OBB — Letter from Janus 6.12

SUCH STUFF AS DREAMS ARE MADE OF

I’m enthusiastic about The Order of the Burning Bot, and can, perhaps suggest a few candidates.

For a start, those lovely models, Jilly Johnson, Nina Carter and Kelly St. John. Three deliciously spankable bottoms, which would quiver and squirm adorably under a firm masculine hand or the back of a hairbrush well laid on by some big, stern, matronly lady. Three very unhappy young ladies to each stand in a corner in disgrace afterwards, tearfully holding up their skirts to display red, burning buttocks and miserably aware that after half an hour to cool off those shapely, smarting seats are going to be warmed up again with six strokes of the cane.

Jilly Johnson & Nina Carter

Kelly St. John

From the film world, Sophia Loren and Elke Sommer. For them, a sound spanking with the hairbrush, twice a week for a month, with a very thorough birching to look forward to at the end of it. Oh, and Julie Edge. You can take your knickers down, Julie, and bend over for six resounding strokes of the tawse on your bare buttocks.

Sophia Loren

Elke Sommer

Julie Edge

From TV, well, Angela Rippon to start with. I like and admire Miss Ripon, but perversely that makes me all the more keen to tan her backside. Across my knee, Angela, like a naughty little girl, skirts up to show those celebrated legs, and it’s a sound, ten-minute slippering on your bare bottom for you, to shatter that cool, smiling, self-possession. When you get up, lips quivering and tears streaming down your face, you too can have half an hour in the corner to cool off. Then it’s back for your second dose. The martinet, this time, I think, ten stinging leather thongs to lash across your writhing bare seat. Shall we say twelve strokes? No, after all, you’re a big girl, better make it fifteen. And you can read the next news standing up!

Angela Rippon

I like Nanette Newman too, but I’m afraid that’s not going to save you from a really sound spanking with the hairbrush, my dear. You are going to spend a penitential half-hour across my knee, with your skirts around your waist and your knickers down to your knees. Twenty solid, stinging spanks on your tender bare bottom, then a five minute break while you writhe and weep and plead across my lap, then another twenty and so on. Poor Nanette! What an exquisitely painful, scorching, stinging rear end you will have before I’ve finished with you, and how bitterly you will sob as spank follows agonising spank.

Nanette Newman

Only one sportswoman, jockey Davina Galicia. Not because I find her especially spankable, but last time I backed her, she lost! That qualifies her for a good hiding with the tawse.

Davina Galicia

As a grand finale, let’s have every contestant for the next Miss World title soundly spanked on her swimsuited bottom, one after another. This would take some time, but I don’t suppose the audience would be bored. It would be amusing to hear the multi-lingual squeals of, ‘Ow, please stop, my bottom is on fire!’ in French, Spanish, Urdu, Swahili and so on. Interesting, too, to observe the reactions vary according to national temperament. The dainty, demure Miss Japan, for example, might take her punishment quietly, with as much dignity as possible and only an occasional gasp to betray the roasting pain in her pert little well-paddled posterior. While the statuesque, extrovert Miss Sweden might howl blue murder. Big, blonde Miss USA, brought up on a diet of Mom’s hairbrush and Pop’s razor-strop might take it almost as a matter of routine, while shy, modest Miss Sri Lanka squirmed in anguished humiliation as she received in public the first spanking of her life. The girl finally selected as Miss World could be made to reluctantly peel off her swimsuit to reveal her charms in full, before touching her toes for twelve stinging, scorching strokes of the cane. It would make a change, anyway, from the usual decorous and rather dull proceedings.

Miss World

R.V., Manchester