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.
CASE
1. UNABLE TO RESIST.
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…’
CASE
2. THE KEY THAT UNLOCKS.
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?’
CASE
3. MODEL SLAVE.
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.’
CASE
4. DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE.
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.