{ASSTR 02} Caribbean Capers {Big Billie} (F/f spank nc, circ)

Caribbean Capers

A Sally Trubshawe Henderson Story in Three Parts

By Big Billie

© Big Billie 2005. Not to be distributed or sold for monetary 
gain.

Author's Statement: Big Billie is opposed to spanking and 
circumcision except for consenting adults. However, spanking 
and circumcision sexually excite him, so he writes about 
them.



Part 1: Miss Joan Johnson Asks for It

  I still vividly remember that trip to the West Indies. It 
was in 1965 when I was 22 years old. I was a newly qualified 
teacher and I was having some difficulty in finding a suitable 
full time job.

  It was then that I saw an advertisement, complete with box 
number, in 'The Teacher' magazine. It was in the name of a man 
called Johnson, and it offered a temporary post for one year 
in Barbados for a female governess. The successful applicant 
was being hired to teach Advanced Level History, Geography and 
French to Mr. Johnson's daughter.

  The interview was with Mr. Johnson in London, while he was 
there on one of his business trips. He seemed to like me and 
it went well. The pay was not very good, but it included 
travel expenses and board and lodging, and this, plus the 
added bonus of a year in a beautiful tropical paradise, was 
sufficient to get me on the jet to my Caribbean destination.

  On the evening of my arrival, there was a meeting. Mr. and 
Mrs. Johnson introduced me to my pupil, Joan. It was an 
experience that I found most unnerving. Joan was a lot bigger, 
physically, than I was. I am a petite brunette, about 5'3" 
tall. At that time, I was fit and sporty, with a background in 
ballet (at which I was a qualified instructor) and in 
gymnastics. Joan, however, must have been 5'10," or even, 
perhaps, 5'11" tall. Unlike me, she was big boned and buxom. 
At 17 years old she had the full-bodied figure of an older 
matron, except that her waist and tummy were nicely curved 
inwards and her neck was long, slender and graceful. I also 
noticed that Joan's hair was long, straight, thick and black 
and her cheeks a healthy shade of pink. Her eyes were 
stunning. The eyebrows, lashes and pupils were jet black, the 
eyeballs as white as alabaster, and the irises a deep and 
translucent blue. Joan's skin, for example on her neck, upper 
arms and bosom where it could best be observed, was sun-
tanned. This was to be expected as the mansion where she was 
living had a garden that stretched down to the beach. I was to 
learn later that, in places where it had not caught the sun 
such as on her breasts, buttocks, lower tummy and pussy, 
Joan's skin was a beautiful milky white. Joan's breasts were 
shapely, hemispherical and very well developed. I could see 
through her thin blouse that they had to be encased in a large 
and substantial bra that held them into a fetching pneumatic 
cleavage. My pupil was wearing thin shorts that were a little 
too small for her, and I could see that her legs, and 
particularly her bare thighs, were thick and muscular, and 
that her bottom was large, plump and meaty.

  All this, however, would have interested and stimulated, 
rather than disconcerted, me if I had not sensed from Joan's 
attitude that she disliked my presence in her home, and that 
she did not want me as her governess. I picked up this 
resentment partly from my observation of her sulky and hostile 
reaction to me, and partly from what her father said. 
Apparently, Joan had been withdrawn from her boarding school 
in England because of an attitude problem towards her teachers 
and her work.

  Now, during my teaching practice the previous year I had 
been placed in a large comprehensive school in London that had 
some serious discipline problems. At that time I was a mere 
rookie and I had not coped well. In fact, the bigger teenaged 
girls, in particular, had run me ragged, to my deep 
humiliation and embarrassment. I had seen this year in the 
tropics as a welcome break from all that hassle, and was 
annoyed that Joan's father had not been completely honest with 
me at interview in London.

 "From what you are now telling me, Mr. Johnson," I said 
testily, "I feel that I am unsuitable for this job. I am newly 
qualified, and I do not have either the experience or the 
authority to cope with a difficult and unwilling pupil." I was 
ready to fly back to Britain at my own cost, but at last Mr. 
and Mrs. Johnson persuaded me to stay. It was agreed that I 
would give the job a trial run for 6 weeks, after which time I 
could return home, at their expense, if I wanted to.

  What happened next amazed and transfixed me. At the end of 
our meeting, Mr. Johnson rounded on his daughter, and asked 
her to look him in the eye. "I have had enough of your 
disobedience and insolence towards your teachers, young lady," 
he said. "Why, Miss Trubshawe here was almost sent scurrying 
back to England at the mere report of your naughtiness." He 
then turned to me. "Sally," he said, "I am sorry that I misled 
you in London, but you were the best person I interviewed, and 
I badly wanted to get you here. I cannot undo my deviousness, 
but at least I can try to give you the authority you need to 
do the job." With that, he rose and walked over to a cupboard 
at the side of the room. Rooting inside it, he pulled out a 
large gentleman's plimsoll. "Here, take this," he said, "and 
keep it safe. And if madam here gives you any lip or cheek, 
then use it to slap her down. You have my full permission and 
authority to employ whatever programme of corporal punishment 
you feel is appropriate." He turned back to Joan. "Well, my 
girl, what do you think of that, then?" Joan was clearly 
shocked at this sudden and unexpected initiative, and her pink 
cheeks blushed a deeper shade of red. There followed a period 
of tense, embarrassed silence that seemed to go on forever. 
Then, just as the tension was beginning to get oppressive, 
Joan made her reply. "But I'm too big to be spanked" she 
blurted out in deep confusion and embarrassment. Her father 
gave a wry smile, shrugged his shoulders and left it at that. 
Meanwhile, I was stunned at Mr. Johnson's salacious proposal, 
and at Joan's sudden and unexpected use of the saucy and 
stimulating word "spanked." In the sultry evening air, beads 
of sweat stood out on my forehead, my mouth went as dry as 
desert sand, and my heart pounded fiercely against my rib 
cage.

  For the first few weeks things went quite well. Her father's 
words seemed to have had some effect on Joan, and although 
neither of us made any allusion to what he had said, his 
threat, and the authority he had given me, seemed to spur her 
on to scholarly efforts. I was still very nervous, however. 
For much of the time, Mr. Johnson was away on business, and he 
usually took his wife with him. Thus, I was left alone with 
Joan, with only Maggie, her old black nanny, and three black 
menservants in the house.

  Worse still, as time went on, Joan became lazy and 
unreliable in her work. Getting her down to breakfast at a 
reasonable hour, for example, got more and more difficult, 
despite Maggie's best efforts. Eventually, I decided to ask 
Maggie for her advice. She was clearly very fond of Joan, and 
was as worried as her parents were at the way she was 
squandering her education. "I don't think talking to her will 
do any good, missie," she told me. "I should lay down some 
rules. Then tell her what they are, and that if she does not 
keep them, you will use that slipper like Mr. Johnson told 
you." We had this conversation at 8.15 a.m. Joan should have 
been down to breakfast 15 minutes earlier, but did not appear 
for another 20. When she arrived I asked Maggie to stay with 
us while I lectured her. I was fed up with her insolence, I 
told her, and with her persistent lateness and lethargy. If 
there were any more lack of respect, unpunctuality or laziness 
I would use the authority that her father had given me and 
discipline her physically.

  This was the first time that I had mentioned corporal 
punishment to Joan. She blushed, partly in embarrassment and 
partly in anger that I should dare to bring it up, I thought. 
Then she blurted out that she did not intend to be spoken to 
like that, by me or by anyone else. There followed a tirade 
about how she had never wanted me as her tutor in the first 
place, how she had no intention of obeying my every beck and 
call, etc., etc. Then, calling me some choice and offensive 
names, she flounced off to her room.

  During Joan's tantrum, I sat there helplessly. In my view, 
things were going from bad to worse and there was nothing I 
could do about it. But then Maggie came to my aid. She pointed 
out that soon Joan would be going for her morning shower, and 
she said that, when she came out of the bathroom, a little 
reception party would be waiting for her. "You go into the 
study, missie," she said conspiratorially, "And take that big 
slipper with you." I did as I was told, and sat in the chair 
behind the big desk, slapping the plimsoll nervously against 
my left palm as I waited. It was, I noted, a size 10, very 
light and floppy, and extremely well worn, with a large, thin, 
smooth, flat rubber sole. Then I had a bright idea. I put the 
plimsoll in my brief case, clicked and strapped the case shut, 
and deposited it in the far corner of the room.

  Meanwhile, Joan had come out from her shower. As she was on 
her way back to her room she had a rude shock. Maggie, who 
acted as the _major domum_ when Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were 
away, had ordered the butler, the cook and the groom to seize 
her and to drag her to the study, which they did with some 
relish. Soon, she was standing before my desk, disoriented, 
dishevelled and angry.

 "You know why you are here," I said abruptly, trying to keep 
my words to a minimum to hide my nervousness. "You have two 
choices. You can submit willingly or we can use force. Shall I 
tell these gentlemen to go, or will they be needed?" There 
followed a long period of embarrassed silence, until at last 
Joan peevishly turned to the menservants. "Get out" she said 
abruptly and rudely. "And you too," she added to Maggie. "Oh 
no," I said, firmly, "I want Maggie to see this." I then 
paused, and, keeping up my stern disciplinarian act, I looked 
Joan straight in the eyes. It was an effort to conceal my fear 
and lack of confidence, but I managed it. She stared back 
defiantly and insolently for a while, but then averted her 
gaze and looked at the floor, her spirit shaken, but not, I 
felt, as yet subdued.

 "Right," I said sharply, and at my words Joan looked up at me 
again, this time with an uncertain and less confident gaze. 
"Take off your bath robe please." The victim seemed physically 
jolted by this suggestion and blushed a deep red. There was a 
very embarrassing silence that seemed to go on for hours. "But 
I've got nothing on underneath," Joan finally blurted out, and 
for the first time she sounded vulnerable. At this news my 
heart leapt into my mouth. This was exactly what I had been 
hoping for. I found the prospect of catching Joan "on the 
bare" both stimulating and satisfying in the extreme. If I had 
said anything my voice would have cracked, so I kept silent. I 
tried to face my adversary out with a nonchalant and slightly 
amused smile. After what seemed an age, but which was more 
likely about ten seconds, I motioned to Joan to comply with my 
order. By now, I could see that she was sweating profusely in 
the humidity of the tropical mid-morning heat, and was 
beginning to look trapped. It seemed to be slowly dawning on 
her that, although she was much bigger, and almost certainly 
physically stronger, than I was, I had on my side an amount of 
effective force that she could not match. I kept staring into 
Joan's translucent bright blue eyes. By now, my confidence was 
growing as Joan's waned, and I began to realise that, if I 
played my cards right, I could almost certainly emerge from 
this interesting and stimulating personality clash as the 
mistress - both of Joan, and of the situation. Eventually I 
added, "If I have to tell you again, madam, you will be 
sorry."

  Then, it actually happened. I watched intently as Joan 
slowly, reluctantly and petulantly undid the bow on the belt 
of her bathrobe. Soon, the belt was hanging loose and the robe 
fell open, revealing a stunning nude body. Then, looking 
flustered and embarrassed, Joan pulled the bathrobe backwards 
over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor in a heap.

  Wow, will I ever forget that moment! Suddenly, standing 
bare-naked before me, at the peak of her physical beauty and 
fitness, was one of the loveliest ladies that I have ever 
seen. She was so gorgeous, big, strapping and sexy that she 
might have been the Greek goddess, Juno, as depicted by Titian 
in his painting "the Judgement of Paris." But Joan was much 
more youthful and nubile than Juno. Juno, in ancient Greek 
mythology, was the wife of the greatest god, Zeus. She must 
therefore have been an older and more experienced lady with 
ample authority to avoid the embarrassment, indignity and 
stinging humiliation of getting her bare bottom smacked!

  Anyway, to return to Joan: from her long, swan-like neck, 
past her voluptuous breasts, large but youthfully pert, down 
to her trim, firm, inviting stomach and her broad but 
perfectly tapered waist, she was exquisite. Further down, the 
parts of her anatomy that I was more immediately concerned 
with for disciplinary purposes were equally appealing and even 
sexier. I could not see Joan's bottom for the moment, since 
she was facing me, but her thighs bulged gently and gracefully 
outwards, and her plump, hairy labial lips curved into her 
crotch at the tops of her thighs, where they were lost in a 
downwardly pointing triangular mass of thick pubic ringlets, 
black and curly. Then I noticed something else that I found 
very sexy. Joan's arms, neck, midriff, thighs and legs had 
been tanned and toasted by the sun to a beautiful golden 
brown. But the sexiest bits, namely her pneumatic breasts, her 
lower tummy and her crotch had been covered by her bikini and 
were, as described above, milk white. Finally, I noticed that, 
sprouting from underneath Joan's armpits, were two large, 
thick, luxurious and curly clumps of black hair that, together 
with her hirsute minge, formed a downwardly facing isosceles 
triangle of three dark, inviting fur balls. The total effect 
was stunning. Yet again, my resolution was shattered. Oh, God, 
I thought, what am I to do? I sat there in my chair behind the 
desk, and gazed intently at the naked lady before me. I do not 
know how long this went on, since I was so absorbed that I 
lost all track of time.

  My victim looked so stunning and so ravishing that I do not 
think that I could have gone through with my disciplinary 
exploit if I had not got mad. But, as I stared at my big bare 
pupil, I slowly began to feel the anger rise within me. At 
first, it was towards all those big cheeky girls at the London 
comprehensive where I had done my teaching practice. I am from 
the cathedral city of Chester, and they were far too smart, 
metropolitan and street-wise for me. Frankly, they really gave 
me the run around. Worse, I think that some of the boys had 
admired and fancied their young trainee teacher, and this had 
made the girls jealous. "Ouch!" I thought to myself as I 
recalled my humiliation. "Those young madams were almost 
criminally insolent. They showed me absolutely no mercy. And 
now here is another young madam trying it on as well. Well 
this one is not going to get away with it. I will tame her 
spirit and show her who is the boss. I will cool her courage. 
Right, madam, pride comes before a fall. Prepare to get 
yourself slapped down good and hard."

  With such thoughts as these I sat for a long while, eyeing 
up my prey and working up my courage. As I did so I had one of 
what were to be a number of very sexy thoughts. It was a very 
hot day, even by the standards of the West Indies, and I 
noticed again that the heat and humidity of the morning were 
building up sharply as the time approached noon. Joan, despite 
her nakedness and her recent cleansing and refreshing shower, 
was sweating ever more profusely, and was silently squirming. 
Her whole body was glowing. The two luxuriant clumps of hair 
protruding from beneath her armpits were damp and soggy. Her 
skin was moist, salty and glistening with perspiration, and 
beads of sweat stood out on her forehead and on the tops of 
her shoulders, from where they from time to time trickled down 
her face, neck and upper body. From the expression on her face 
and the way that she was breathing heavily I could see that my 
nubile pupil was feeling harassed and flustered. "Wow, lady!" 
I pondered, my imagination excitedly bursting into rhyming 
couplets:

With sexy remarks I'll make you wriggle
 All hot and bothered, what a giggle!
 Then with my pump I'll play the rotter
 I'll bother you more and make you hotter!

  Finally I spoke, as slowly and as authoritatively as I could 
given my racing heart. "Right, miss," I said. "Bring me your 
father's plimsoll, please. It is in my brief case over there." 
And I airily pointed to the corner of the room where I had 
just put my case. This cunt teasing little touch has now 
become one of my trademarks when I am slapping butt. It is not 
always logistically feasible, of course, but when it is I 
always rile and humiliate the victim by making her fetch and 
hand to me the implement for her own chastisement. On this 
occasion, however, I had my doubts that Joan would actually do 
it. At first, she stood her ground and glowered back at me, 
outraged and angry. But I steadily returned her stare. I tried 
to put a confident smirk of triumph on my face. But really I 
felt neither confident nor triumphant, but very nervous and 
unsure of myself. Yet again, however, my bluff worked. I 
watched entranced as Joan faced away from me. For the first 
time in my life (but, happily, not the last!) I caught an 
eyeful of her big bare white bottom as she turned it towards 
my desk, and I ogled it intently as Joan moved to do my 
bidding. She undid the clasp of the case, but then nervously 
botched her first attempts to undo the two short straps on 
each side of the lock. This was hardly surprising since I had 
buckled them as tightly as I could to cause her this very 
embarrassment. Eventually, however, fuming and blushing 
profusely, Joan succeeded in extracting the pump from the 
case. She then ungraciously plonked it down on the desk in 
front of me. "No," I said, stretching out my open right hand. 
"Give it to me. Gently. Onto my hand if you please." ["Soon," 
I thought to myself, "I will be giving it to _you_ my girl. 
But it won't be gently. And it will be onto a part of your 
anatomy that's a lot funnier, sexier, saucier, kinkier, more 
perverted, more intimate and more embarrassing than your 
hand!"]

  When the plimsoll was firmly in my grip, I gave Joan my next 
order. "You see that small red mat in the centre of the room," 
I said. "Please stand on it and face the window." By now I was 
beginning to enjoy myself.

 I now had my second clear, uninterrupted view of Joan's 
voluptuous derrière, and again the sight made me catch my 
breath sharply. Compared to my own trim posterior Joan's 
bottom seemed enormous. The backs of her thighs and her calves 
had been tanned a beautiful deep golden brown by the sun. But 
her bottom displayed a downwardly pointing equilateral 
triangle of white meat where Joan's bikini bottom had 
protected her more intimate bits from the sun's rays. The 
bottom point of this sexy triangle was lost in the backwardly 
sprouting bushy black hairs of the pussy meat. And what a 
bottom Joan's was! Her soft buttocks appeared to be held 
together by the suppleness of youth into two large, milk-white 
pear-shaped hemispheres, nubile and quivering. In my time it 
has given me great pleasure to have smacked the bare bottoms 
of a number of black ladies of Afro- and Afro-Caribbean ethnic 
origin. I have noticed that the buttocks of such beauties are 
tight and taut, so that the slipper almost seems to bounce 
back off them in a most pleasurable and enjoyable fashion. 
White ladies, however, such as Joan, bring their own 
disciplinary delights. In contrast to their black sisters, 
they seem to have softer, floppier and more vulnerable 
bottoms, into which the plimsoll bites nicely leaving 
beautiful sexy red indentations. These obviously show up 
better on white, rather than on dark, skin, but this is not 
the whole story. The really overexciting aspect is the way the 
nubile, fleshy meat of their bottoms shudders, wobbles and 
quivers to the stinging blows of the pump. At this moment in 
time, of course, I had all of these exquisite delights yet to 
taste, but I was still able to fantasise about them to the 
extent that I could already feel the wetness in my crotch, and 
my clitoris standing hard and engorged at the top outer edge 
of my pussy.

 "Now," I said. "Put your feet together, please, and touch 
your toes, keeping your legs straight." Slowly and 
reluctantly, Joan obeyed my instructions and bent forward to 
touch her toes. "OK," I added. "Please wait there for me until 
I am ready." For my part, I did not rush. For the moment I 
remained seated and began to admire this new rear view of my 
naked pupil. Wow! She was stunning! Soon my heart was pounding 
and my palms were sweating as I gazed, or, rather, leered, at 
the sexiest thing that I think I have ever seen. This was what 
I was later to come to refer to as Joan's plump, juicy pussy 
meat, that chunky, sexy, fleshy bit where her bum curved 
around to her pussy crack. Phwoarr, how did I keep from 
fainting as I gawped at that rear view of Joan's quim, at the 
two meaty labial lips, and at the thick, curly ball of black 
pubic hair that sprouted backwards from those lips in 
luxuriant profusion? I resolved there and then that it was 
that part of Joan's anatomy, the soft, sexy undercarriage of 
her bum where the meat was at it most plump and tender, that I 
would target for no less than six of my intended twelve slaps. 
That luxurious pussy hair, sprouting backwards in a rich 
clump, would be my slipper's target. Indeed, I thought, I 
would try to slap through it as if attempting to bring the 
slipper's sole into contact with the plump, hairy meat of the 
labial lips at the base of the _mons veneris_.

  Meanwhile, Joan was bending over obediently as per 
instructions. Her white buttocks looked big and vulnerable as 
they stood out in sharp contrast to her sunburnt back, thighs 
and calves. Yes, my girl, I thought to myself. That's a 
beautiful piece of raw, tender rump steak that you've got 
there. It's escaped a tanning from the sun, but I will see it 
well roasted by my slipper! Then, slowly, I rose from my seat 
and walked over to Joan, positioning myself to her left hand 
side at right angles to her big bare bottom. I then drew back 
my right arm, as my right hand firmly grasped the slipper. 
Yes, I thought, there seems to be ample room for a good, wide 
swing.


Part 2: Miss Joan Johnson Gets It – Ouch!

  For the next few minutes I delivered (to Joan's bottom 
rather than to her face) a stern, headmistressy lecture. In 
the course of this I stressed the need to show respect and 
obedience to teachers, the necessity of appropriate punishment 
for the disrespectful, and the duty of the young to submit to 
discipline justly enforced by their elders and betters. 
[Respect! Elders! What a pontificating madam I was! I was less 
than 5 years older than Joan!] I laid it on the line, and I 
really rubbed it in. She had nonchalantly and arrogantly 
assumed that she could treat me like dirt, and seemed to think 
that it was funny and of no consequence when she insulted me. 
But to me her insouciant contempt was not funny at all. It was 
a very serious offence. It undermined my professional role, 
and made it impossible for me to do my job. On a purely 
personal level, I added, I had a right to be treated with 
courtesy. Besides, I was a proud lady, and I liked my own way. 
So I was going to show her who was the boss, and pull her up 
short in her tracks. When I had finished with her, she too 
would no longer consider her insubordination either amusing or 
trivial. I then gave a résumé, which I had rehearsed to myself 
beforehand, of Joan's transgressions, particularly of her 
rudeness, her name-calling and other manifestations of her 
lack of respect, adding that she had asked for her comeuppance 
over and over again. She richly deserved it, and now she was 
going to get it. And this, I concluded, was only the first 
dose. There was plenty more where this came from, as she would 
soon be finding out. I was her governess and, from now on, I 
intended to govern her. And my governance would be fair but 
firm. If she did not show me proper respect, it would not be 
detentions or extra work. Big as she was, I would punish her 
like a naughty little girl and she would suffer the 
humiliation and the indignity of a bare-bottomed spanking. Her 
head, and her attitude to discipline, were both as hard as 
bone, and I could make no impression on them. But, as she 
would soon be finding out to her embarrassment and discomfort, 
her bare, unprotected bottom would prove softer, fleshier, 
vulnerable and much more impressionable! Throughout this 
harangue, Joan remained bent over, squirming, seething, 
indignant and angry, but, at the same time, submissive, 
compliant and now seemingly resigned to her fate. She did not 
even tell me to get on with it, although, in the 
circumstances, I suppose that this was understandable!

  Well, the time for the denouement had now arrived and I 
nervously took up my stance with my legs slightly apart, still 
positioned at ninety degrees to Joan's bare bottom. As the 
moment of truth loomed near, I was beset with the jitters yet 
again. The situation was so sexy that I thought at one point 
that I would swoon or melt into jelly. But, at last, I 
regained my composure. I even had a sexy idea for what to do 
next. I lined up the plimsoll onto the target area and pressed 
it to the bare meat. Then, with a sudden motion of my wrist, I 
flicked the slipper back and then sharply forward again, thus 
slapping the flat sole across the naked, exposed pussy meat of 
Joan's undercarriage. My intention was to address Joan's bare 
rump like a golfer addresses his ball, except that my movement 
was faster and sharper, and I carried through with my flick, 
rather than stopping it when it reached its target. I thus 
used the slipper rather like a horsewoman uses her riding 
crop, and the slap was just hard enough to be sharp and 
disciplinary, rather than playful. Joan's plump white cunt 
flesh wobbled invitingly from the force of the blow. "Aw!" 
exclaimed the victim, in a rueful, miffed tone. I then left 
the plimsoll in the position where it had landed while I 
contemplated my aim. Meanwhile the pussy hairs protruded 
saucily from around the rim of the sole (as, of course, they 
protruded even more saucily from around the rim of the quim, 
at that moment temporarily covered by the sole!) "Come on, my 
girl," I said. "Those legs are not straight enough." I then 
gave Joan another stinging little flick with the pump, right 
across the pussy hairs again, applying it this time slightly 
harder. Joan was clearly displeased at this. "Ouch!" she 
responded testily. Meanwhile I gently pushed her head down 
towards the floor. "No. Stretch," I added. "Go on, right down. 
No." (Flick, crack!) "Not good enough." I thus used the 
slipper to gee up my victim for the third time. This time I 
slapped it home right across the twat yet again, and just that 
little bit harder still, so that, as indicated, it landed 
right where the other two slaps had landed with a crack that 
was sexily and satisfyingly shrill and high pitched, and that 
left me in no doubt at all that I had hit the target flush and 
spot on. This third flick certainly had the required effect. 
Although the blow was nowhere near as hard as the ones to 
come, Joan was obviously quite determined not to take another 
one like that if she could avoid it. "Aw! That hurt!" she 
cried, and again she sounded both rueful and angry. But by now 
she had got the message, and she started sweating, straining 
and grunting to touch her toes in the required fashion. 
"That's still barely acceptable," I concluded, "But just this 
once I will let you off. Since this is the first time that you 
have taken the pump I will ascribe your failure to obey to 
inexperience and make a start. But keep stretching downwards 
and straining hard, madam. The slightest hint of any 
relaxation and you will catch it again, and harder!"

  Over the years these saucy little tail flicks with the pump 
before the spanking proper commences have become part of my 
stock in trade. They are a sexy and amusing piece of foreplay 
before the fun starts in earnest and I go on to really screw 
the victim! I usually apply from three to six of them, and I 
make each flick just a little bit harder than the previous 
one. I always make sure that these slaps land across the back 
of the pussy hairs, smack onto the twat against the plump 
nubile cunt meat, and that each slap lands absolutely flush 
and exactly on top of the one before it, so that the tingling 
builds up incrementally. And, of course, I flick the older and 
bigger girls (the nubile ones with meatier twats and pussy 
hair!) just that little bit more freely and often, and just 
that little bit harder. The slaps, at least the first two or 
three of them, do not, I suppose, really hurt all that much. 
But they carry an infuriating little sting and are a saucy 
prelude and reminder of just how sharp the following spanks 
will come. The girls hate them! For example, the big strapping 
16 and 17 year olds in 5C resent the 12 proper spanks that 
they normally get and seethe in anger when they have to take 
extra wallops, up to a total, as they see it, of between 15 
and 18. And wow, my goodness but it doesn't half slap them 
into line! If not by flick three, then almost invariably by 
flick six, even the most recalcitrant madam is puffing and 
panting and straining madly to comply with my orders! I thus 
always ensure that my victims' bottoms are well stretched when 
they take the pump in earnest, and that there is no 
possibility of the girls hardening their muscles and 
tightening their rumps against the blows that follow. Also, by 
the time the pussy meat has taken between three and six of 
these slaps from my large, flat slipper, an amusingly ample 
area of it is beautifully pink, tingly and tender - 
tenderised, you might say, like prime rump steak, in 
preparation for the roasting to come! Wow, how I love a soft, 
vulnerable target! Meanwhile, the victim is thinking, as I 
crack some merry quip such as "now we can begin," that if it 
tingles this much before I have even started, how much more 
will it sting by the time I have finished. Needless to say, to 
encourage such thoughts, I pause after I have administered my 
flicks to give the victim ample opportunity to ponder what is 
to come, and to allow her bottom plenty of time to shudder in 
anticipation of what is about to hit it. During this pregnant 
pause, I expect the victim to continue to stretch, strain and 
grunt in her efforts to bend over as far as she can. Any sign 
of relaxation and I give her another flick, quite a hard one 
this time to indicate that I am losing my patience with her. 
And if that does not work she takes the pump again, several 
times if necessary, until I am sure that she is striving hard 
enough. Then, if she is so foolish as to relax during her 
chastisement, she gets another, extra, sharp flick or two. 
Twelve is my record total for preparatory flicks. I applied 
them across the rump of a rebellious 17-year-old madam who at 
first flatly refused to do what I said. By slap 9 or so, 
however, I had broken her and then, to teach her a strict 
lesson, another 3 sharp cracks re-echoed around the room as I 
gave her another three hard flicks across the thin, tightly 
stretched gusset of her gym knickers, thus: "Right madam, now 
in future remember. (Flick 10!) Do (Flick 11!!) as you are 
told (Flick 12!!!). OK, that's better, now we can start." 
Then, after that, she got the usual 12 of the best, slapped 
home with just that little extra bit of spite and venom. Wow! 
From then on she was firmly resolved never to take another 24 
swats like that ever again. At subsequent spankings she always 
obeyed my instructions with great promptness and tremendous 
enthusiasm!

  But I digress; let me return to Joan. "Yes, my girl," I 
thought as I congratulated myself on my handiwork and admired 
her pink, tingling rump. "I bet that stung. But that was only 
the beginning. Now I'm really going to make your pubic 
ringlets fly. Your pussy meat will soon be wobbling and 
tingling a lot more than that!" I then took careful aim as I 
again gently pressed the sole of the slipper into the bare, 
pussy meat, now all pink and tingling, and repeated my golfer 
addressing the ball act. Next, I brought back my arm, bending 
my knees and keeping the slipper nice and low so that I could 
strike the inwardly sloping pubic meat flush with a slightly 
upward blow, right where I had just been flicking it, and 
where I had then pushed the slipper's sole to the pink, naked, 
tingly cunt flesh. This was my moment of triumph, and I 
savoured it for several seconds. As I did so, I felt another 
violent surge of anger and frustration well up inside me. I 
thought of how Joan had been systematically rude and 
disrespectful to me for the last two or three weeks, setting 
my feelings and my self esteem at naught. Who does this 
flipperty-gibbert think that she is, I thought. I'll give it 
to her! Big as she is, I'll cut her to size! No matter where 
it ends I am going to teach her a short, sharp lesson that she 
will never forget. I will make her wince and shudder to 
remember this day, even when she is an old lady. After a 
little while pondering such thoughts, I was seething with 
anger and determined to let Joan have it. I felt spiteful and 
malicious and I wanted revenge. "Right, madam," I thought in 
exultation and triumph, "It's show time! I will make you feel 
sorry for yourself! I will make you regret what you have done! 
I will make you rue the day that you ever dared to cross ME! I 
will tame you and slap you into line! I will punish you 
strictly and severely for your insolence! Take that!"

  I then brought round the pump, very smartly and firmly, onto 
Joan's plump tingly pink pussy meat. By now I was, as I have 
said, hopping mad at Joan. But, by a great effort of will, I 
still managed to control my anger. I was careful not to use 
every ounce of my strength, since I did not want to hurt Joan 
too badly. I was determined to humiliate her and to make her 
tingle like hell. But I wanted to sweat her, wind her up and 
get her hopping mad, not to break her or to reduce her to 
tears. Even so, the pump fairly whistled through the air. 
Fortunately, and more by luck than judgement, my aim was 
impeccable. I had never used corporal punishment on anyone 
before, and I was very green and inexperienced. But luckily my 
first blow landed absolutely flush, right slap across both 
bare buttocks, just above the backs of the thighs, with a 
loud, crisp, crack. As the blow landed, I also noticed that, 
as I had anticipated, Joan's tousle of black pussy hairs was 
blown and scattered every which way by the breeze from the 
pump, and the pink cunt meat quivered and wobbled in the most 
alluring and sexy fashion. The sharp crack that rang out as 
the slipper hit home, and the stimulating sight of Joan's 
flying pussy hairs and shuddering bum flesh, caused my 
fluttering heart to leap under my rib cage. But there was 
something else that I also found unbelievably sexy. Joan's 
quivering arse meat wobbled the sole of my plimsoll, and the 
wobbling was transmitted to the palm and fingers of my right 
hand as I gripped the pump around its heel. It was a delicious 
feeling! It almost felt as if I had slapped Joan with the flat 
of my hand. However, because I had not used my hand, but a gym 
pump, my palm and fingers were tingling a lot less, and Joan's 
bottom much, much more!

  I next gave a satisfied grin as I heard Joan gasp audibly. 
She was clearly shocked and taken aback by the force of the 
blow and she breathed in sharply through her teeth. "Yes, 
madam," I thought, "I may be green, but I'll redden you. Now 
I've got you on the hop I won't half make you bite your lip." 
Then my mind started racing with all sorts of sexy quips. "If 
you're rude, I'll slap you nude." "When you offend, you'll 
bare and bend." And so on.

  I was compos mentis enough, however, to pause before 
delivering my next slap. I took my time and waited for Joan's 
bottom to tingle. Soon I triumphed to see the sexy red imprint 
of my slipper in sharp outline, like a red coloured tattoo 
etched across the plumpest and sexiest parts of both buttocks, 
right where they were already pink and tingling from my three 
preparatory slaps. When she got married in a few years time, I 
mused, that was exactly where her husband (lucky man!) would 
be slamming her with his stiff and excited cock. Joan was a 
big, lusty girl, and she would enjoy that. But for the moment 
that part of her body which would later give her exquisite and 
voluptuous pleasure was being slammed hard not by a young 
man's cock but by my slipper, and her cunt flesh was taking 
the rap of a sexy and humiliating punishment. What a superb 
way to chastise a big, cocky teenager! She was of marriageable 
age, large, lusty, and almost certainly eager for sex. But 
instead of the delights of the marriage bed, she was taking 
this stinging, undignified and demeaning chastisement. She was 
being spanked like a naughty little girl (only MUCH harder!) 
right across the most adult, womanly, intimate and sexy part 
of her body (the "X" certificate bit). What a beautiful and 
poetic method of humbling her and bringing her to heel! She 
would surely shudder and wince years later as her husband 
rhythmically walloped her cunt meat with his cock to recall 
this earlier walloping, far more humiliating and painful yet, 
in a kinky kind of way, every bit as sexy. In fact, for me, as 
the excited observer and a keen aficionado of spanking, it was 
considerably sexier. Yet again, doggerel verses formed in my 
imagination. "It's not a cock that slams your cranny, it's a 
pump slapped hard across your fanny."

  Meanwhile, from the middle of the red weal across Joan's 
buttocks, the voluptuous curly black tousle of pussy hair 
still sprouted backwards from between her bum cheeks, having 
now reformed itself into a thick ball after its recent 
scattering. This too, I found unbelievably sexy. Those thick, 
bushy black hairs were the physical and biological proof of 
Joan's puberty, adulthood, and femininity, and they were 
blatantly, jauntily and indelicately sprouting from the very 
seat and centre of her sexuality. It stimulated me almost to 
orgasm to think how that fur-ball of pubic hair was about to 
be scattered again and again by my trusty pump, and of how the 
nubile cunt meat from which it sprung was about to be rapped, 
wrung, stung and reddened. My common sense told me that Joan 
was far too old, far too big, far too nubile, and far too sexy 
to suffer this stinging indignity. It was all too 
preposterously funny, absurdly droll, ludicrously amusing and 
ridiculously hilarious. In other words, it was the most 
exquisite and perfect comeuppance for her. Oh wow! This 
revenge of mine, I thought to myself, was very, very sweet. 
More sexy quips formed in my mind: "Yes, my bonny bird, just 
feel how I'll ruffle your tail feathers. I'll singe your minge 
for you and no mistake."

  Joan's sexy predicament struck me as being very, very funny. 
But she clearly thought that it was anything but a joke. The 
force of that first spank, and the loud, sharp crack that it 
made as it struck home, had clearly been a distinct and 
unexpected shock for her, and it made her hopping mad at me. 
Then, over the next four seconds or so, as her bum began to 
tingle and ring like a bell, she got even more infuriated. 
"Oh! Oh!" she muttered angrily, "That stings, that really, 
really stings. Oh, you bitch! You bastard! You absolute cow! 
How dare you do that to me! Who the hell do you think…?" 
Crack!

  While Joan was venting her spleen against me, I slowly and 
deliberately pulled back my arm again and took careful aim. 
Then, just as she was in the middle of her rantings, and just 
when the tingling from spank number 1 reached its crescendo, I 
brusquely and peremptorily cut across her comments. However, I 
said nothing. Instead, I let my slipper do the talking. Just 
at the very moment when her bum had fully felt slap number 
one, and she was at the height of her vexation and fury, I 
gave her another one! Having scored my first bull's eye, I 
found that I was able to hit home with the same accuracy a 
second time. The pump whistled through the air, and hit its 
target with a crack so sharp and high pitched that it sent a 
frisson down my spine. Again, the pussy hairs were scattered, 
the nubile meat of the bottom shuddered and quivered 
deliciously, and I was gratified to see that the second red 
mark overlapped more or less exactly with the first one. The 
force of this second blow temporarily nonplussed Joan. She 
abruptly ceased her diatribe against me in mid-sentence. 
Instead she grunted involuntarily and breathed in sharply. 
"Wow, lady," I thought, my mind careering off again into 
erotic thoughts, "This is just the beginning. Am I going to 
rattle your big meaty arse for you!"

  As the tingle from this second spank was incrementally added 
to that from the first, Joan took up again her sexy and 
rebellious verbals. "Oh, you cow, you complete cow! You 
absolute 24-carat bitch! Aw! Aw!! Aw!!! Oh, my God, that 
stings! That really, really stings! I'll get you for this, you 
bastard! I'll have you sacked for it! Wait till I tell daddy! 
I'll have you on the next plane back to London before your 
feet can touch the ground. I'll sort you, you bitch, just you 
see if I don't! ... (Etc.)...." Now, with this line of attack, 
dear reader, Joan hit me right on the raw. Despite my seeming 
self-confidence I was by no means sure that I was not 
overstepping the mark with my saucy disciplinary exploits. It 
seemed to me in the heat of the moment (and indeed for long 
afterwards) a distinct probability that Joan's father would be 
outraged if and when he heard the salacious details of her 
punishment. Despite the permission that he had given me to 
spank his daughter, surely he would consider this comeuppance 
of hers to be well over the top? I was beginning to enjoy my 
job in the West Indies, and I did not want to go home just 
yet. Yet if Joan complained loud enough to her dad that was 
exactly what I could see myself being forced to do. The 
thought miffed me, and made me even angrier with Joan than I 
had been before. "So you would tell tales on me, would you, 
madam?" I thought to myself. "You would get me sacked would 
you? How dare you threaten me! How dare you even suggest such 
a thing! I may never catch you bending again, but while my 
luck holds and I have your bare buttocks at my mercy I will 
take my chance to enforce a sharp and sexy revenge." Then, as 
my anger and frustration welled up to its peak, I again cut 
across Joan's diatribe against me in the sexiest and most 
effective fashion that I could think of. With more than a hint 
of malice and venom in my riposte, I hit her with a third hard 
spank. Crack!!

 "Ouch! Oh! You bitch! You cunning, vindictive vixen! Aw! Aw!! 
Aw!!! You may hold the whip hand now, you cow, but just you 
wait! Just you fucking well..." _Whack_!!! Again, it may have 
been rather rude and ill mannered of me, dear readers, but, at 
the height of Joan's ravings, I gave her another one. As I 
explain below, this fourth slap I aimed higher up Joan's 
bottom, onto white meat that had as yet remained unchastised. 
But, my goodness, I made her pay a sharp and sexy penalty for 
threatening me with the sack again, and also for that 
"fucking" of hers! Yes, I made her rue her indelicate and 
unladylike use of a 4-letter word! Wow! Did I give her 
something to rattle her arse and make her feel sorry for 
herself! That fourth spank was a beauty, and it left Joan in 
absolutely no doubt that, while I may have been initially 
amused by her insolence, her threats and her bad language were 
now beginning to annoy me, and I would tolerate them no 
longer. In short, it was time for the victim to shut up, or 
else! "Aaagh!" she cried. But then, at long last, she realised 
that, at least for the time being, I had her fast by the hairs 
of her well-developed and hirsute pussy, and that there was 
nothing that she could do about it. She therefore sensibly 
decided to sweat her temper, to stop threatening and swearing 
at me, and to suffer the rest of her stinging, undignified and 
humiliating comeuppance in angry but compliant submission.

  Now let me narrate a few more details of what was happening 
at Joan's rear end. The third slap I delivered to the same 
part of Joan's rump, onto its sexy undercarriage. But then, to 
give her some relief from that merciless trip hammering, I 
applied the next six slaps higher up, to those parts of the 
butt that until then had remained unchastised. I aimed ad lib 
at the plumpest and whitest bits, trying my best to spread the 
smacks as evenly as I could over the whole bottom, and to turn 
it a nice even shade of red. The problem was that Joan had a 
big bottom, and I only had 12 spanks to play with. But my 
trusty slipper, with its big, flat sole, was more than equal 
to the task. Swish, crack, sting, pause, tingle; swish, crack, 
sting, pause, tingle was the remorseless sequence as I 
continued to allow plenty of time for the bare bum to tingle 
between each slap. The fourth whack, the particularly sharp 
one, landed right across the middle of the rump, the meat of 
the seat, as you might say. Then I aimed above and below this 
central benchmark until the whole bottom was an even shade of 
red except for the nubile pussy meat on Joan's undercarriage, 
which was a deeper hue. I must say that it was a great help to 
me that the bottom was bare, since I could see exactly where 
to aim. Every time I struck the target, the crack of plimsoll 
against bare meat rang out sharply and sexily, and Joan gave 
little gasps and cries at the force of the blows.

  For the last three strokes, I returned again to the plump 
pussy meat, the epicentre of my assault. I was still 
determined that, by the time I was done, it would have taken 
in all a full six of the best. I also made sure that the 
punishment built up to a shattering and orgasmic climax. 
Swish, crack went the tenth slap, just a little bit harder 
than all of the previous nine except for number 4, and onto 
meat that by now, even after its short respite, must have been 
ringing like a bell, and really raw, sore and tender. 
Meanwhile Joan continued to let out sharp grunts and cries at 
every slap as her reddened bottom quivered and danced. Again I 
waited for Joan to feel the full sting of slap number ten. 
Then, even harder, I gave her slap eleven. "Oh!" she cried 
involuntarily. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" I looked down, and saw that she 
was wincing. "At last, madam," I thought, "I think I am 
beginning to get through to you." Then I girded up my loins 
for the final spank. Into slap number 12 I put just a little 
bit of extra spite, malice and venom, giving it almost all 
that I had, and completing a blistering finale to my act. The 
slipper whistled home for the last time (for the moment) and 
cracked sharply against the tender, reddened pussy meat. Joan 
gasped audibly and her bottom shuddered again. "Woooh, woooh, 
aaagh!" she murmured gently as her bum smarted at the full 
accumulated tingling and stinging of my 12 of the best.


Part 3: Aftermath

  Next I rapped out an order. "Stay where you are, young lady, 
and keep your fingers on your toes. If you move from position 
before I say so, you will regret it." I then returned to my 
seat behind the desk to view my triumph. Joan's big bare 
bottom was covered with the red weals from my slipper. Over 
most of the bum these had merged into each other to form a 
large, deep, even, red patch. The pussy meat, of which I had a 
perfect view as Joan bent over, as I had intended, was even 
redder than the rest of the target area. Then, below the 
bottom, the two broad, plump backs of the upper thighs gently 
bulged out in brown, sun-tanned contrast to the red meat and 
the black clump of pussy hair above them. "Wow," I thought. "I 
bet that stings."

  I was now sitting down directly opposite Joan, as she was 
facing and bending away from me. My eyes were at about the 
same level as her cunt meat. From this angle I noticed again 
something that made me breathe in sharply. Past and beyond her 
pubic ringlets Joan's two plump labial lips and her cunt slot 
between them were on full and prominent display as they hung 
invitingly and alluringly below and behind her crotch. It was 
exactly as if Joan were presenting her rump to a mate, 
inviting him to insert his stiffened cock beneath and between 
her hot, reddened buttocks and into her receptive pussy. 
"Wow!" I mused. "What a sharp and explosive shag that would 
be! Oh God! You are bending over there just asking for it, my 
girl! If I were a red bloodied male I would be very hard 
pressed to avoid taking and violating you right now. In the 
passionate heat of this moment it would be more than worth a 
long prison sentence for the rape and pillage of your 
virginity.

  I continued along this saucy, naughty line of speculation 
for quite a while, and began to put it into the context of the 
men in my own life.  So far there have been three of these, my 
father, my little brother John, and my husband Dave (whom at 
this stage, I had not met).  They are three very different 
characters, but, in the willie department, they have one thing 
in common.  They have all been circumcised.

  When I was a girl I remember vividly that my dad used to 
complain ruefully about his little operation.  Then, when John 
was old enough to understand what being circumcised meant, he 
started to join in with the whingeing, and they would really 
wind each other up about it.

  As a family we were always very open about sex, especially 
by the standards of the 1950s and early 60s.  My father made 
no attempt to hide his cock from my gaze.  When it was on 
display, therefore, I would, from an early age, stare at it 
and wonder what "being circumcised" actually meant.  As for 
John, he is two years younger than me, so I had constant 
viewings of his penis right from the word go.  In his case too 
I would wonder what his tool would look like if it had not 
taken the chop.

  I did not fully realise the awful truth until I was at 
college.  At the time it was the early 60s, and sexual 
morality were becoming less restrictive.  I succumbed to the 
greater climate of freedom, and at the age of 19 I lost my 
virginity to my then boyfriend.  My lover had not been 
circumcised and I was stunned by my first view of his flaccid 
cock.  The prick tip was, I noticed, entirely covered by a 
thick double fold of skin, which, he told me, was called the 
"foreskin."  The cock as a whole had a dramatically different 
appearance from my dad's.  I found this a subject of great 
interest, and throughout my relationship with my lover I 
handled and inspected his cock on every possible occasion - 
which was quite a few!  He told me that "circumcision" meant 
"the cutting off of the foreskin"!  And he showed me where the 
cut took place, and which skin was removed.  Wow, I thought.  
Then dad and John must have had the equivalent of about 15 
square inches of adult prepuce snipped off the end of their 
willies, or about as much skin as there is on the palm of a 
man's hand!  No wonder they are feeling cut up and sore about 
it!

  In contrast, my next boyfriend, like dad and John, had been 
circumcised.  This gave me the chance, for the first time in 
my life, to handle an adult circumcised cock and to inspect it 
carefully.  Again, I was stunned by the experience.  All 
around my friend's penis shaft was a circumcision scar.  With 
his permission, I measured this, and found that it was about 5 
inches long, even when his cock was flaccid.  As with all the 
other circumcisions I have seen, the operation had evidently 
been a messy job.  In one place there was a stitch-tunnel that 
had filled up with puss, and in another a disfiguring little 
skin flap.  The scar was ugly, livid, pitted and pockmarked, 
and the whole cock looked badly beaten up and battered.  My 
friend, like every other circumcised man I have known, was 
obsessed and infuriated by what he called the "assault and 
battery" inflicted on his cock.  He would complain loud and 
long to me about it, especially if I egged him on, and asked 
questions.

  From that point of time I decided that I liked the idea of 
men being circumcised.  I know that, like my love of smacking 
ladies' bottoms, this is kinky and perverted.  But I cannot 
help it.  It is just the way that I am.  Anyway, from then on, 
dad, John, and later Dave, have had to take a fair amount of 
flack, ribbing and stick from me on the question.  It is 
brilliant, really.  I love a wind up, and to wind them up 
really tight about having had their cocks chopped is as easy 
as falling off a log.

  Anyway, back to Joan.  As I sat there eyeing up her pussy 
and cunt slit, I began to think how much dad and John would 
enjoy the sight before my eyes.  In 1966 my dad was 57 years 
of age, and a very dirty old man.  He loved to eye up bikini-
clad ladies on summer beaches.  He would often make saucy and 
suggestive comments about young ladies of his acquaintance.  
Indeed, he would tell my mother confidentially and in private 
that, if he was not a married man, he would just love to slam 
dunk his cock into some of my girl friends.  Mum did not mind 
this too much. His fantasies helped to keep him sexually 
active, and she herself then reaped the rewards in bed. But 
she would sometimes attempt to shame him by telling me what he 
had said.  Anyway, I knew exactly what dad would be thinking 
if he were in my place at that moment.  I imagined him naked, 
with his great, stiff circumcised mutton dagger raised before 
him.  Wallop!  Joan, poor innocent virgin, would not know what 
had hit her, and very quickly her hymen would follow his 
foreskin into history!

  Then I thought of my little brother, John.  He was shy with 
ladies, but, like my dad, he was very interested in them.  
What, I wondered to myself, would he not give for a ten minute 
assault on Joan's vulnerable and unprotected pussy.  Wouldn't 
he just love to rub his circumcision scar up and down her 
pussy!  Whack!  Poke, rub, grunt, poke, rub, grunt, etc.  Joan 
would have been caught at a hopeless disadvantage, and within 
seconds her chastity would have been dead meat!  I suppose 
what helped to stimulate these saucy thoughts was that I was 
not getting it myself at that time.  I was sharply frustrated 
and my mind conjured up some very graphic fantasies!  Thus, 
for between five and ten minutes, I continued to stare 
entranced at Joan's bare, bending rump and hairy pussy while I 
gave my imagination full reign and felt my clitoris grow rock 
hard in my knickers.  

  At last, however, I snapped out of my trance and gave 
another order. "Right, now listen carefully. I want you to 
move you fingers from your toes and put your hands on top of 
your head, rising to stand upright as you do so. You will then 
stand still and await further instructions" Her spirit now 
tamed, at least temporarily, Joan silently and obediently 
complied. Now that she was standing up, I had an even better 
view of her gorgeous body: the long, straight black hair 
cascading down over her shoulder blades; the graceful inward 
curvature of her broad waist; the wide, outwardly sloping 
hips; the big, sexy red bottom with thick black pussy hair 
sprouting from underneath it; the broad meaty sun-tanned 
thighs; and the beautiful shapely brown calves. Whew! Again I 
stared enchanted, and again I know not for how long.

  Finally, I asked Joan to turn round and face me. As she did 
so, I noticed with satisfaction that, in her humiliation and 
embarrassment, Joan was blushing profusely so that the cheeks 
of her face were almost as red as the cheeks of her bottom. I 
then took my chance to get a last, lingering stare at Joan's 
ravishing front view. I remembered what my little brother, 
John, used to say about ladies, and about what turned him on. 
"Bums and tits," he would say. "Bums and tits, and eyes and 
thighs." So now I stared into Joan's translucent, bright blue 
eyes and then gazed down at her plump, pneumatic boobs. These 
were milky white apart from the two delicious red nipples in 
the middle of each breast, because, as I have said, they had 
been protected from the sun by Joan's bikini top. They stood 
out in contrast to the surrounding tanned meat on the upper 
bosom, arms and tummy. Then my eyes roved further down Joan's 
figure again, to admire the white triangle of flesh and the 
hairs around her pussy, and, below these, her plump, meaty 
upper thighs, which had been bronzed a beautiful shade of 
brown by the sun. "God!" I thought. "You're beautiful. The 
lucky devil who marries you will get infinitely more pleasure 
than any son of Adam deserves, or has any right to, in this 
imperfect and sinful world."

  Then I had another saucy thought.  God, I mused, I hope that 
your husband is circumcised.  No man in this world is worthy 
to enjoy beauty as stunning as yours perfectly, as nature 
intended and with his foreskin on.  His cock should have had 
fifteen square inches of nerves and sensitive tissue chopped 
off it.  It should have an ugly five-inch circumcision scar 
around its shaft.  And its prick tip should be exposed, 
calloused over and desensitised.  And even then the pleasure 
of that cock will be far too sharp, and far too exquisite."  
Thus I continued for a further few minutes with these and 
similar kinky and saucy fantasies.

  By now my anger had been successfully vented, and I began to 
think that I had perhaps used the slipper a little too freely 
on Joan. I think that if she had broken down and wept I would 
have been devastated with remorse. The spanking had jolted me 
into ecstasies of sexual pleasure, and the effect was like a 
drug. I was hooked, and I knew that I must have more fixes. I 
was certain that I would try to engineer more chances to smack 
Joan's bare bottom, and I felt guilty about it. What was so 
kinky and exciting was that I was being such a spiteful and 
vindictive bitch. I had vented my spleen on my victim out of 
pique, and not as a responsible teacher administering due and 
appropriate chastisement. Joan had riled me, and I had exacted 
my revenge with haughty malice. The appalling thing was that I 
was really proud and pleased with the way I had slapped her 
down. It had sexually excited me more fiercely than anything 
else I could remember, and I was shocked and puzzled at the 
sharpness of my pleasure. If, or, as I hoped, when, I smacked 
Joan's bare bottom again I vowed to try not to do it purely 
for my own perverted joy in mastering and dominating her. But 
I was only a petite little madam, and I had got a real kick 
out of bending this big strapping filly to my will. I had 
brought her so sharply and so pleasurably to heel that I 
decided to make myself no promises.

  Anyway, for the moment, I thought that the time had come to 
be more sympathetic to my charge. I smiled pleasantly. "OK," I 
said, in as cheerful and kindly a voice as I could muster. "We 
will talk about where we go from here at 11 o'clock. Put your 
bathrobe on, go back to your room and compose yourself." Joan 
turned away from me to pick up her bathrobe, presenting me 
with another view of her big red bottom. And then she did 
something that I found very sexy. It was now at least ten 
minutes since the last slap had landed on her bum, and Joan 
was no longer smarting and tingling from her punishment to any 
great extent. This, indeed, as I have noted elsewhere, is one 
of the great advantages of slipperings. They sting like hell 
at the time, in the most vexing and infuriating way. But, on 
the other hand, they do no lasting damage and the victim soon 
regains her composure. Joan had by now clearly done this. 
However, she still brought both hands off the top of her head 
and, very ruefully and lovingly, almost wistfully, she rubbed 
and massaged the pussy meat of both buttocks with her fingers. 
While she did this she took no thought of covering her 
nakedness. She continued slowly and in an exaggeratedly 
gingerly fashion for about twenty to twenty-five seconds, 
taking care that her bum was pointed towards me so that I got 
an excellent view. Indeed, Joan was clearly hamming it up. She 
was so provocative, almost raunchy, in her actions that I 
could only conclude that she was deliberately trying to turn 
me on - very successfully, I might add! Joan was clearly 
embarrassed, vexed and hopping mad at her sharp, saucy and 
humiliating chastisement. But, like me, she too seemed to find 
it sexy, salacious and amusing, even though the joke was on 
her.

  I noted with satisfaction that Joan came down five minutes 
early for our 11 o'clock tryst. She had changed into a pretty, 
flowery and very feminine summer frock. It was thin, low cut 
and close fitting around her waist so that it showed off the 
tops of her boobs, her cleavage and her curvy waistline very 
well. But then it emphasised her broad bottom and hips by 
flaring out beautifully over her thighs. It ended, cut off, 
just above the knees of her bare legs. I paid particular 
attention to Joan's mood, however, and was surprised to see 
that she seemed somewhat chirpy. For all her faults, I knew 
that this was an open and generous girl who would not hold 
grudges.

 "Ah, Joan," I said good-naturedly. "Hello again. Won't you 
take a seat?" "If it is all the same to you," she replied, not 
without a slight twinkle in her eye, "I think I would rather 
lean." And she stretched herself out, in an alluring pose, 
against the wall, taking a somewhat theatrical and exaggerated 
care that her bottom did not come into contact with it. 
"Well," I asked, looking squarely into her translucent, bright 
blue eyes. "What have you got to say for yourself, then?" She 
gazed back at me, without resentment or dislike. "Well," she 
said. Then she paused. "If our roles were reversed, I don't 
expect you would have much to say would you?" I smiled good-
naturedly. "In your dreams, lady," I thought to myself. 
"O.K.," she went on, in a tone that suggested that for her the 
incident was over, "I admit it. I damn well deserved it, 
didn't I?" Then she smiled and ruefully rubbed her bottom 
again through her thin dress and knickers, not in pain but for 
the undignified and comical effect, as if acknowledging, for 
the second time, that the joke was on her.

  I had thought out my next speech in advance, and I now 
proceeded to deliver it. I intended to continue with a 
programme of corporal punishment, I told her, but it was for 
her own good, and it would mainly be used as a threat, to 
encourage her to work. There would be a system of merit and 
demerit marks, and she would only get the slipper when she had 
amassed 12 demerits. At any time she could bring down her 
tally of demerits by undertaking extra studies, and each hour 
of overtime would earn her one merit mark (the equivalent, 
although I did not say it, of avoiding one spank.) Even when 
she reached 12 demerits, she would not be punished 
immediately, but I would negotiate with her a grace period 
during which, if she worked hard, she might hope to escape the 
rap. If, after this time, however, she ended up with more than 
twelve demerits, she would be disciplined, and the surplus 
demerits above 12 would be carried forward. Three times a 
year, before the Christmas, Easter and summer breaks, all 
demerits would be cancelled, although any merits would be 
carried forward. Merits would be awarded for good and 
conscientious work, and demerits for laziness, unpunctuality, 
etc. She would never get a demerit for trying her best, I 
assured her, for example in her weak subject, History, even if 
her performance was disappointing. Over and above this system 
of merits and demerits, however, there would be a short list 
of offences that carried an immediate retribution. These 
included deliberate and perverse disobedience and wilful lack 
of respect. I did not realise it at the time, but this was 
quite a significant speech I was making. I have from time to 
time used a similar system of discipline throughout my 
teaching career.

 "Well," I concluded, "Any questions?" Since her spanking Joan 
seemed to be in some awe of me and to accept my authority over 
her, at least in principle. I was surprised to see that she 
appeared to have no real quarrel with the gist of what I had 
said. But, naturally enough, one or two things concerned her. 
"O.K.," she said grudgingly, "I suppose I could do with 
something to keep me on my toes. But what punishment do I get 
if I don't come up to scratch." "One slap from the slipper for 
each of your 12 demerit marks." "And what will I be wearing at 
the time?" As she asked this, she gave a saucy little simper 
in anticipation of my answer. "Absolutely nothing. Your 
instructions are to report dressed only in your bathrobe, 
which you will be asked to remove before being chastised." 
When she heard this reply, Joan let out a sexy little giggle. 
But then she sobered up. She thought long and hard, during 
which time I gazed steadily into her stunning blue eyes. 
"Wow," she gasped. Then, "Hey! That's not fair! That would 
really tingle!" She tried to sound indignant. But I detected 
in her voice a tone of exaggerated outrage and amused mock 
horror, as if she found the idea comical and risqué. Then she 
paused. "Ouch!" she cried out gently. And she rubbed her 
bottom ruefully again with both hands through her clothing in 
remembrance and realisation of exactly what my words meant. 
"Phwoah! 12 of the best! With that enormous slipper! Across 
the bare bum! I'm too old for that! I'm far too big to be 
spanked! Oh, the humiliation! I would feel a complete fool! 
And I bet it wouldn't half sting! Oh, wow, wow, wow!" Again 
she sounded incensed and affronted, but at the same time 
fascinated, amused and sexually turned on. At any event, she 
did not seriously argue with me. She realised, I think, that I 
had the whip (or rather the plimsoll!) hand. She knew that I 
could call on the servants for support to enforce my regime 
physically if I had to. She thus resigned herself to the 
inevitable in a spirit of cheerfulness and acceptance. In my 
view, to strip and smack a big sexy 17-year-old lady was over-
stimulating to the brink of orgasm, and the very stuff of 
farce. What a hilarious and ridiculous plight for the victim! 
It was very saucy, very funny and a real turn on. I was 
stunned, however, as I had been earlier, that Joan seemed to 
agree with me, even though it was her who was being made to 
"bare and bend." The sexy joke was on her, but she did not 
seem to mind. Indeed, she seemed stimulated by the situation. 
Thus, far more easily than I had thought possible, the matter 
was settled, and we got on with our lessons.

  I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of my year in the West Indies. 
My incentive scheme worked well, and really kept Joan on her 
toes. I did not spank her all that often, but I still got a 
big kick out of saying "three demerits, my girl" or "lady, six 
demerits" since I knew that what I was really saying was 
"madam, take three/six slaps from the plimsoll across your 
bare bottom." I could, of course, have dished out penalty 
points like confetti and had myself a ball, if I had wanted 
to. Certainly, I tried to keep up the pressure on Joan by 
constantly pushing her to the 12 points threshold, and 
sometimes I did spank her, to remind her what it felt like and 
to keep her on her toes. But, on the other hand, I had grown 
fond of my charge. I often gave her a chance to redeem 
demerits by doing extra work, and I never again spanked her in 
vindictiveness or anger. Thus, sadly, with Joan (unlike with 
some of my other victims!) I never recaptured that fierce 
sexual ecstasy that I had felt the first time I chastised her.

  Even so, Joan took the rap a fair number of times, and on 
each occasion it gave me great pleasure. I maintained exactly 
the same successful format as employed in our first punishment 
session. First I warmed Joan's pussy meat with a few 
preparatory tail flicks. Then, during the spanking proper, the 
first and last three slaps were always applied, with great 
accuracy if I say so myself, to the sexy, intimate 
undercarriage of pussy meat adjacent to the pubes. And the 
middle six spanks were aimed ad lib over the rest of the bare 
bum, very briskly and sharply.

  The sessions were more relaxed now, since I knew that I was 
mistress of the situation, and of Joan, and that she would 
obediently comply with my orders. Thus the "kinky spiteful 
bitch tames rebellious madam" theme, which had turned me on so 
violently the first time I spanked Joan, was never, 
unfortunately, to reappear. I still got a big kick out of it 
all though, especially from the whackings that I dished out 
after Joan turned her eighteenth birthday in the February of 
the year after I arrived. Wow, but that was sexy! In the UK 
1965-6 was just before the age of majority was lowered to 18 
from 21. Today you would not be able to spank a young lady of 
18 to 21, unless, perhaps, you had her permission. If you 
spanked her against her will, you could easily face a charge 
of indecent assault. But 18 to 21 year old ladies (and their 
bottoms!) had no such protection in the mid-1960s, even in the 
UK, let alone in Barbados! Then they were still defined as 
children. Thus, in the case of Joan, I was _in loco parentis_, 
and I had full authority from her father to whack her. Unlike 
today, she had no right to refuse and no legal redress against 
her chastisement. Did I say that Joan was legally defined as a 
child? Some child! She was, of course, by the time of her 
eighteenth birthday and the slappings that followed it, a 
fully-grown lady, biologically mature and beautifully 
developed. The legal position that allowed me to slap her bare 
bottom as if she was a little girl was as ridiculous as it was 
sexy, amusing and kinky. I could not believe my luck.

  Alas, with the more recent legislation, I am unlikely to 
slap the bare bums of many more 18 to 21 year old girls, at 
least in the UK! Those were happy days that will never return 
and I often recall how I felt at the time. My main emotion, I 
think, was amusement at the ridiculous and hilarious spectacle 
of a big, fully-grown lady, a woman of marriageable age, 
having to bare her bottom, present it for chastisement, and 
get it smacked like a little child. Even funnier, she used to 
get it smacked very hard. I never again slapped Joan in anger. 
But I still laid on the pump very sharply and smartly. Indeed, 
after her eighteenth birthday I took to slapping her bottom 
just that little bit harder than before. She complained about 
this, and said that she was now too old to be spanked at all. 
Instead of her chastisement abating, however, it was being 
applied with renewed vigour. Secretly I saw her point. I was 
still applying those stinging and infuriating little tail 
flicks across the pussy meat before the spanking proper. Then, 
when I began to whack Joan in earnest, I was still allowing 
just enough time for her bum to tingle after each smack. And 
then there were the ten minutes of bending over and standing 
up, hands on head, afterwards, during which bum rubbing was 
verboten. During that time Joan would be stinging, tingling 
and smarting, and her naked body and her bare, well-smacked 
bum were exposed, in all their intimate splendour, to my 
enraptured gaze. Wow, I really let her have it, and I bet it 
didn't half sting! At her age, I could understand why she 
thought such treatment was inappropriate.

  Another sexy aspect of Joan's spankings was that she used to 
protest while I was chastising her, and also before and 
afterwards. I enjoyed this and, within reason, was fairly 
tolerant of it. We were living in intimate proximity to each 
other and it was impossible for me to maintain a disciplinary 
aloofness and hauteur. My official stance, however, was that 
Joan should take her chastisement in compliant silence, and 
that if she did not she was liable to be made to pay for her 
indiscretions.

  Joan used to get particularly infuriated by my preparatory 
tail flicks. For example, I would give her one. Smack! "Go 
on!" I would tell her. "Stretch and bend!" "Ouch!" Joan would 
yell indignantly. "That hurt! And I am stretching, you cow!" 
Next I would wait about four seconds, for Joan to fully feel 
the effects of my first flick. Then I would give her another 
one. Smack!! "That one was for insolence, young lady!" This 
would normally enforce a temporary period of silence. Then I 
would wait another four seconds before... Smack!!! "And that's 
for still not stretching! Go on! Down! You are beginning to 
annoy me!" "Aw! Aw! Aw! Oh, you bastard! You absolute 24-carat 
bitch!" Four-second wait, then the victim would catch it 
again, and harder: SMACK! This time I would not comment on my 
flick, since the reason for inflicting it was obvious.

  Next Joan would continue with her verbals into the spanking 
proper. For example, "Ouch! Too hard!" she would shout, and 
every time she did this I always made the next slap slightly 
harder still. A lot of her interjections, however, escaped 
without punishment as long as they seemed to me to be 
reasonable. "Aw! That tingles!" she would yell, and I was 
forced to concur that this was a fair comment! Sometimes Joan 
seemed to grudgingly admire my handiwork. "Aaagh! Oh, my God! 
That was a beauty!" she would cry, "Ouch! That really, really 
stings!" And, flattered, I would exact no extra retribution. 
Other stock condoned comments were as follows. "Wow! I'm too 
big for this!" "I'm 18, for God's sake! I'm too old!" "Oh, 
hell! I feel a complete fool!" "Ouch! Across the bare bum 
again! That's indecent that is!" "(Whack!) Ngh! This is 
hurting my dignity! (Pause. Whack!) Ngh! And other places!"

  Meanwhile I would sometimes add to my enjoyment by reciting 
little pre-composed doggerel verses to myself. Here are some 
examples. As you can see they are all pretty awful. "Pussy 
hairs all in a clump, take the pump across your rump, chump!" 
"Bum all bare, bending there, furry clump of pussy hair, 
slipper whistles through the air. Crack!" "Crack, crack, crack 
the slaps all go, wince and grunt it stings you so, where 
you'd never show your beau."

  Joan always made a parting shot after spank number 12, when 
she knew I could not immediately get her back. I usually 
accepted this with good grace, except that if she was too 
cheeky I might threaten her with three demerits unless she 
apologised. This usually pulled her back into line. Then, in 
the ten minutes of hands on head, her comments and complaints 
would continue. Again, unless she was especially cheeky, I 
would let her get on with it, listening to her backchat with 
interest. I always knew that, if she went too far, the threat 
to inflict three demerits would soon tame her. I think, on the 
whole, that it was probably these verbals that made me enjoy 
my chastisement of Joan more than most of my other 
disciplinary exploits. In those later years when I was a 
schoolteacher the girls always took their correction in 
silence, or else restricted their utterances to "Aws," "Ohs," 
"Ouches" and other involuntary expletives. Of course, I could 
have made Joan stop if I had wanted too. And she could have 
stopped herself at any time. But, despite the extra 
chastisement that her comments sometimes brought to her, she 
seemed to like to have her say. I think that, as for me, her 
salacious verbals gave her a sexy thrill.

  Naturally enough in the circumstances, Joan would continue 
to complain about my disciplinary code before her punishment 
commenced, and again when it was over. However, I pooh-poohed 
her objections, which she used to make most vociferously 
before she was due to take the rap. I always spanked her after 
her shower in the morning, and during breakfast she would 
complain bitterly about what was about to hit her. But I 
always answered her firmly, politely, and with a twinkle in my 
eye. She still had three years to go before she was an adult, 
I said, and that meant three more years of whackings. If I was 
still her tutor, and if she deserved it, I would not hesitate 
to chastise her, even on the eve of her 21st birthday. In any 
case, so what? It was no big deal. It was true that I was a 
bit brisk and free with the pump, but then, if the punishment 
was to be effective, I had to be. And, in any case, it was 
only a mild slippering, not a serious beating with a cane. I 
supposed it stung a bit, but then it was supposed to. It did 
not, I should imagine, tingle for long, and it did her no 
lasting injury or harm. It was true that I was laying it on a 
bit harder. But she was bigger now, and her bum could take it. 
Besides, her exams were closer, so there was even more need to 
keep her on her toes. The discipline was firm and strict, but 
it needed to be if it was to do her any good. She might not 
realise it now, but there would come a time, after she had 
passed her exams, when she would heartily thank me for 
smacking her bare bottom for her. Yes, when she was older, we 
would both joke and laugh at how stroppy and insolent she had 
been, and at how she had been so effectively and amusingly 
slapped into line.

  During these lively and interesting breakfast-time debates 
on the appropriateness of my disciplinary methods, Joan often 
tried another tack that I found very sexy. Even if you 
accepted, she would say, that her spankings were justified, 
that was still no excuse for whacking her on the bare, so 
hard, and so many times. At her age it was undignified to have 
to strip off. She should have the right to take it while 
wearing knickers and jeans. Even then, the slaps would really 
sting. They should therefore be applied less vigorously. And 
just one slap, in her view, would constitute an adequate 
punishment, or perhaps two or three if she had been very 
naughty. But twelve really hard ones across the bare bum was 
too much, and very demeaning.

  My answer to these arguments you can probably work out for 
yourselves. To be effective, I would say, the punishment had 
to sting and humiliate. It was like with speeding and parking 
tickets. Motoring fines had to be punitive and prohibitive if 
they were to slap the culprits into line. If they were set at 
levels that offenders thought were reasonable they would have 
little deterrent value. I was the appropriate person to 
determine her punishment, and I had a duty to make it sharper 
and more humiliating than she thought it ought to be. Then I 
would send Joan off to her shower, telling her to report to 
the study in her bathrobe by 9 a.m. sharp. I would then remind 
her, as she flounced off indignant and fuming, that she was 
going to get 12 of the best from the slipper across her bare 
bum. You can bet that I didn't half tease my victim, and that 
I never let her off the hook. And my comments had exactly the 
effect that I wanted them to have. They really wound Joan up 
and, to my great amusement, made her hopping mad.

 

 
 
