OBB — Letter from Janus 6.03

From Janus 6.03

CELEBRITIES TO FANTASISE OVER

For every CP enthusiast who has the chance of spanking a pretty girl or raising red-hot weals across a shapely feminine rear with a cane, there must be many who can enjoy these pleasures only in fantasy. Yet a vivid imagination is not to be despised.

It’s a long time, alas, since I last laid an apprehensive young lady across my knees and lowered her knickers to expose her tender white bottom for a spanking. But I still live a rich fantasy life.

Some of my imaginary spankees come from everyday life. In my work I meet many attractive young typists and female clerks, who would be scarlet with embarrassment and indignation if they realised what undignified and painful chastisements I mentally inflict upon them. The long-legged, nubile blonde schoolgirl I see at the bus-stop little knows how often she has, in my fantasy world, squealed and sobbed and writhed across my lap while I spank her very soundly with the back of a hairbrush or a slipper. And there’s a certain lady doctor, beautiful but rather too haughty and superior. Regularly, in my imagination, she bends over her own desk, her knickers round her ankles, blubbering out abject pleas for mercy as she learns a stinging, scorching lesson in humility from a thick, supple leather tawse cracking down again and again upon her luscious backside.

For even more attractive spankees I look back with nostalgia to the golden days of the cinema. What a wonderful assortment of spankable femininity appeared on our screens twenty to thirty years ago. Those two delightful little dancers Mitzi Gaynor and Vera Allen, for example. I never watched either of them without wanting to take her across my knee and smack her wriggling bottom until it was a bright burning red.

Mitzi Gaynor

Vera Allen

Lovely, lively Ann Miller — how her splendid legs would have waved and kicked as a leather-covered paddle whacked her bare rump.

Ann Miller

The dignified, rather prim Greer Garson would have blushed scarlet as she unwillingly raised her skirt and took down her knickers before bending over for a scorching dose of the martinet across her wincing rear.

Greer Garson

When Kathryn Grayson was spanked by Howard Keel in Kiss Me Kate, she was so well protected by ample skirts that she probably hardly felt it. Just imagine her, though, in the same position without even the flimsiest of panties to protect her tender posterior from a heavy masculine hand.

Kathryn Grayson

Who else? Dainty, petite little June Allyson would have fitted across my knee as neatly as a naughty child — and would have wept like one after having her tender little bottom soundly slippered for ten minutes.

June Allyson

At the other extreme, Ingrid Bergman, the big, bonny heroine of Joan of Arc might have proved far from heroic if up-ended over a whipping bench for a dozen strokes of the birch on her splendid Scandinavian seat.

Ingrid Bergman

Then there’s Liz Taylor not today’s plump middle-aged Liz — but the shapely, firm-fleshed twenty-year-old. Think of her held down across a table, tears of pain and humiliation pouring down her lovely face as she ignominiously displays her bare, burning seat to an appreciative audience, including all her dearest enemies. Hear her yelp in anguish as a sixth stroke of the cane lashes across the most expensive and pampered bottom in Hollywood, and imagine her feelings as she realises that although her writhing buttocks are already agonisingly hot and sore she still has another six strokes to come.

Liz Taylor

Coming back to the present day, there are still plenty of candidates for the Order of the Burning Bot. Someone once suggested that Nana Mouskori could inflict a good motherly spanking. She could take one, too, to warm up her bottom for six of the best with a cane.

Nana Mouskouri

Another singer, Anita Harris, could reach some very high notes while howling across someone’s knee with the back of a hairbrush paddling her naked derriere.

Anita Harris

I can think of six or seven actresses who would qualify. Wendy Padbury has a very spankable bottom.

Wendy Padbury

The cane would be more suitable for Nerys Hughes, say nine strokes across her shapely rear.

Nerys Hughes

Felicity Kendall — a really sound spanking with a slipper for her, preferably across the knee of her TV neighbour Penelope Keith. For Penny herself, a rather more drastic fate — a good dose of the birch.

Felicity Kendal

Then we pick up the hairbrush again, and Nina Baden-Semper wails and weeps as her bare bottom receives a stinging, scorching spanking.

Nina Baden-Semper

For lovely Susan Hampshire, the tawse seems appropriate. A couple of stinging strokes across each hand first, before she reluctantly takes down her knickers and bends over to submit her defenceless buttocks for punishment. How many strokes is she going to get, she wonders. Three? Four? Perhaps even six? Sorry, Susan, you’re not a little girl but a mature woman and must be punished accordingly. Twelve of the very best for you, my dear, to make your bottom quiver and squirm and glow red-hot. Allowing for pauses between strokes to let you feel the full effect of each and anticipate the next, you are in for a very, very painful and humiliating quarter of an hour. And when you finally stop sobbing and the raging fire in your shapely buttocks has cooled down just a little, I can imagine your emotions when you are told you must report for a repeat performance in a week’s time.

Susan Hampshire

Feminine assistants on panel games and quizzes often seem suitable for the OBB. Other readers have quite rightly nominated Anne Aston. The two young lovelies on Sale of the Century certainly qualify. A sound public spanking for each, I think, before they tearfully bend over for their rosy, smarting bottoms to be caned.

Sale of the Century

Finally, and especially, Anthea Redfern of The Generation Game. Perhaps a contest to see which of four contenders can give Anthea the soundest spanking. Four consecutive spankings on her bare bottom would certainly wipe the perpetual grin off her face.

Anthea Redfern (1)

But Anthea is so admirably qualified for chastisement that one spanking session, however thorough, seems inadequate. Let us, in fantasy, say that she is to spend six months as a servant in the house of a really strict disciplinarian. During this time she will become thoroughly and painfully familiar with the hairbrush, the tawse, the cane, and many other instruments of chastisement. When she appears before her master every morning, the first words she hears are: ‘Anthea, I am going to take your knickers down and give you a good spanking.’ Ten minutes later, with a tear-stained face and a stinging bottom she starts her duties. She knows that anything short of perfection in performance or behaviour will mean a further painful and humiliating whipping. Perhaps she breaks a plate and fearfully awaits punishment, feeling more like a delinquent schoolgirl than a glamourous young lady as nervously she watches him select a thin, supple cane.

‘Take your knickers down, Anthea!’

‘Y-yes sir.’ The blushing Anthea raises her skirt and her flimsy briefs slip down her long, shapely legs.

‘Bend over.’

‘Please sir, I’m sorry I’m really sorry —’

‘I intend to make sure you are. Touch your toes!’

Trembling with fear and humiliation, Anthea obeys. She feels her skirts pinned up and is miserably aware of the temping target offered by her defenceless bottom and the soft white flesh of her thighs above black nylons. Then the vicious swish of the cane is answered by a sobbing gasp as her punishment begins. Three strokes across her squirming buttocks, three across her tender thighs, then three more to set fire to her bottom while she squeals and weeps and implores. Afterwards she stands in a corner for an hour, hands on head, blubbering with pain and shame as she displays her scorching seat to anyone who happens to call.

Anthea Redfern (2)

Yes, it’s wishful thinking, of course. In reality we know that Anthea and the other girls will probably never feel anything more than the occasional playful slap from husband or boyfriend upon their shapely bottoms. But we can dream, can’t we?

G.F L., Cheshire