A Short Story by Cliff James

Many years ago, before I met George Harrison-Marks and became involved in the spanking scene — which eventually led me to meet and work with many wonderful girls — I, like so many others, regularly bought spanking magazines such as Janus, Februs, Kane, and others.

Some of the ladies who featured in these magazines became firm favourites of mine. One in particular stood out: a beautiful model known as Amber Scott. Although Amber is the inspiration behind this story, I have no desire to besmirch this gorgeous lady’s name in any way. Sadly, I never got to meet her in person, though I did speak to her on the phone once.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

I am not suggesting that the experience I am about to recount is typical of such encounters — merely that it really did happen. Only the name has been changed to protect the… er… innocent.

The first time I saw Tina Colts was when she graced the pages of a spanking magazine called Cherry Bright. From the moment I set eyes on her, I was entranced. Tina was the most gorgeous creature I had ever seen. Perhaps you’ve seen her too, appearing as ‘Susan’ in the features ‘Stimulating Susan’ and ‘Sister Susan’. To this day, I can still picture her bending over, her ball gown and nurse’s uniform raised around her waist, her virginal white bottom exposed to receive a spanking and the sharp application of a snapping cane.

Tina has platinum blonde hair that reaches down to her waist, vivid blue eyes, an hourglass figure, and a pair of bee-stung lips that pucker so sensually. I was in love. Do dreams come true? Sometimes, yes — for here I was, two years later, sitting in my car outside this most beautiful woman’s house with two hours of a private one-to-one spanking session ahead of me.

Up until a couple of weeks earlier, Tina had existed only in my dreams and the pages of my magazines. I would have sold my soul to the Devil for the chance to be with her. How I had longed to put this vision across my knees, gently raise her skirts, pull down her knickers, and touch her ever-so-beautiful behind. I wanted to stroke it, feel its cool softness, and spank it until it became as warm and pink as the blossom of a flowering cherry. I wanted to press my lips against those soft, tender buttocks and kiss them.

It happened after I attended my first live punishment event. Being unaccountably nervous, I spent a fair amount of time at the bar. The stars of the show were mingling with the regulars in the small audience, but I decided to stay put and wait for the action to begin.

“Give us a brandy, mate, will yer?” The voice was feminine, with a hint of Cockney that sounded as though it belonged to Samantha Fox.

“Shall I rub it in for you, or is it to drink?” the bartender replied.

“Cheeky sod!” the Samantha soundalike giggled.

My senses told me it couldn’t possibly be the real Samantha Fox, so I glanced toward the alluring voice and found myself staring into a pair of sparkling blue eyes I knew instantly.

“‘Allo, mate. Wanna buy a poor girl a drink then?” she asked, still giggling. “Go on, be a pal and buy me another so’s I don’t feel the cane on me bum when it’s my turn.”

I couldn’t believe it — it was her. Susan! My mind seemed to stop working as I realised I was staring.

“You all right, mate?” she laughed. “I was only joking. You don’t have to buy me a drink.”

“No, no,” I replied. “I’d love to. It’s just that… well, I’m sure I’ve seen you in…”

“Yeah, that’s right,” she cut in. “You have — in Cherry Bright and quite a few others.”

“Bartender,” I said loudly, “another brandy for the lady. Make it a double. Susan deserves it.”

“Susan?” she chuckled. “My name’s not Susan — I’m Tina. Tina Colts. Who’s this Susan then, my rival?” she said, chortling as she raised her glass and took a large, unladylike swig.

“No,” I quickly corrected. “I saw you in Cherry Bright. You were Susan — Susan Sinclair.”

“Is that what they called me? Would you believe I haven’t even seen those pictures? Weren’t they the ones of me in the nurse’s uniform and evening gown?”

“That’s right,” I replied. “Being spanked and caned. You looked wonderful. You made a lovely nurse.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked them. We aim to please.”

“Susan?” she chuckled. “My name’s not Susan — I’m Tina. Tina Cotts. Who’s this Susan then, my rival?” she said, chortling as she raised her glass and took a large, unladylike swig.

“No,” I quickly corrected. “I saw you in Cherry Bright. You were Susan — Susan Sinclair.”

“Is that what they called me?” Tina replied, genuinely surprised. “Would you believe I haven’t even seen those pictures? Weren’t they the ones of me in the nurse’s uniform and evening gown?”

“That’s right,” I said. “Being spanked and caned. You looked wonderful. You made a lovely nurse.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked them,” she said with a smile. “We aim to please.”

Tina sat herself down on a high bar stool and placed her hand on my knee. Her vivid blue eyes stared directly into mine. I tried to look away, but it was impossible. I noticed she was wearing faded blue denim jeans and a chunky woollen high-necked sweater. The way her breasts moved beneath the fabric made it clear she was braless.

“Do you like to spank girls’ bottoms?” Tina whispered in my ear.

I was completely taken aback by the direct question and became flustered, tongue-tied. “Er, well… yes,” I mumbled. My throat felt dry and my heart was pounding.

“Would you like to spank me?” she asked sensually, her voice dropping lower. “Spank my bare bottom until it glows, and then cane it — cane it really hard?”

The passionate, provocative way she emphasised the words really hard sent a shiver down my spine. I managed to nod.

Swiftly, Tina slipped a card out of her back pocket, placed it in my palm, closed my hand around it, and whispered, “Call me.”

With that, she stood up and left. I watched as her tight denim jeans hugged the movement of her buttocks. Once she had disappeared from sight, I opened my hand and studied the card:

Tina Cotts

Nude Glamour Model

Offers 1-to-1 Sessions

Tel: 07771-xxx-xxx

“Do you want to make an appointment with me?” she whispered.

“An appointment?” I parroted, unsure what she meant.

“For one-to-one!” Tina exclaimed. “For Christ’s sake, mate, are you on the same planet as me or am I talking bloody Cantonese? Look, let me spell it out in simple English. Do — you — want — to — come — and — spank — me — or — not? Well?”

“Yes, of course I do,” I croaked.
“Thank the Lord for that. Is Saturday week at two p.m. all right?”
“Er, well, yes.” Any time in the world would have been all right.
“Okay, I’ll see you then. Oh, it’ll be for two hours, yeah!”
“Er, yes,” I said, most happily. One hour, two hours, or five minutes — I couldn’t care less. I would actually be spanking the treasured bottom of my magical maiden.
“Good. What shall I wear for you?” Tina asked in a businesslike manner.
“Anything you choose,” I replied.
“Would you like me to wear the maid’s outfit for you? The one I wore at the spanking event?”
“Sure, that’ll be fine,” I assured her excitedly. She then gave me her address and directions.
“So that’s two hours with the maid’s outfit. Good. That’s two hundred pounds cash only, no cheques. See you soon then. Bye-eee!”

Two hundred pounds, I thought to myself. Tina Cotts would make a bloody good salesperson. She had cut me off before I could even reply. Still, what the hell — you only live once. If I took a cash advance on my Visa card, I’d hardly notice it.
So here I was, with a minute to go. I picked up my briefcase, stepped out of my Jaguar, and made my way to Tina’s front door. I pressed the doorbell and it rang loudly. The door opened slowly, as far as the safety chain would allow.

“Oh hi, come in,” Tina offered. “Sorry about the chain, but you can’t be too careful these days.”

“No, I quite agree,” I said, trying to make small talk to break the ice.

I was somewhat disappointed to see that Tina was wearing a flowery printed cotton dressing gown that reached almost to the floor.

“Would you like a drink before we start?” she asked.

“Yes please,” I replied nervously.

“Tea, coffee, or something alcoholic?”

“I’d love a whisky,” I said, “if that’s all right?”

“Sure,” she replied as she ushered me into what I assumed was her living room. It was tastefully decorated with light pink walls and two deep-pile handmade Chinese rugs on top of the parquet flooring.

“Make yourself comfy while I fetch your whisky,” she said in that captivating Cockney accent. When she returned, Tina had removed her dressing gown and was wearing only her maid’s uniform.

“Like what you see, do ya?” she chirped.

She was standing directly in front of me and played her part perfectly. For your benefit, dear reader, I will describe in detail exactly what young Tina was wearing at that moment, hoping the image you conjure matches the vision that stood before me.

“‘Like what you see, sir?’ Tina asks playfully as she reveals her skimpy maid outfit — moments before her bare bottom feels the consequences of her clumsiness.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Tina had tied her long platinum blonde hair back in a neat ponytail. Her short-sleeved black maid’s uniform was laced tightly at the bodice and barely covered the tops of her thighs. The supporting straps of her black suspenders were clearly visible, along with the lacy tops of her barely black stockings. Those stockings, with their deep seams running straight from top to heel, were finished with elegant black stilettos featuring four-and-a-half-inch gold heels. Around her waist she wore a crisp white apron trimmed with delicate lace, matched by a small white lace cap perched on her head.

Balancing precariously in her right hand was a silver serving tray holding my whisky — something I now needed more than ever. Tina took a step forward, curtseyed gracefully, and offered the tray to me.

“Your whisky, sir,” she said. She was every inch the perfect maid.

As she leaned further toward me, she deliberately spilled the drink.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir — how clumsy of me,” Tina exclaimed with mock horror. “You should punish me for being so careless, sir. Don’t you agree, sir?”

I took the glass from the tray and raised it to my lips, taking a large mouthful.

“I do agree with you, miss,” I said in my firmest voice. “But how do you suggest I punish you? Should I stop your privileges, or perhaps I should inform Mr Simmonds the butler and let him take the birch to your bare backside?”

“Oh no, sir!” Tina cried in feigned consternation. “Please, sir — not Mr Simmonds, sir! I would be so ashamed and embarrassed. And please don’t take away my privileges, sir. Oh please, sir, won’t you punish me yourself?”

I almost believed her performance — she was that convincing.

“Well,” I said heavily, “perhaps I could take the birch to you myself, young lady. I’m sure a good birching across your bare bottom would have quite an impact on you and greatly improve your serving skills.”
“Oh no, sir, not the birch, sir!” she pleaded. “I’ve had it once before and it’s terrible, sir. It hurts so much. Oh please don’t use the birch on me, sir!”

Tina turned her back to me and bent slightly forward. Her short dress rode up, revealing a pair of tiny black satin panties that left most of her full, round buttocks deliciously exposed.

“Do you think my bottom is nice, sir?” she asked seductively. “Don’t you think it would be a shame to use the birch on it? Why don’t I come and lie across your lap, sir? Then you can spank it for me. Spank it and feel how soft it is. Touch it… caress it… Spank me, sir. Oh please, sir.”

Before I could answer, Tina reached behind her, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers, and slowly inched them down. She kept her arms straight until the panties were tangled around her ankles, giving me a perfect, unobstructed view of her smooth, bare bottom and secret charms.

“What do you think, sir?” she asked provocatively, wiggling her hips slightly.

“I think your suggestion is very good,” I replied. “It would be a waste to use the birch on such a delicious bottom. However, I don’t think a simple hand spanking is enough of a punishment for your carelessness. I am willing to spank your bottom, Tina, but if I do, you will also receive six strokes of the cane.”

“Very well, sir,” she replied with a sulky little pout.

Tina stepped daintily out of her knickers, which had tangled around her shoes, and walked slowly towards me. I raised the glass to my lips and finished the drink as she leaned forward. As she settled her weight across my lap, she brought her lips close to my ear and whispered, “Thank you, sir. That will be fine.”

I could feel her warm breath against my skin, scented with mint. I turned my face toward hers, my lips instinctively seeking her mouth, but she suddenly pulled away.

“No, sir. No kissing,” she said firmly. “It’s not allowed, sir.”
Presenting herself properly across my lap, her large, voluptuous breasts hung heavily, defying gravity. I began to spank her, gently at first, alternating between each of her superb buttocks. I was mesmerised by the way they rippled and bounced with every smack. Although I started mildly, Tina gave a wonderful performance, gasping and moaning with each new slap. Gradually, as I increased the intensity, her little “oohs” and “aahs” grew louder and more desperate. It wasn’t long before the young miss was receiving a proper, serious spanking, my hand landing with loud, reverberating smacks on her bare bottom.

I must have spanked and slapped Tina’s bottom for a full fifteen minutes before I finally let her up. The moment I did, her hands flew back to cover her smarting rear.

“Blimey,” she said, rubbing her cheeks. “You certainly know how to make a girl’s bum warm, don’t you? And I’ve still got to be caned. Do you want to cane me now?”

“No,” I replied emphatically. “Before I cane you, I want you to bring me another drink. I need to see if you can serve efficiently. Otherwise, you’ll be coming straight back across my knees until you learn.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir,” Tina said, curtseying gracefully. “I shall try my best to please you, sir.”
She refilled my glass and this time offered it to me without spilling a single drop.
“Well done, Tina,” I congratulated her with a smile, although I was slightly annoyed that I no longer had an excuse to put her back over my knee. “Pass me my briefcase, would you? I have something to show you that you might find interesting.”

My maid for the day brought the briefcase over and placed it on the low marble-topped coffee table. Tina watched with wide-eyed fascination as I flipped back the catches and opened it, revealing the long, coiled, crook-handled cane inside. I removed it, uncoiled it, and laid it on the sofa beside me. I also took out a brown A4 envelope containing copies of the Cherry Bright magazines in which her pictures had appeared.

“This is what I thought might interest you,” I said gently.

Eagerly, Tina took the envelope and emptied the contents onto the table.

“You said you’d never seen these pictures before, so here they are,” I told her proudly, hoping she would be as pleased as I was to show them to her.
Tina picked up a copy of Cherry Bright on which she graced the cover.

“Blimey,” she said, surprised. “These are a few years old.” She flipped enthusiastically through the pages. “Cor, look at me! That was a beautiful evening gown. I wanted to keep it, but they said it had been hired. Wow, look at those stripes! Maggie caned me really hard, the cow. I had marks on my bum for at least a week, and sitting down was horrible for a couple of days. Do you think I look good here?” she asked.

“You look spectacular,” I replied reassuringly as Tina picked up another magazine. “But I think it’s now time for you to receive the rest of your correction. So if you’d stand up and move to the centre of the room, I’ll begin.”

Tina did as requested and moved forward.

“I want you to place the palms of your hands flat on the front of your legs, just above your knees,” I told her. “Then lean forward, keeping your legs straight and far enough apart for you to maintain your balance.”

Taking the cane from the table, I walked towards this pure vision of beauty. Beauty and the Beast, I thought wryly to myself. Tina was definitely the beauty — and I certainly felt like the beast. Flexing the cane, I approached her, admiring her beautiful body and cherishing every secret feminine curve. I took hold of the hem of her dress with my left hand and raised it clear of the cane’s target.

Then, raising the slender rattan high, I brought it down with what I considered a firm stroke. It landed with a pleasing thwack across the middle of Tina’s revealed buttocks.

“Ow!!” she screamed, whipping her head around to face me. Her hands frantically rubbed her bottom. “That really hurt!”

Although I was still a novice at caning feminine backsides, I knew I had not struck her anywhere near hard enough to warrant such a reaction. I could only assume she was playing the role of the naughty maid with great enthusiasm for my benefit and enjoyment.

She turned away again, pleading with me not to use the cane too hard. For the second stroke, I aimed lower on her buttocks and took careful aim. I wanted to make her bottom sting and grow tender, but I had no desire to cause her real pain. I adored her too much for that. The crook-handled rattan descended once more and landed exactly where I had intended — more by luck than judgement — with slightly less intensity than the first stroke.

“You fucking bastard!” Tina yelled, anger clear in her voice. “I told you the last stroke really fucking hurt and asked you not to cane me too hard!”
“But — I — I hardly touched you,” I replied, taken aback. “You know how much I adore you. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what all you types say,” she shot back. “‘I won’t hurt you, Tina. I’ll be gentle with you, Tina. I’ll only cane you lightly, just enough to make your bum pink, Tina.’ Then what do you do? WHAM! You cane me like I’m a rag doll with no feelings!”

“Hold on a minute,” I replied, now defensive and more than a little hurt. “Who was it who approached me at the live event and asked if I’d like to cane her bottom really hard — then slipped her business card into my hand? Anyway, I still have four more strokes to give you. If you want to be paid for this afternoon’s entertainment, I suggest you bend back over and let me finish.”

After a thorough hand spanking, the naughty blonde maid is now feeling the sharper sting of the wooden hairbrush. Bent obediently across her employer’s lap, her bottom glows brighter with every crisp smack — a clear lesson that a maid’s carelessness will not be tolerated.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Much to my surprise, Tina did exactly that. I suspect it was mainly because she didn’t want to lose the money, but I am an honourable man and would have paid her regardless.

I wanted only to make her bottom sting and grow tender, not to cause her unnecessary pain. I adored her too much for that.

Yet by now, to my greater surprise, I found myself feeling dejected. All my earlier enthusiasm for caning her had vanished. Tina had shown me her true colours. She was nothing like the perfect fantasy I had built up from her alluring images in the glossy magazines. My illusions had been irrevocably shattered. No longer would I be able to look at her pictures with the same sense of awe and longing.

I gave her the next three strokes without any real enthusiasm. They were so light that I doubt she even felt them.

“Come on then, ‘urry up wiv the last one, and then you can be on yer way,” she said impatiently.
Why, the cocky little…

“You stay exactly where you are, Miss!” I bellowed. “If you think you can con me out of my hard-earned money, you’d better think again!” With that, I cracked the cane firmly across her virtually unmarked bottom with every ounce of force I could muster.
THWACK!

“Bugger me!” Tina yelled. This time she had every right to scream. She jumped upright, her hands frantically rubbing her naked cheeks, which were now marked by one deep, angry crimson tramline.

“Get back over!” I commanded. “I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve — and what I should have done from the start. And don’t you dare move.”
I had read that line so many times in stories. Now, here I was, saying it myself.

“But you said only six, and I’ve had six! ‘Tain’t fair!” Tina complained.

By now, her thick Cockney accent was really beginning to grate on me.
“‘Tain’t fair?” I echoed. “I’ll tell you what ‘tain’t fair, my girl. It ‘tain’t fair that you expect me to pay two hundred pounds just to tickle that backside of yours. That’s what ‘tain’t fair. If you had accepted the cane the way I first gave it to you, this would already be over. You knew I wasn’t caning you hard. You knew I couldn’t — because I adored you — but you still tried to get away with doing less. Now I’m going to give you six proper strokes — the six of the best you really deserve.”

Slowly and deliberately, I delivered the remaining strokes across Tina’s bare, upturned bottom. Each one landed with a sharp, resounding crack, causing her to squeal in genuine pain and jerk her hips uncontrollably.

Finally, it was over. I had caned Tina in reality exactly as I had in my nightly dreams — yet the dream had been shattered.

I placed the cane on the marble-topped coffee table, reached for my wallet, and took out ten twenty-pound notes. Tina was standing upright now, unusually silent. I took her right hand, placed the money in her palm, and closed her fingers around it — just as she had done when she gave me her card.

Tina still looked gorgeous. She was still a vision of beauty in her black maid’s outfit. But the Tina (or Susan) I had known and loved in my fantasies was gone forever. How I wished I had never met her.

I picked up my briefcase and started towards the door.

“Look… I’m sorry… wait!” Tina called after me. “Don’t you want these?” She was referring to the cane and the magazines I had brought to show her.

“What for?” I replied. Could I ever hold the cane that had kissed her lovely bottom? Could I gaze at her nakedness in a magazine again without feeling betrayed? Never.

I still buy CP magazines and attend live spanking events and parties. I still have favourite models, of course, and the editors know my preferences. But the bottom line is (excuse the pun) — they are models. In future, I will admire, adore, and view them from afar. That way, I can always think of them with fondness and affection, as I’m sure many readers do with the models who appear in their favourite magazines and who give us so much pleasure in a world of fantasy.

A world which should stay just that — a fantasy.

Beautiful Amber Scott Features in The Video School For Schoolgirls