Dear Josie,
My girlfriend and I only discovered our mutual interest in spanking about a year ago. We came across your excellent magazine about three months ago but it has proved quite a revelation in our relationship. Until then, I think both of us felt we were rather odd. Not to say perverted at enjoying such a diversion to enhance our sex life. It came as a great relief to find we are not alone and I wondered if your readers might like to hear how we became aware of our interest.
I met my girlfriend Debbie about two years ago and was totally unaware that Debbie had any interest in being spanked. She is in fact a rather straight-laced sort of girl having been brought up by rather strict parents with whom she still lives. In spite of this she is, I discovered, unexpectedly passionate underneath and rather surprisingly we enjoyed a good, if rather unadventurous sex life from early on in our relationship.
I have always had a thing about smacking female bottoms although until now it had only amounted to reading the odd reports in the press and on one occasion when a previous girlfriend dared me to carry out a threat I had made. Because Debbie was the sort of girl I thought she was, I never attempted to introduce the subject into our relationship for fear of putting her off.
The moment of truth occurred whilst we were holiday last year. We had returned from the beach to the apartment we had rented and were both getting showered. Debbie was in a rather amorous mood but I was not feeling too bright after an afternoon in the sun and an over indulgence in the local red wine. Whilst I was in the shower she reached into the cubicle and switched the mixer tap to full cold making some comment about waking me up. She did this twice so on the third time her arm appeared round the shower curtain I shut off the water, shot out of the cubicle and grabbed her. She only had a towel wrapped around her which she let drop as I pulled her into the living room giggling at what she obviously imagined was her success in galvanising me into action. I suppose it must have been the very childishness of her behaviour that incited me (she is after all thirty-three years old) but I sat down on the couch and pulled her naked and wriggling face down across my lap. I then delivered half a dozen or so smart slaps across her bare bottom, which produced yelps of surprise and indignation.
As I helped her to her feet, I fully expected a tirade of abuse for subjecting her to this rather undignified bit of horseplay. Instead, Debbie just stood there looking a bit surprised and breathing heavily with her hands clasped to her bottom. I stood up and was just about to apologise for my actions when she grabbed my hand and practically dragged me into the bedroom. The sex that followed was like nothing I had ever had before with Debbie, she seemed utterly abandoned. Afterwards she seemed surprised at herself but made no comment about me spanking her and I decided not to mention it but would try to engineer a suitable repeat performance to see if her reaction had been just a fluke.
The following day we were sitting by the pool, Debbie had been trying to wind-me-up by flirting with the waiter at the poolside bar, behaviour not really in character with her. When she returned from getting yet another drink that had involved much giggling and touching I said very quietly ‘Much more of that young lady and I shall take you back to the flat and put you across my knee again!’ To my amazement her reaction was to roll her eyes and say ‘Ooo yes please,’ adding, “Daddy” which she knows annoys me as I am some seven years her senior.
I did not say anything but stood up and taking hold of her upper arm began to march her towards the apartment hoping that the rapidly growing erection in my swimming trunks was not too obvious to our fellow guests. We got a few odd glances, as I must have looked for all the world like an irate father with a naughty child as I propelled Debbie away from the pool.
Once in the flat I told her to take of her swimming costume. She gave me a startled look but then to my great surprise shrugged her shoulders and hooked her thumbs under the shoulder straps of the black one-piece swimsuit. In a single movement she peeled it down, stepped out of it and stood there in all her naked glory with an expectant grin on her face. I was a little taken aback at her wantonness but in as masterful manner as I could muster I took her by the arm again and led her into the bedroom.
There was a stool by the dressing table and I sat down and pulled her over my lap. She made no protest other than to beg me not to smack her too hard; this in fact was the only thing she had said since leaving the pool. This time instead of a quick flurry of slaps I spanked rather more slowly savouring the moment and the sight of Debbie’s delectable upturned rear. She gave little gasps and squeals as each slap landed but made no attempt to struggle or protect her bottom. I gradually increased the force of my slaps until at last she gasped – No! No! With some conviction and I judged any more would be pushing my luck. When I let her up she was all over me like a woman possessed. As I stood up she dragged my trunks down and wrapped herself around me and we fell onto the bed where Debbie seemed to lose all her inhibitions.
After all the excitement was over we had a shower and returned to the pool where I asked her outright if my spanking her had been the reason for her uninhibited response. With some reluctance, she agreed it had turned her on but she had no idea why. She said she had once been threatened with the slipper by her father as a teenager but never actually punished in this way. She wondered aloud if that what she had felt made her some kind of pervert. When I admitted my own interest it seemed to reassure her and I pointed out a good many others indulged in equally unusual types of foreplay. I asked her if she wanted to experiment further to which she replied ‘If it gets those sorts of results, yes please!
Regrettably, our next attempt at spanking was a complete disaster. There was no preamble, I just sat in the end of the bed, Debbie draped herself over my knees and I smacked her bottom. Result. Zilch! And we realised that for her at least it was not just the simple fact of being spanked that turned her on. After that, Debbie made certain she always provoked me in some way and I would threaten several times before dealing with her. I often wonder what the people next door made of the squeals and slapping noises that often emanated from our flat during that fortnight.
I think both of us were worried that when we returned home we might feel too inhibited to continue with our spanking games, but happily this has not been the case. We gradually developed our own little preferences and our relationship grew much more open and exciting as a result. Debbie began to dress slightly differently; often buying clothes she knew would accentuate her bottom. She also brought some rather more glamorous underwear when she realised that yours truly enjoyed sliding a pair of lacy briefs or French knickers down prior to administering a spanking.
In my new masterful role I took the opportunity to ban her wearing tights. Even she admitted wearing stockings and suspenders made her feel that much more wicked and agreed that with her knickers down they framed the target area so to speak in a most erotic way. She also realised why I used to like seeing her dressed to go riding in skin tight cream jodhpurs.
I have now invited Debbie to put down some of her own thoughts on the subject.
Hi Josie, John has persuaded me to put my point of view and I apologise in advance for my lack of literary ability.
If anybody had told me two years ago I would get my biggest climaxes after being put across a male lap and spanked on my bare bottom I would have fallen about laughing or more probably been deeply shocked. As John has already mentioned until that evening on holiday I had never been smacked in my life. I remember the incident with my father and the threat of the slipper. It happened during a family day out when I was being particularly obnoxious as only a teenager girl can be. He finally ran out of patience with me when I called mum a stupid cow. Gripping me by my shoulders he said very slowly and deliberately “When we get home young lady I am going to take a slipper to your backside.” My father is normally a rather mild mannered man so I was quite alarmed and fully assumed he would carry out his threat. When we got home I was sent to my room and told to get ready for bed. For two hours I waited fearfully in my pyjamas and dressing gown for dad to come up and thrash me. I was rather relieved when eventually mum called me down for some cocoa. No mention was ever made of the slipper then or later and to this day, I do not really know whether I subconsciously wanted my father to punish me. What I do know is it was the first “game” I suggested to John. It was also the first time John used anything but his hand on my bottom and I quickly discovered what an effective form of punishment implement it is.
Up until that point I would just give John a bit of cheek or provoke him in some way with the inevitable result. When I suggested the re-enactment of my teenage tantrums, he was delighted.
The next time we went out (to visit a stately home), I really played up, I was rude, petulant and spoilt. John took me to one side and uttered the magic words as with me still complaining we strolled in the grounds. During the drive home I was nearly wetting myself with anticipation and John did a very good stony face father act. As a bonus my parents were away for the weekend so I could actually be punished in my room exactly as I had expected eighteen years ago.
I undressed, put on a pair of brushed cotton pyjamas and a towelling bathrobe then sat nervously on my bed.
It seemed an age before I heard John on the stairs. Then suddenly there he was clutching in his right hand one of his large leather-soled slippers. He told me to stand up and remove the bathrobe, which I dutifully did. Taking my arm he said, “This is going to be a lesson you won’t forget for a long time Deborah”, (he was right).
He sat down on the bed and pulled me over his knees. I felt my pyjama bottoms being pulled down to my knees and tensed in anticipation. Looking sideways I could see us in the mirrored doors of my wardrobe, it was quite interesting as I naturally had never seen the picture I make “in position” before. Then the slipper landed. Wow! Did I jump; they must have heard my yelp of surprise in the next street. John obviously thought this was just me being a bit over enthusiastic (I always make lots of noise) and spanked on. He had not I suppose considered the fact that unlike his hand there was no feedback as to how much pain he was inflicting.
‘Not so hard,’ I gasped and to my relief, he eased up a trifle. Nevertheless after what I suppose must have been at least a dozen real stingers I was forced to yell “pax” which is our mutually agreed code to stop. I’d never had to do it before and I was glad John respected it and let me jump to my feet. My bottom was a bonfire and in the mirror I could see it was a deep red. I dashed to the bathroom, quickly soaked a flannel in cold water and spread it over my throbbing rear. By now, John was peering anxiously through the door and I said, “Come back in five minutes and be ready to give me the fucking of my life”. In spite of the pain I realised I had been close to a climax over John’s lap and as my bottom recovered the heat was building somewhere else. Dutifully after five minutes John returned and found me legs apart on all fours on the bed. “Do it! Do it!” I begged. To my surprise another stinging slap landed on my poor behind and then another. ‘That,’ said John is for using filthy language. Then I felt him enter me and the rest as they say is history.
Since then we have developed various little games but if my parent’s house is free, we repeat my “spoiled brat”, scenario and I can now take a really sound slippering. We also have “what might have been” when I am treated like the naughty girl I obviously was. Since buying your magazine, I have been introduced to a whippy length of green bamboo cut from a clump in my parent’s garden. I have only had it with the protection of my jeans or jodhpurs so far and that stings quite enough. For this I am made to bend over a huge old-fashioned barrel topped steamer trunk in the spare room. The first time I was caned I forgot how long the marks last and the next day got some funny looks when I was trying on clothes in the communal changing room of a large store. Glancing over my shoulder my partially bare bottom cheeks still clearly bore four angry stripes, did I blush?
I won’t rattle on anymore but return you to John.
And to think she said she could not think if what to write. Well that’s about enough I think other than to say we both think the magazine is terrific and look forward to the next issue.
John & Debbie,
Henley on Thames,
Berks.
Dear Debbie & John,
As you didn’t give your address would you please contact us. We would very much like to hear from you again.
For the record, all correspondence is treated as strictly confidential. We never disclose addresses nor do we forward them to any other parties.
