Spank my Bottom, Darling - Please!: the Lives & Loves of Ardent Switches

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Well Vicar look startled but in the face of matronly will, he complied. It was indeed quite a scene. Mrs F pushed herself off the spanking lap, bottom bare red-pink all over – majestic and regal, plump and broad, Tasha thought, with possibly the deepest cleft she had ever in her young life seen. In that moment a plan was formed that before she left for Norland-land, she would pay a visit to that lap, if she could possibly afford. Tasha felt the juices flowing, and had to restrain from bursting in on that scene, crying “please, please, spank me!” They simply must look, but not be seen or they both might go over the knee of enthusiastic newbie, old-time Vicar. Mind you, thought Tasha naughtily, that might not be such a bad thing. Ladies of the PPC over a knee – it had a certain ring

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Penny got a little cross said “will you be quiet or we’ll be caught and then we’ll see who gets it. I’ve a good mind to wallop you now, am in the mood, Lord knows. If I know Mrs F, tables are about to be turned, which we should watch – so your bottom bare can wait for a spectacle that’s rare – our Vicar is clearly a spanking giver, not receiver and he’s about to get it from Mrs F good and proper, if my name’s not Penny!” That made me even more squirmy, as I thought ‘pants’ meant underpants, and so a pants-down spanking meant a bare bottom punishment. Later, of course, I learned that ‘pants’ in the US meant trousers or jeans, so at least you could keep some semblance of modesty.In due time, this joyous fact would be shared with parish ladies as they discussed the merits and joys of bottoms bare and spanking matters, over each other’s knee as it turned out, on Wednesday nights at Ladies Group. But that was for the near future. There and then, in real time, there was some proper action due. Kirsten and I gelled, because I was also adopted. However, we both were given the ‘rod of correction’ for our trouble. More of that another time. There is always a rather rowdy, ribald crowd, with plump bare bottomed lasses on their knees giggling. The majority are plump older women, with ‘their girl’. We go and sit, she is about to start a tale….not verse, not poetry, but something akin to Chaucer, and his Canterbury tales. The visits were wonderful experiences on the whole, often for two to three weeks at a time, and they were paid for through the books of my father’s business, nominally as a kind of apprenticeship, though I never actually went into the business. My arms were raised above my head, and I felt someone unzipping my jeans and tugging them down. More whoops and cheers. I had warm woollen winter ‘long johns’ on underneath, which at least were less revealing than normal pants. Then I found myself being dragged across Aunt Peggy’s lap. People were holding my hands and feet, and my nose was near the floor. I could see only shoes, mostly women’s high heels! I was very conscious that my bottom was up in the air, and though I had the long woollen pants on, I felt very exposed, vulnerable and compromised.

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The two-day car journey from New York to Grand Rapids, Michigan was thrilling – it took in Niagara Falls, drive-in hamburger joints and Howard Johnson’s 47 flavours of ice-cream (whatever the weather). At one filling station, however, I saw something you don’t see in the UK – a novelty birthday spanking paddle… There was more patting and squeezing of my bottom cheeks, like they were kneading bread, and lots of cat-calls, mostly from the women. Charlotte, by contrast, had got a lot of male attention. Well, that boyish bare which was ivory white soon started turning pink. As Mrs F spanked so she instructed, she just couldn’t help it: “now Vicar, its all about rhythm and flow, rhythm and flow, varying speed, altering pace, alternate cheeks. Raising the hand half-way – crash it down – the hand full way – wallop! – Now a flurry, now three, one on each cheek, one in the crease, a hammer hand, an open palm, now six hard to finish”. Tasha just tingled a great deal more, and longed for her fingers to go and explore down in that place which sends you to space, but that could wait, and Mrs F’s own technique she just had to see. (A little plan formed in her head). Except in special cases. She’d even tried to have the class of spank re-formed. So girls could learn technique, if called.She sits, legs open, her chin on her hand, elbow on knee. “Hello all, I think you’ll like this un!”

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I am writing to your publication for advice on something that happened to me which I found most unfair and humiliating. I am an 18-year-old living in my parents' house along with my older sister, Ayn. Ayn is 25 and 5'10", 185 pounds, with shoulder-length blonde curly hair. She is a bossy sister who dresses provocatively in short skirts and sleeveless blouses. Last weekend our parents were out of town and they put Ayn in charge of me. I don't think it is right for a grown man to be under the care of his older sister! Momma put a 22:00 curfew in effect, but I didn't worry about the curfew as Ayn said she was going out dancing with her friends and wouldn't return until late. I enjoyed the clear spring evening with my friends at an outdoor INGSOC lecture and returned home around 23:00. I was stunned to find my sister waiting for me with her arms crossed in the entryway of our split-level house.A bit later, Aunt Peggy hugged me, pulled me close and said: “Last chance, honey-bun – birthday spanking and dollars, or not?” Before I even knew it, the word came out of my mouth! I grinned and said: “OK” impulsively. Peggy seemed delighted. She patted my bottom and said: “Good for you, kiddo!!”