrote to the Janus website regarding her modelling experience – see Memories of a Blushes Spanking Model.

The grounds were kept as they had been many years before, before the revolution, modelled on those of the English leisured classes. Paved walks and well-kept lawns… a summer house protection against the sun and rain. For the climate here, away from the fiercer winters to the north, was not un-English and there could be those long rainy days in summer. Outside the grounds though, it wasn’t England; it was Russian forest, with beyond that, a collective farm.

The girl stood by the weathered summer house. Teenaged, 17 in fact, tallish and shapely in a white dress against the rather dull spring day. A palely pretty face framed by dark curling hair, she also, without too much stretch of the imagination, could have been the daughter of some English aristocrat. In fact Tanya Sergevna Galinova came from the town of Yalinsk 50 miles away, her father a factory worker.

She stood, pensive, fingers playing abstractedly with her dress. Comrade Director Krotkin had been called in for the phone, going off angrily, annoyed at the interruption. He would only be a minute. Tanya Sergevna bit her lip. She could feel her heart thumping.

A train ride this morning, arriving at the little station to be met by the big black car which took her the remaining few miles. It was all tremendously exciting for Tanya had never been anywhere by herself before. It had been tremendously exciting ever since she had learnt that she had been chosen for this honour. It was because she was a grade A student in all her subjects at school of course. That and no doubt also the fact that Tanya Galinova was a very pretty girl.

Her friend Olga when Tanya told her had giggled and whispered in Tanya’s ears, ‘He’ll screw you.’

Olga of course was jealous, that was why she had said that, using that crude word. Tanya going red had twisted Olga’s arm behind her back until she withdrew the nasty things she’d said. Tanya’s mother indeed had stressed that it was not only an honour but could be very valuable to Tanya. Comrade Krotkin was Regional Director of Education and clearly had great influence; he could therefore see that Tanya got a place at a prestige university. So it behoved Tanya to be on her very best and most charming behaviour.

No, Natalia Galinova did not think Comrade Krotkin would want to do what Olga had wickedly whispered. Because she knew someone who knew someone else whose daughter had been to that estate as a companion for Comrade Director Krotkin and the information was that he did not want to do that. He was, though, a keen disciplinarian. He did like to use the cane.

Natalia Galinova, kissing her daughter goodbye this morning, had not been too unhappy about the possibility of the cane. That was a small price to pay if a girl’s future could be secured. She was thinking that still, now, queuing outside a bread shop in Yalinsk as here on the old estate Comrade Krotkin came out of the house after his annoying phone call.

It was annoying because it had not been anything of any great importance, a matter his office should have been able to deal with without calling him. He, Oleg Ivanovitch Krotkin, would deal with certain persons when he got back because when a man went off for a short and well-earned break he expected to be able to relax and forget the cares of the office. With a little effort Oleg Krotkin dismissed the matter from his mind. He must not feel annoyed because that would spoil his pleasure, his relaxation.

His pleasure with this delightful girl.

He walked out. A pleasant spring afternoon but mild and the sense of nature stirring. A marvellous time of the year to get away to the estate where there were just the housekeeper and a couple of gardeners plus his chauffeur. In the old days probably hundreds of servants here but Oleg Krotkin liked solitude. Just one young companion. One at a time that was. Had that aristocrat in the old days had similar pleasures? Peasant girls on the estate? Very likely, life did not really change.

He went to sit on one of the canvas chairs. The girl was still waiting by the summer house. He called her over. Yes, quite delightful. A liquid youthful walk. Slim but with fullish hips. She came close, to stand at his side. Director Krotkin slid his hand up her skirt. Up the backs of bare thighs to the firm swell of her bottom. A bottom that was almost bare, the vestigial silk garment bisecting rather than covering the rounded cheeks.

Tanya’s breath hissed out. She had expected him to do this, though, because he had done it already before. He had done it as soon as she got out of the big black car when she arrived. Greeting her with a kiss on each cheek and then his hand going up her skirt.

Tanya had had her own knickers on then, and her own dress as well. Her own cotton knickers which properly covered her bottom, but inside the house when the housekeeper showed Tanya her room she had shown her also what was in a drawer. Silk knickers in various colours that were all very, very brief. Laughing and holding up a pair of white briefs she said they came from France.

‘Nice and sexy, eh Tanya? Are you a sexy girl?’

And there was also the dress in a cupboard. That came from England: a beautiful white lawn dress with lace embroidery at the neck and sleeves. Tanya was to take her own clothes off and put the dress and knickers on. Nothing else. No petticoat and no bra. Tanya had naturally done as she was told though now with that thing that Olga had said spinning round in her head: He’ll screw you, Tanya. The housekeeper, a middle-aged woman with a round smiling face, had said again, ‘Are you a sexy girl, Tanya?’

Flushing, Tanya had shaken her head. Downstairs of course Comrade Director Krotkin was waiting. Telling her how lovely she looked. Briefly squeezing the bumps that Tanya’s firm tits made in the front of the thin cotton dress. And then sliding his hand up the dress to her bottom in those almost non-existent knickers. After this second greeting he took her out to the garden, but almost immediately there was the phone call. Now he was back and she at his side and Comrade Director Krotkin’s hand was up at her bottom again.

‘The wretched phone, Tanya Sergevna. What a dreadful invention, eh? So, what are we to do with this delightful girl, to amuse her? Smack her delightful bottom would you say?’

What could you say to that? Tanya smiled weakly. Her mother of course had said be on her very best behaviour. Charming and of course co-operative. But her mother presumably didn’t know about Comrade Krotkin’s grabbing hands. Or these knickers. An involuntary little squeak as fingers probed intimately.

‘Croquet, Tanya? Have you played croquet?’

Tanya shook her head. The croquet things were at the side. Tanya recognised what they were but she had never played the game.

Comrade Krotkin smiled.

‘Excellent, Tanya Sergevna. I shall teach you. As it happens I am quite good. We will have a game and if you win I shall give you five roubles. If I win I shall cane this marvellous bottom. Is that fair?’ he laughed. ‘You are not likely to win, of course. Unless there is beginner’s luck.’

Tanya shivered. She saw now what she hadn’t noticed before, standing with the croquet mallets. A cane. He presumably wasn’t joking? But at least being caned would not be as bad as… as what Olga had said.

There was no beginner’s luck. Tanya got the hang of the game but the Comrade Director was playing to win. He would ruthlessly knock Tanya’s ball away, something that was apparently allowed in the rules. Yes, Comrade Krotkin won all right.

He squeezed her arm as they walked back to the chairs. And then Comrade Krotkin’s hand was at Tanya’s bottom again. He did seem to be obsessed by that part of her. ‘So now we have the rewards and penalties, eh Tanya?’

Yes. Kneel up on one of the canvas chairs and hold onto the back. Comrade Krotkin grabbing up the skirt of that expensive dress, up round her waist. Making appreciative sounds, and groping her half-bare bottom. Then pushing the abbreviated briefs right into the cleft of her bottom so that the twin cheeks were quite bare. More grunts of approval. Tanya, gripping onto the seat, feeling sick with apprehension, fright. That cane…

She had never been caned. There was the cane at school but girls had it across the hand and in any case Tanya Sergevna Galinova had never been either. Always a grade A student. Unfortunately it was the good students, the best behaved ones, that Director Krotkin liked. Those who were also pretty and with a nice figure of course. Those were the ones he requested.


Tanya’s desperate yelp splitting the silence of the tranquil garden. She had thought, or hoped, that it might not be hard, more of a joke because it could only be a joke that you got caned for losing a game of croquet. But it was no joke, not that stinging, vicious cut across the full out-thrust curve of her bottom. It was like a swarm of bees all going in at once.

The second was as bad as the first; worse because it was on top of that already knifing pain. Tanya’s taut bottom writhing, clenching. Oleg Krotkin observing with rapt-eyed gloating pleasure.

As Regional Director of course he could bring students here and no one was going to question it. Checking up on the better students, an honour for them in fact, and at the same time a little taste of discipline never went amiss.

Only girls naturally. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. The good-looking good performers, the ones who therefore wouldn’t have experienced it before. Virgin flesh, one could say. Virgin to the cane at least.


The cry this time not so sharp and clear because pretty Tanya Sergevna was now crying. Sobbing. It was a sound Oleg Krotkin loved to hear and he would probably have continued with the cane until he did hear it. Much more than the sharp squeals it was evidence that the pretty young comrade was suffering, and a little genuine suffering and pain was an excellent thing in any young life. He gave her three more, just to make quite sure of the suffering.

Then putting down the cane. His hand running lightly over his handiwork, the red-striped bottom. Oh yes. Marvellous. This was what made the spring sap rise. Helping the sobbing girl to her feet. His arm round the slim waist. Oh yes. There was nothing like whipping a young comrade to get the blood coursing through the veins.

In the house Director Krotkin poured some wine, then sat Tanya on his lap. His hand rubbed briskly over those delightful bumps at the front of her dress. Yes indeed. He had certainly been cooped up in his office for far too long. ‘How was that, Tanya Sergevna? Rousing to the young flesh?’

Tanya stuttered something. Her bottom which she now had to sit on was still stinging dreadfully.

‘What I think you need before we eat is perhaps a nice warm bath, eh? To soothe the tender flesh.’ Comrade Krotkin pushed her to her feet. ‘Take off the dress. Also the knickers.’

Yes, a little more pleasure for an over-worked official. Important state functionaries needed some relaxation, so that they could operate efficiently. Tanya fumbled with her dress. Olga’s words kept coming back into her head but she forced them away, Co-operative and willing, her mother had said, so that Director Krotkin would see she got that university place. She would mention it — when the moment seemed right. Her dress off she stood before him, making her hands stay down at her sides and not cover the firm, high breasts.

‘And the knickers, my pretty.’ Tanya slid down the skimpy silk pants. Yes she would say something to the Comrade Director. When the time was right. That was not now, though… as Comrade Krotkin pulled her forward and down, face-down, over his lap. His hand at the still sore bottom. Stroking.

Outside, the tranquil garden silent now except for the song of a few bright-eyed birds. The sun hidden by cloud but its warmth pervading, warming the earth, swelling the buds, forcing up the sap.

The model — Samantha Richards

Friday, 26 February 2021

Letters from Whispers 7

Dear Editor,
What a marvellous magazine you produce. It is refreshing to see and read about so many precocious young ladies getting the correct treatment. So long as a girl is still at school, she should be treated as a schoolgirl, and punished when she steps out of line.
A number of your articles deal with sexually over-active girls being punished with a good thrashing on that part of their anatomy which the Almighty provided for the purpose. It is my experience however, that such activity often begins at a much earlier age than most of the cases which you quote, and it is most important to nip such activity in the bud.
I have personal experience of two such cases. Firstly, some years ago, we had charge of my wife’s niece, when her parents were abroad. One afternoon, I discovered her reading Lady Chatterley’s Lover. The rest of the family were out. I took her up to her bedroom, and after tears and promises of good behaviour, I unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, followed by her white aertex briefs, and put her over my knee. She got a spanking to remember. I cannot deny that it was pleasant to administer justice. Her bottom was tight and firm, and her struggles showed me more of her than I have seen before or since.
The second case was that of our sixteen-year-old Mother’s Help, when I was working abroad. My wife was summoned home suddenly on account of her mother’s illness, and the girl was left to look after me. In our earlier discussions I had learnt that she had been to an Army co-educational boarding school where the chastisement of girls was not officially allowed, but that it had gone on all the same. Her pert little posterior had been subjected to this excellent treatment. When we then had a number of incidents of coming in late and I had threatened the sack and a letter to her parents, she begged me in tears to punish her and say no more. She was duly bent over the sitting room sofa, her skirt tucked out of the way, and her knickers pulled tightly into her crotch, so that most of her bum was exposed, but her modesty was preserved. I gave her six with a garden cane, and two more for putting her hand in the way. She was the first girl that I had caned, although, as a school prefect, I had been allowed to chastise the junior boys.
Later that evening, she came to me and apologised for her behaviour and said that her bum was so sore! She dropped her pyjama trousers and showed me the eight red weals.
Keep up the good work!
Tom B.

Dear Sirs,
On a recent visit to England I discovered your magazines and I was fascinated. The quality of the photography, the attractive models, and the alluring poses have convinced me that Blushes and the Supplements are some of the best sex magazines on the market. Incidentally, is there any shop that stocks all the issues that are available? I ask because there are almost certain to be copies that I haven’t seen and that I’d like to possess.
May I be permitted to make two small criticisms? Firstly, sometimes our view of the model is obstructed by various objects such as chairs. Please don’t spoil the beauty of the pictures in this way. Secondly, the photos are taken from all angles, but not very often are we treated to a view of the model’s private parts from behind. To my way of thinking, there’s nothing more beautiful than a photo of a girl lying on her stomach with her legs wide open — a photo that has been taken from a position between her legs. Please publish pictures of all your models in this position.
The two models that have attracted my attention most are Emma and the blonde on pages 25-27, both of whom can be seen in Supplement No. 9. I would like to see more photos published of these two beauties. Some of the pictures in the issue just mentioned would have been better if there had been nothing to obstruct our view. Do you by any chance have the photos on pages 11 and 16 without the obstructions? if so, please publish them. The pose adopted by the blonde on pages 25-27 would be even more exciting if her legs were wide open and the camera was positioned between them. Both models are so attractive that I’d like to see them in the pose mentioned in the last sentence and in the position which I mentioned in the last paragraph. Please don’t disappoint me.
The blonde
Now I want to make a few suggestions for my two favourite models. Please punish both while they are leaning over a wooden fence (preferably in the country with spectators looking on) and over the punishment frame that can be seen in various magazines. The bottom should be as high as possible and there should be a close-up photo as described in paragraph two. For ‘Emma’ I suggest the following scenario. She should be dressed as in Supplement No. 9 and have the same hairstyle — she looks perfect in those photos. Emma is forgetful and annoys her teacher by leaving her homework at home. He has no time to give her extra work during the lesson, but later that day (during the dinner break) he’s walking past the gym when he hears a noise. It’s Emma, who has left her P.E. kit there, and her young-looking boyfriend. He reprimands them and then suddenly notices that Emma is wearing ordinary shoes whereas she should be wearing gym-shoes. He decides to punish her there and then.
He removes his belt and orders her to take off her skirt (please take a photo of her in her navy knickers) and then her knickers (next photo is of Emma revealing her nude pussy.) The boy stands there admiring the scene. The teacher then hits upon the idea of making use of the gym. Emma is told to hang from the wall-bars showing her bottom and he spanks her in that position. Next she has to lie on her stomach on a bench with her legs on either side (please take a photo of her private parts). The next pose is Emma lying lengthways over the vaulting-horse (with her legs apart, of course). Hanging upside down from the rings could be another position, and the session could be concluded with various positions on the mat, for example a back-bend, the pose shown on pages 25-27 of Supplement No 9, and the position taken up when one is about to do a somersault. At the end of the scene Emma should be made to stand in the corner with her back to the teacher and the boy. A photo such as on page 16 of Supplement No 9 would be the crowning touch. What do you think of my scenario? Could you do it with Emma or, if not, with the blonde? I hope so.
I will now close. Many thanks for all the pleasure you’ve given me, and I hope you can grant my wishes before my next visit to England at Whitsun.
All the best for 1986.

Dear Sir,
I have a strange tale to tell which I am sure will interest your readers.
Some fifteen years ago I was living in a small village in Cornwall. My neighbour was a man in his late fifties who lived with his daughter, his wife had left him some years back. Janet his daughter was at the time sixteen years old, I quite often heard her crying and yelling ‘No dad please it hurts,’ so I realised young Janet was probably subjected to some sort of physical punishment. I found this exciting and decided to find out more. To cut a long story short I met him in the local one night slightly the worse for wear. It seemed he had bad financial troubles and was in desperate need of funds. I lent him thirty pounds and by this means got into his confidence.
It appeared Janet suffered spankings and canings on a fairly regular basis. By the time the night was over he proved to be a thoroughly disreputable character. It was agreed I would witness one of these sessions, I would be secreted behind one of her bedroom walls in a loft area. The appointed night arrived and I was staring through a discreetly bored hole into Janet’s bedroom. Janet and her father arrived in the room. The girl was sobbing and protesting that she had done nothing to deserve this. Regardless her father sat on the bed and pulled her across his knees. The spanking Janet received was fairly severe, given however on the seat of her pants.
The whole process took about a quarter of an hour and left me wanting more. The girl went to bed and I crept down into the living room. My neighbour appeared somewhat red-faced from his exertions. Well, he enquired, what did you think. I cleared my throat, ‘Could we come to some sort of arrangement about this,’ I asked.
‘I don’t see why not’, he replied. ‘It would cost you, mind.’
‘Fair enough; when do you think we could arrange another session,’ I urged.
‘How much are you prepared to pay,’ he asked.
‘Well,’ I replied, ‘bare bottom and very hard, fifty pounds.’ This was a considerable sum of money at the time and I saw his eyes light up. ‘How about tomorrow night.’ I reasoned that after tonight’s tanning her bottom would still be a bit tender. ‘Let’s leave it until Saturday — give her a chance to get over that little walloping tonight.’ It was agreed and the three days I had to wait built up the excitement in me to virtually bursting point.
On Saturday as arranged we met once again the pub. In talking to him I suspected he was going to get as much fun out of this as I was. I gave him the fifty pounds and put another tenner on the counter. If I’m pleased with the performance you get that as a bonus I informed him. He nodded enthusiastically. After a pleasant drinking session I was once more hidden behind the wall.
The light clicked on and Janet came into the room. She was crying and obviously very distressed. Her father followed her and my heart gave a jump. In his hand he carried a cane. ‘Now, I want no nonsense, my girl,’ he growled and pulled her into the middle of the room. She had her back to me so when he ordered her to touch her toes I was treated to the sight of a lovely pair of thighs as her skirt rode up. Pulling her skirt clear of the target area he slung it up onto her back. Next he pulled her pants up tight, very tight, the blue nylon disappeared into the crease of her bottom. Standing to one side he lined the cane up tapping gently to gain an aim.
His arm went up and the cane slashed down across the centre of her lovely cheeks. From my vantage point I saw a vivid weal spring up almost immediately. With what must have amounted to super human effort Janet managed to stay in position, indeed she remained in position for two more vicious cuts. Then leaping up with her hands clutched to her bottom she sobbed for it to end.
Father was not swayed however, I’m glad to report.
‘Right you little bitch’, he almost croaked. ‘You know what the punishment for that is, get your pants down.’
My heart almost stopped. She begged and pleaded however her pants finished up on the floor and she was touching her toes again. She received six more strokes during which time her legs drifted apart giving me exquisite little glances at her girlish secrets.
At the end of this he ordered the sobbing girl to stand in the corner and he left the room. I crept from my hiding place and once again met him in his sitting room.
He had poured two drinks and was already drinking his. I picked mine up and took a long gulp. During this performance I had reached the heights but not the pinnacle of ecstasy. My neighbour was quick to notice this and even quicker to profit by it. ‘She’s been a very naughty girl and could possibly deserve a bit more,’ he rasped. I had a mental battle with myself. My conscience told me the poor girl had suffered enough for one night. One look at my neighbour’s face however, told me Janet was standing in the corner awaiting her father’s return.
Janet was obviously going to get another visit. So salving my guilty conscience I agreed to increase his bonus if she was given three more strokes of the cane followed by a no nonsense spanking.
Once more comfortably settled in my hiding place I spied Janet still facing the corner opposite. On her father’s instructions she had tucked her skirt into the waistband leaving her bottom quite bare. The criss-cross welts stood out an angry reddish blue. Her father entered the room swishing the cane. The dialogue that took place between the two of them is as crystal clear now as it was then, such was its impact on me.
‘Three more my girl.’
‘Oh, no dad please!’
‘Bend over or it will be six!’
‘Oh, you can’t dad! I couldn’t take it! Please, I’ve got to go to the toilet!’
The last request seemed to be a means of putting off the inevitable.
‘You can go to the toilet when I have finished with you, young lady!’
‘But dad, I’ll wet myself!’
‘If you do, you’ll get the cane so hard you won’t sit down for a week!’
To my eternal shame I found myself hoping she would indeed disgrace herself. However, she accepted her fate and touched her toes. Those final three cuts must have been agony. The minute he had finished he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the bed. Plopping down he pulled her across his knees. She screamed for mercy but received absolutely none.
Most of the spanking was across the backs of her legs. He smacked from the tops just under the fold of her bottom to almost her knees. She squealed and wriggled delightfully. Finally he gripped her in a tighter hold and began on her cane-striped bottom. She yelled, ‘No dad! I’m going to wet myself!’ This was met by a renewed fury of spanks. Whether she did wet herself I don’t know, but when her father finally dumped her on the floor she was nearly hysterical.
This was the start of a beautiful friendship between me many hours of pleasure and Janet many hours of sore bottoms and legs.
A one-time contented neighbour.
P.R. Somerset

Spanking Art — Darcy 38: The Wait is Over

Thursday, 25 February 2021

Four Case Histories

A true-life (?) article by A.C. Ormskirk, from Janus 16

Introductory Note: Three years ago, with my Bachelor’s Degree in Sociology completed, I was at something of a loss for a suitable subject for my Doctoral Thesis. I wanted something both interesting and in an unresearched area, and I was having difficulty coming up with an answer. Then my professor, half joking at the time I think, suggested the subject of adult corporal punishment in present day society. He remarked that it seemed to be a not uncommon practice and one which had never been systematically studied.

As I say I wasn’t sure that he meant to be taken seriously but the more I thought about it the more intrigued I became, and the more convinced that here was indeed a fertile and fascinating area for study. The net result is that I have now spent three most industrious years researching the subject and have amassed a great deal of data. There remains the daunting task of collating it all for my thesis.

Meanwhile a colleague has suggested that some of my material would be of particular interest to readers of Janus. I am therefore presenting four typical cases which I think give a good example of the richness and diversity of my material.

All four cases are taken from my Category A — No Experience Before Adulthood — and are also all in the Sub-Category: Subject Generally Willing or Co-operative (as opposed to the other main subgroup: Subject Not Willing or Co-operative). The four cases described are additionally all examples of women receiving CP from men. This is generally thought of as the typical situation; however, although it did predominate, I obtained many examples of the alternative, i.e. a woman subject receiving CP from another woman.

A brief note on my methods: Subjects initially responded (simply Yes or No, in confidence) to the question ‘Have you any experience of corporal punishment?’ Those answering ‘Yes’ were followed up and requested to give an interview (in the subject’s home or my office) in which they completed a more extended questionnaire and then related details of their experience(s). They were encouraged to give as full details as possible, as will be evident from the examples which follow. Interviews were taped and subsequently written up.

All of this of course was carried out in strict confidence. In general I was able to get very good co-operation once I had assured subjects that my work had a scientific basis and would remain strictly confidential. (In this connection I make the point that many of the married women I interviewed had not disclosed all or part of their experiences to their husbands so the need to reassure them on this score was evident.)

In the Case Histories, which follow, I have retained Christian names but surnames are naturally fictitious.



Subject: Pamela Smith, aged 25. Housewife, living in one of the pleasanter suburbs of Birmingham. Husband (Derek, 27 years), middle-income office worker. Couple have been married 4 years and have no children. Pamela is a pretty brunette of average height with an attractive figure.

Subject was somewhat shy at first and said she did not find it easy to talk about her experiences. However, she became more confident as the interview progressed.

Interview with Pamela Smith: ‘I suppose I’m what you might call a natural for it. Spanking and caning, I mean. Some men just seem to be able to sense that I — well, that I won’t be able to say No if they insist. I never actually had any of it as a girl but I did have these fantasies — of a powerful dominating man dealing with me when I had been naughty. But as a girl I never actually met anyone like that and also Derek, my husband, is not that type either. The actual reality started — well, about six months after we were married.

It was at a company dance — ballroom dancing, you know, where the man holds you, not this modern dancing — and really I could almost sense something when he walked across the room to where Derek and I were sitting. I didn’t know him — the company Derek works for is quite big with a number of different branches, so it wasn’t all that surprising. He was middle-aged, tall and heavily built. And with these eyes which I could see staring straight at me as he came over.

He asked if he could dance with me and his voice had a hard commanding tone that was sending shivers down me before he even touched me. And on the floor with the strong arm round my waist and his big body all up against me — well, I just felt a bit dizzy.

He said he was with the London branch of the company and he knew my husband slightly. Then he asked how long I’d been married and I told him — only six months. He said young wives needed to be taken firmly in hand, and had I been taken in hand? I didn’t know what to say and just mumbled something.

And then his right hand, not the one round my waist, came down behind me and simply took hold of my bottom. I had a thin full-skirted dress on with just my knickers underneath and as we danced he just kept his hand there — on my bottom, through those two thin layers, squeezing and groping it. And I just let him do it. There was this feeling of helplessness. That I couldn’t stop anything he wanted to do. He was the man I had been fantasizing about as a schoolgirl.

It was quite crowded with a lot of people dancing so there was no real danger of people seeing what his hand was doing — but if there had been I still wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Then giving my bottom an extra-hard grope he said, ‘Have you had this dealt with yet?’ Blushing, I shook my head, not sure what he meant. Then he said, ‘Have you had it spanked?’

What he then said, before we finished dancing, was that he wanted to come round and see me one morning, at my house, when I was alone. And almost like it was in a dream I could hear myself saying, ‘Next Tuesday…’

Back with Derek I could hardly think. He asked me who that man was and I said the name and he said, ‘Oh yes, he’s a senior executive with the London branch.’ Someone else asked me to dance and was chatting away but I didn’t hear a word. All I could think of was next Tuesday… and what this man was going to do to me.

What he did, after I made him some coffee, was spank me. Made me get over his lap as he sat on the settee in my lounge and pulled up my skirt and slip, and then pulled my knickers down and just started spanking my bare bottom. That hard male hand coming down repeatedly on my soft bare flesh. He hit me hard and it was really stinging… but it was what I had dreamed of since I was a teenager. Being over a man’s lap and having my bare bottom smacked. It was so exciting that I felt I was going to faint. And the more it hurt the more exciting it was.

He did this a couple more times in the next week — came round to my house and took my knickers down and spanked me. Nothing else. I mean he didn’t try to have intercourse or anything, although I could not have stopped him.

Then he had to go back to his London office. And for the next six months I visited him there, once a week driving down and back without Derek knowing. It’s just as well that he’s not the kind of husband who’s always checking the milometer on the car. I either went to his office or to his flat. And on each of these visits he caned me. On my bare bottom. Either over his desk in his office (with the door locked) or over the arm of an armchair at his flat. It hurt of course — the cane really does hurt — but, well, it really turned me on.

It was really super, those weekly trips… But then after six months it ended. He transferred to a job abroad. Afterwards… well, I didn’t know what to do with myself. No, he never had intercourse with me…

Then a month later, after he’d left, more or less the same thing happened again. At a party given by some people we don’t know very well. The man… he seemed to be able to sense the same thing as (Mr X). That I couldn’t really say No to it. He actually did it right there at the party. Spanked me. Made me go into one of the bedrooms with him, then put a chair against the door and took me over his knee and took my knickers down.

He’s been doing it ever since. He’s a rep and doesn’t live near us but when he comes through, about once a month, he always does it. Comes to my house and spanks or canes me. Yes, I have had intercourse with him. Three or four times, all at my house.

There was a third episode last year when Derek and I were on holiday in Italy. Derek had gone off on a fishing trip and the hotel manager came into my room. He started chatting me up and then very soon, as we stood looking out of the window, he was openly feeling me up as well. His hands were going everywhere. I wanted to stop him but at the same time I didn’t want to stop him. And basically I was letting him do it.

Then of course he wanted more, and started trying to get me down on the bed while at the same time trying to get my knickers down. Well, I knew what he wanted — to screw me — and I definitely didn’t want that and I started to struggle in earnest. And then he changed his tactics and I realised he was pulling me over his lap. He started spanking me… and I stopped struggling.

He came in and did the same thing the next day when Derek was out. Pulled me over his lap and spanked me, only this time taking my knickers down. And I let him do it. Afterwards there was a struggle as he wanted the other thing, but he didn’t manage to get it.

The same thing happened on two more occasions before we left. The last time, I don’t know; I was struggling the same, but he managed to do it. To screw me. No, I didn’t tell Derek any of this…’



Subject: Susan Brown, aged 26. Housewife, living on a modern estate in a small Home Counties town. Two young children. Husband (Alan, also 26) medium grade civil servant.

Susan is a pretty brunette of medium height and with a very good figure. Her breasts are especially good and at the interview, at her house, this was evident from the obvious fact that she had no bra on under her blouse. Unlike the previous subject Susan Brown was not at all shy. I remarked on her attractive breasts and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra and although she said she had meant to put one on but had been rather flustered by her husband being late for work, etc., I got the impression that she might have left it off deliberately so that I could have an uninterrupted view of what she had ‘up front’.

After a short discussion of her mammary development and the fact that she clearly did not need a bra, at least not for support, she agreed that it was another part of her anatomy which she was going to talk about. This part of her, I could see when she stood up, was also very good — marginally on the heavy side, but firm and shapely.

Interview with Susan Brown: ‘It was two years ago when we were on holiday in France, staying in a rented country cottage. We didn’t have Debbie then, only Samantha, and we had left her with a babysitter while we went out for the day in the car. We walked in some woods and had a picnic. And then we felt like, you know, doing it. Having sex. I was wearing jeans and I took them off and my knickers, and then we laid down on the blanket.

Well, we were doing it, Alan on top of me, and I was looking up over his shoulder at the trees and the sky. When suddenly there were two faces there as well. Men’s faces. Alan of course didn’t see them and he just went on fucking me while I lay underneath him with my legs up round his back… and with these two men looking down. It was really scary. Then one of them pushed Alan with his foot and of course Alan stopped.

Well, they said we were trespassing on private property and that this was a serious crime in France. They said we had to go with them. I struggled back into my knickers and jeans while the two men (one in his twenties and the other older) watched. They took us to a farmhouse and the younger one, who spoke quite good English, said we were going to be taught a lesson.

In the farmhouse kitchen there were various other people. The women and children were sent out and there were then four men left, including one old one — the grandfather, I suppose. Then the older of the two who’d brought us there took a leather strap out of a cupboard. And they told me to take my jeans down and bend over the edge of the table.

It was unbelievable, of course, but there was nothing we could do, not with the four of them there. I had to do it — had to unzip my jeans and take them down and then get over that table. They took my knickers down as well and then he just laid into my bottom with that strap. God, it really stung! And all Alan could do was stand there and watch.

After they’d finished with me they let us go. They didn’t do anything to Alan: I suppose his punishment was having to watch me get it. We were both in a state of shock as we walked back to the car and then drove home. We spoke of going to the authorities but… well, it would have been so embarrassing and also I suppose those men would just have denied it.

It was awful but… we were also both definitely turned on by it. By my having it done to me and by Alan having to watch it. By mutual consent we went to bed early that night and… well, we seemed to be doing it — having sex — almost the whole of the night.

In the morning, lying in bed, I said to Alan, ‘That really got you going, didn’t it: watching me being strapped like that.’ And he admitted that it had. And then I said, ‘You could do it as well if you liked.’ He looked a bit wide-eyed and I grabbed him and with my mouth close to his ear said, ‘You could get one of those straps and give me a going over if you liked. As long as it wasn’t too hard.’

And with a tremendous feeling of excitement we went into the nearby town and bought one. And we did it right away when we got back. Just put Samantha to bed and then right there in the middle of the afternoon re-enacted what had happened the day before. I took down my jeans and got over our kitchen table and Alan took my knickers down and strapped me. Then we had a really wild session in bed. It was fantastic. The best we’d ever had.

We did it — the strapping — again later that day and again the next day — and I suppose just about every day we were there. It was really fantastic. It had really opened up a whole new vista for us.

And when we got back from holiday it just took off from there. Alan bought a cane and we experimented with, you know, acting out different scenes, not just being strapped by those French farmers. We have quite a range of scenes now that we use. One of Alan’s favourites is to have me as a Sixth Form schoolgirl and he is the Headmaster and he canes me for some misdemeanour or other. I wear my old school uniform which I still have — and which, I’m proud to say, I can still get into.

Other ones? Oh, lots: a shopgirl being caned for having her hand in the till; a housewife caned by a burglar because she won’t say where her jewellery is; a woman driver who has a bump and gets strapped by the other driver… All kinds. We’re very imaginative, you see.

No, I’ve never been caned or strapped by anyone else apart from that start in France. Would I like to be? Well, I know Alan wouldn’t like me to be. Acting it out is one thing but he wouldn’t want any other man doing it to me. Not, you know, after the beginning. But me? Well, yes, I suppose I would quite like the real thing with someone else, as well. Depending, of course. And as I say it would have to be without Alan knowing. Why, are you making a proposition…? Would you like to see me in my school uniform? I look really sexy without a bra on… Hey, is all this being taped?’



Subject: Sally Seymour, aged 24. Model, unmarried. Shares a flat with another professional girl in London. Sally is a beautiful blonde, tall and with a full, very shapely figure which was shown to good advantage at the interview in a tight white trouser-suit. Sally was a friendly, confident girl, definitely not shy but not arrogant or aggressive either.

Interview with Sally Seymour: ‘In the modelling business you have to get used to all kinds of funny requests. I mean; men wanting to fuck you is just the beginning. CP? Yes, I’ve had a number of experiences, one or two of them good and one — my first — really good. I wouldn’t say I was really into it but if things are right it does turn me on.

I’ve thought about it: what seems to be the turn-on for me is being dominated, but when it has worked it has always been a kind of impersonal thing. I mean I haven’t wanted it from a boyfriend or a man I was going with. It has been an older man who can simply make me do what he wants, including using the cane on me — that sort of thing. My very first experience was like that and it really had a devastating effect on me. I hated it and loved it at the same time, if you know what I mean.

I was just 19 and had won a couple of beauty contests and as a result got a couple of modelling jobs. A glamour undies thing and a tasteful nude for a photo mag. It all gave me a certain amount of publicity resulting in a number of queries from various directions — not all of them welcome, as I expect you can imagine. At 19 I was pretty inexperienced and I didn’t have a proper agent so, you know…

But at least I was friendly with an older girl, someone who’d been through the mill a bit and knew what was what. She said I should go and see this man, he’d be able to help me a lot, but to be prepared for what he’d want.

I said, ‘What?’ and she said he’d want to cane me.

Well, being only 19 and completely inexperienced in that direction I simply, said, ‘No way!’ But she said to think about it; he could get me a lot of work and he was reliable — there would be nothing nasty happening. And also… I might find I liked it.

I didn’t respond — for some weeks at least. Some weeks in which I found I was only getting job offers of the kind I didn’t want. Just nude work of the more explicit variety, and other even less attractive offers. Finally I had another word with my friend, and the upshot was that I agreed to see this man.

I met him in a restaurant — a very expensive one. He was about 50, tall and distinguished-looking. He was also, my friend had told me, very well-off and used to getting what he wanted — and that included women. I was naturally very nervous. He greeted me in a charming way and sat me opposite him, then just stared at me which made me feel even worse. Finally he said I was very beautiful. He had seen my picture in that photo mag and he was very keen to see the rest of me for himself. He wanted me to come to his house where we could get better acquainted.

I was sort of mesmerised by him, by what he was saying — I mean I knew he meant he wanted me to undress for him. I don’t know if I actually said Yes but very soon we were in a taxi going to his house. In the taxi he repeated what my friend had said: that he had various contacts who could be very useful to me, and he would like to help me… as long as I was prepared to be ‘friendly’. I don’t know what I said.

In his house he took me to a room he called his ‘den’. A brightly-lit room, all white and pale green. White walls and thick white carpet, with green drapes and matching furniture — a sofa and armchair round a coffee table at one end of the room and a couch — a bed, in fact — at the other. On the wall were two pictures — both of women being caned.

He sat down in the armchair, but he didn’t invite me to sit down. Instead he said, ‘Well, are you interested?’

I suppose I nodded and then he said, ‘Good. In that case what I want is for you to take all your clothes off. So I can see that lovely body.’

And standing in front of him, a bit like a zombie, I did it. Started undressing as he sat there looking intently at me but saying nothing. My coat, my skirt, my blouse… shoes, tights, my slip… my bra… finally my knickers…

When I had finished and was nude he got up and came close, and then he started running his hands over me, saying things like ‘Delightful!’, ‘A perfect specimen!’ I just stood there shivering. Not because I was cold but just… excitement I suppose. Standing there nude and at his mercy — it was rather like being some sort of slave. My excitement must have been obvious: my nipples became hard and were sticking out, and I could feel myself getting all wet between my legs.

Still running his hands over me, he said, ‘Keep calm. I’m not going to make you have intercourse, nothing like that. But there’s something else I want to do.’ And then he said it. ‘Have you ever had the cane?’

That was it. I had been expecting it I suppose — what my friend had told me and also those two pictures on the wall. I shook my head.

And then he said, ‘In that case, my dear, I really think you should try it.’

I was just shaking like a leaf but I didn’t argue as he made me get down on my hands and knees on the carpet. Then gently but firmly he pushed my head down as well. Into that thick white carpet. I knelt there, ultra-conscious of my nudity, of my bare bottom offered up to him. It was, well, I suppose like I said, being the slave of some ancient king or something. Humiliating… and exciting. I knelt there… waiting…

When it came it just knocked the breath out of me. That first stinging swish of the cane squarely across my buttocks. It really hurt but it was also incredibly exciting. To be there like that — the pain welling up through me and just having to kneel there and take it. A second and a third came whistling down, and I got even more excited. I realised my rear was writhing around and it was not simply the pain but the excitement. A very sexual excitement…

As he carried on caning me it got worse — both the pain and the excitement. Finally I just couldn’t stand any more and I collapsed sobbing on the floor. I was in fact on the very verge of coming — of having an orgasm — and I would have done if he had caned me any more, but he stopped when I flopped down. Lying face-down on the carpet I heard him say, ‘That’s enough for the moment, young lady. What you need now is a good massage.’

He must have rung a bell or something because almost at once the door opened. I had got up into a sitting position on the floor and I saw it was two young women wearing sort of nurses uniforms, both Asian-looking. I found out later they were Thais and worked as servants in the house. He said to them, ‘I’d like you to give Miss Seymour a massage.’

The two girls said nothing, but smiled at each other and took me over to the couch. They didn’t seem surprised that I was naked or that my bottom must have been covered with red stripes. I was still trembling and shaking as they indicated that I was to lie on the bed, on my front.

I lay down and immediately two pairs of soft hands started running all over me. All over my still tingling body. It was relaxing but at the same time it continued the stimulation which I had just got from the cane. Especially as one hand almost from the start began dipping in between my legs…

After a short while they turned me over on my back and now, with Mr Merton looking on, they made no pretence that they were doing anything else except masturbating me: one girl working on my breasts and the other kneeling between my legs so that I couldn’t close them and working on my pussy. In no time at all I completed what had almost happened on the floor: I had a big multiple orgasm.

The girls let me recover for a bit, going back to a more conventional massaging, but only for a short while and then went back to what they’d done before — straightforward masturbation. I came again…

This went on for I don’t know how long. They must have given me six or seven orgasms. I had just no idea I could respond like that. It was the caning setting it up, of course, and then — well, what those two pairs of fiendish hands couldn’t do was nobody’s business. Finally Mr Merton, who had watched it all, told them to stop. By that time I was just an exhausted wreck. I heard one of the girls say, ‘She a very hot girl, Mr Merton.’ I think it was the only thing either of them said while they were in the room. Then they both went out.

Then he spoke to me for the first time since the girls had come in. He said, ‘I think another touch of the cane now, before you leave…’

He did it with me kneeling at the side of the bed: I don’t think I would have had the strength to support myself on my hands and knees as I had before. I think he may have given me six or so, but at this stage I really didn’t know what was happening.

Afterwards he helped me back into my clothes and said a taxi would take me back to my flat.

I think I spent all of the next 24 hours in bed — and not with my boyfriend! Just recovering from what had been an overwhelming experience. I didn’t in fact tell my boyfriend or anyone else. The girl who had persuaded me to go must have had a good idea what happened but I didn’t actually discuss it with her. She just asked if I was going to see him again and I said I didn’t know, which was true. I wasn’t sure I could take any more of it.

But I did see him again. I got a phone call from him about five days later. And by that time I had already received two offers of modelling jobs which otherwise I would simply not have got. Yes, I saw him again…

For two years, I suppose, I went round to his house whenever he wanted me. He always made me strip nude and he always caned me. Sometimes it was just him; sometimes he called in those two Thai girls to give me a workout on the bed. Sometimes he had them cane me. He never wanted to have it off with me. And I never told the boyfriend who I was going out with all that time anything about it.’



Subject: Janice Cooper, aged 22. Lives with her in-laws on a council estate in Bristol. Married to a building worker (Kevin, also 22), she works as a sales girl in a department store. Janice was an attractive blonde, petite and slim but shapely.

Interview with Janice Cooper: ‘Where should I start? When it first happened I suppose which was right after I got married. A very nasty shock indeed — at 21 and of course never having had the cane before. And then out of the blue to get it from your father-in-law…

But I’d better start before that and give you some background. We were both working-class families, Kevin’s and mine, but there the similarity ended — hence the shock when it happened. My parents had always been very easy-going with us — to tell the truth I suppose I was a bit spoilt and used to my mum doing everything for me. Whereas Kevin’s family — well, his father was definitely a strict disciplinarian. Spare the rod and spoil the child, that kind of thing. And there was no doubt that his children weren’t spoiled: not Kevin nor his two younger sisters.

Naturally I had known all this in general terms before we were married. Known that he was a disciplinarian but that was all, nothing specific. But now I was bound to know it all because we were going to have to live with them for at least a while as there was no prospect of us getting a place of our own. We still are living with them, as I told you. Anyway… well, it was just a real shock when it happened that first time.

It wasn’t me, the first time, it was the younger daughter. Both of their girls were still unmarried and living at home although at this time they were pretty much grown up — Liz was 18 and Susan 19. They were both pretty girls — or I should say young women really: both, you know, well-developed. But that didn’t seem to make any difference…

Anyway, this evening some sort of argument had developed between Liz and her mother. We were all there, in the lounge, except my father-in-law: then he unexpectedly came in. Liz stopped arguing at once but apparently not before he had heard her.

‘Cheeking your mother?’ he said. ‘That’s one thing we don’t allow in this house!’

And before my amazed eyes he went to a cupboard and took out this cane.

Liz went very red in the face and started to protest — mainly the fact that I was present. But he said, ‘Don’t worry about Janice. She’s one of the family now.’ And he just went ahead and caned her. Made her bend over the arm of a chair, pulled up her skirt and slip, and then caned her across the seat of her tight brief knickers. Six strokes. Then he told her to go up to her room.

That night in bed Kevin told me. Their father had caned the two girls ever since they were 16. According to him it was the only way to keep teenage girls in line and stop them running wild with boys, etc. They always got the cane if they were out later than an agreed time; and I had the evidence of my own eyes that this was true three days later. The elder girl, Susan, came back in late after being out with her boyfriend: 11.15 when she had said she would be back at 11.

She got the same treatment as her sister, bent over the arm of that same chair; except that this time he took her knickers down. Six of that cane across her bare backside. Kevin said afterwards that they normally got it with their knickers down but that other time, with me there for the first time, his father probably hadn’t taken them down because of that. Well, I can tell you it took my breath away just to watch… That cane splatting down on her bare bottom… leaving a bright red stripe each time… It shocked me… but I have to admit there was also a tingle of excitement, watching it.

Kevin himself apparently had been caned when he was younger, but his father had stopped doing it at about the same age that he started with the girls.

Anyway, that was the situation. That was the family I was now part of, but it just didn’t occur to me that I could be treated in the same way. If it had I suppose I would have made a bit more effort, although as I say I had been pretty well spoiled by my mum and I just wasn’t used to doing anything except please myself.

I didn’t have a job. I had gone through the motions of trying to get one though I didn’t have much in the way of qualifications, but I don’t suppose I tried very hard anyway. All I wanted to do was go to bed with Kevin, get up late, and after a leisurely breakfast wander down into town in my sharpest outfit to window-shop, or have a coffee. As all of Kevin’s family had jobs, including his mother, I suppose it was obvious my behaviour was going to cause trouble.

It happened about three weeks after Kevin and I moved in with them. Three weeks after getting back from our honeymoon and just about a week after I had first seen Liz being caned. It was the Monday morning. Kevin had gone off to work at his normal time, about 8 o’clock, and it was now 9.30 and I was thinking of getting up and getting some breakfast. At that time of the morning everyone else was out at work — but this day was different for the bedroom door suddenly opened and my father-in-law walked in.

He said he was going to be home all that week (which was news to me) as he had a week of his holidays still to come. And he thought it was going to be convenient because I obviously needed taking in hand.

And then his own hand came out from behind his back and I saw he was holding his cane.

Well, as I say it just came completely out of the blue — the thought that I could be treated the same as his daughters. I just stared goggle-eyed. ‘Get up!’ he said. ‘Any girl in this house who’s still in bed at half past nine gets a dose of the cane, and no questions asked!’

And that’s what I got. He yanked the bed covers back and pulled me out; then made me bend over, kneeling, at the side of the bed. I had on a shorty nightie which didn’t reach much further down than my waist, and I wasn’t wearing the panties which went with it, so my bottom was bare — ready and waiting. He gave me six: six cuts with that awful cane that really had me gasping for breath. The pain was really bad, it hurt like hell, but on top of that was the situation itself — to be kneeling there with my bottom bare while my father-in-law caned me.

When he’d finished he pulled me to my feet and made me look at him. He said I was to get dressed immediately and then there were all the breakfast things waiting downstairs to be washed up. And after that there was a lot of vacuuming which needed doing. He said he was going out to the shop. When he came back, in half an hour, all that washing-up had better be done and a good start made on the cleaning — otherwise he’d have my knickers down and give me six more.

He went out and, well, I just cried. The shock and pain of the caning as well as the fact that it was clear life was not going to be the same for me any more. But while I was crying I was also getting dressed. Because I knew by now my father-in-law was not a man to be trifled with, and if I didn’t want an immediate repeat dose of that cane…

I got the washing-up done and had at least started on the other job by the time he came back in. He checked what I’d done, then slapped me on the bottom and said, ‘That’s a bit more like it, Janice.’ Then he told me to make a pot of tea when I’d finished and bring it in the lounge because we were going to have a serious talk.

In the lounge, after I had poured the tea, he said, ‘Well, Janice, what are we going to do with you?’

I didn’t answer. Then he said, ‘If you want to live here you’re going to be treated the same as my girls. You’re hardly any older than them, anyway. You haven’t got a job but at least you’re going to have to pull your weight in the house. And if you don’t I shall just give you the cane. The same as them.’

I still didn’t say anything — there wasn’t much I could say. He said I could agree to this or I could go back home to my mother, it was up to me.

Well, I could hardly do that and reluctantly I mumbled that Yes, I agreed.

He said, ‘It’s your pride more than anything that hurts, isn’t it?’

And that was true of course. At 21 to be caned like that on my bare bottom, when no one had ever laid a finger on me before. I felt tears coming to my eyes. Tears of self-pity.

There was one thing else, though. And stuttering a bit, I said if I had to have it could he do it without the others knowing. Because the thought of the rest of the family knowing — or worse, watching — was just too much. He looked at me a bit owlishly and then said perhaps it could be arranged.

And so that was it. I said nothing to Kevin — it would have been too humiliating — and no one else said anything. But all of a sudden I was quite a changed person. All of a sudden I was helping my mother-in-law, and even asking her if there was anything I could do. And I also started looking more seriously for a job, although I wasn’t in fact able to get one for some months.

Of course I wasn’t perfect, the same way that Kevin’s sisters weren’t perfect, and I got the cane — once a week or more I suppose. But at least he arranged to do it with no one else watching — it was usually in his shed at the bottom of the garden. And no one else knew… or at least that’s what I thought…

But then, I suppose a month later, one night when we were in bed Kevin said something about the fact that I seemed a changed person. Then he laughed and said, ‘Of course, a sore bum works wonders!’ I suddenly felt a chill go down my spine.

I couldn’t leave it alone, of course, I had to find out what he meant and eventually he told me. A couple of days before that first time when his dad came into my bedroom, the three of them — Kevin and his mum and dad — had had a sort of conference. With me and my behaviour as the subject. Kevin’s mum had said it was obvious I was not going to take any notice of ‘our Kevin’, and Kevin’s dad was going to have to take some action. I don’t suppose he was reluctant to be told this. Kevin apparently had gone along with the idea. He anyway would bow to his parents’ decision and also I suppose probably felt I needed it anyway. And so the next day — that Monday morning…

Well, it was just a bombshell — to think that all that time Kevin and his mother had known what was going on. Had known that out in the garden shed I was having to bend over my father-in-law’s workbench, and was having my knickers pulled down, and getting that scalding cane on my bare behind. The only redeeming factor was that at least Kevin’s sisters apparently didn’t know.

But anyway, after the shock I just had to accept it. In fact we both of us, Kevin and I, had a good laugh and Kevin said, jokingly, that he’d better start doing it — caning me — as well now. I said ‘If you bloody well try it, darling, you’ll find it’s just a little bit more than you can handle!’ Because Kevin is not the man his father is. Not in that respect, at least.

After that? Well, more of the same. Kevin’s dad still ‘deals’ with me — in private. And actually I’m sure that suits him. Because the fact is he rather fancies me. And soon after it all started he began not only caning me but spanking me as well. Over his lap with my knickers down. He doesn’t do that to his daughters. And also I’m pretty sure he’s never told his wife that he does it to me.

Me? I like it. It turns me on being over his lap and having him spank my bare bum. I wriggle about and he gets a hard-on even though he’s my father-in-law. Caning turns me on too but it also hurts a lot more.’

The above four examples give some idea of the range and variety of adult CP which can be found in present day English life. Perhaps in a future issue of Janus I may be able to give some further examples from my work; possibly from my category Subject Unwilling, and also perhaps of Women Receiving CP From Other Women.