Letters from Blushes 13

Dear Sirs,

I have never before bothered to write to a man’s magazine, but the steady stream of deliciously beautiful girls captured by Blushes’ cameras has finally moved me to write in awestruck appreciation of one of your models.

I had thought you wouldn’t soon surpass the beauty and, dammit, the charming personality displayed by the dreamy girl on the left of the cover of Blushes 8 but, stone me, you’ve done it! I cannot recall seeing a more alluring girl in any spanking magazine (or any pin-up magazine, for that matter) than the unforgettable model who featured on the cover of Blushes Supplement Four and in the Top Secret feature in Blushes 10. The cover of the Supplement excellently captures the gorgeous brownness and profundity of her eyes but I’ll confine my remarks to the Top Secret feature, as I think that those photographs show her to be the very ‘model’ of what a spanking model should be. Every aspect of this girl’s physique is superb but, just as important, she fully conveys the impression of a plucky, courageous girl who submissively accepts correction while certainly not enjoying it! That tearful sniffle, or is it a slight snarl, in the top photograph on page 25 really says it all. What a miraculous expression! This girl should be snapped up by Hollywood immediately, or was it for real? Did the bearded gentleman’s hand really sting her spankably sexy bottom, causing her lip to curl so convincingly? She surely looked far from happy when being apparently energetically spanked by the other gentleman at the top of page 26.

Surely only a reader with the hardest of hearts could fail to be moved by the apprehension with which she views the descending cane at the bottom of page 30! I hope those weals did not sting her too badly, for she seems to have taken her punishment as well as could be expected. The outstanding photograph of the set is the large one on page 33 which serves as a good example of your photographer’s sensitivity to girls’ moods. How suggestive this photograph is of a girl’s mood during the ritual of a punishment. What exactly is the eye of the beholder to read into the faraway look in those thought-laden eyes? Is she wishing she were a thousand miles away? Safe from that stingy cane? Or is she looking for signs of compassion in the face of the man who holds her? Maybe, yet there is still pride and a hint of defiance in the bold set of her mouth. The girl is cowed a little, but her spirit is not broken. Who can fail to admire her? She took her punishment with a calm if reluctant acceptance and no doubt learnt the error of her ways, which makes her all the more endearing to your readers, I have no doubt. This is a girl to cherish. Indeed, I’ll make a confession which is probably a shameful one for a Blushes reader.

I have very little desire to give her a spanking and certainly would not wish to see her caned, for in my opinion she just doesn’t deserve it! She’s obviously a sensitive girl (see the dread in her eyes in the top left-hand corner of page 29) and I get the distinct impression that harsh words would probably be sufficient deterrence to bad behaviour in her case, so long as she recognises the justice of one’s argument. I’m not implying that she’s mindlessly obedient; obviously not, or she wouldn’t be up for a spanking in the first place. No, the photos on page 21 show she’s a modern, resourceful, independent-minded girl who probably does need to be taken down a peg or two now and again. But I just think she has too finely-tuned a sensibility to need much spanking, notwithstanding the fact that she has one of the most attractive bottoms ever featured in Blushes — substantial without being too big, and gorgeously shapely! Certainly a bottom that cries out for spanking, and yet I felt the urge to spank dying away when I saw that vulnerable little girlish face. I’d love to see her in another photo-set wearing a gym skirt and tight panties but with bare legs skipping a rope, with action stills of her legs in mid-air as she jumps. Could your photographer capture that? The setting could be a playground or perhaps a gymnasium, in which case I’d also like to see her in a leotard performing energetic aerobics!

I’ll close by nominating her the most attractive girl yet featured in Blushes and would be grateful to know whether others agree. Perhaps readers would like to hold a vote; the winning girl might be invited to do a special photo-set for Blushes, perhaps. Oh well, it must be love! Come on, Blushes, how do you do it?

Sincerely,

J., London

 

Dear Blushes,

Quite recently while members of our Bottom Worshippers club were relaxing in our inner sanctum watching a Jo Durie game on TV, the occasional glimpses of lace panties and knickers brought on memories of Blushes. Hence we humbly wish to propose a ‘Wimbledon warm-up’ sequence for Linda’s column. How about staging Linda warming-up on the tennis court (indoors or outdoors) in a skirt that is much too short, occasionally having to bend over to pick up the ball and with the occasional breeze blowing up her skimpy skirt only to reveal lily-white panties snugly cupping that soft, tender, fat, fleshy pussy puffing out in all its glory. After the practice session, of course, she should be spanked for disobeying the coach’s instructions.

Some members also wish to lodge a serious complaint. Remember the story Bath Night (Blushes No. 2)? Well members have been fuming at the fact that Wendy wasn’t allowed to ‘come’ in that story. It so happens that Wendy (or Kikki as she was in Supplement No. 2) has become the ‘patron saint’ of most of our members. We like her to be handled as she was in Kikki Kikki (Supplement No. 2). She must be sternly disciplined, but we must insist that she be made to spill her thick, warm, creamy thrills of honeydew, pecked on the ‘cheek’ and left lying in a hazy daze. For example in Kikki Kikki she was left feeling all ‘creamy dreamy’ and we just love it when she’s made to feel that way — when she’s ‘stirred’ and ‘brought to the boil’ after a sound caning. So come on Blushes, give us more of Wendy (or Kikki or whatever you prefer to call her). She’s a rose by any name.

The average age of our membership is 38. Our eldest member Mr G Brady (or G.B.) Is 76 and has recently reported that Linda’s bottom (Supplements 2 and 4) has injected new ‘venom’ into his loins. Her pantied bottom in Supplement No. 4 has put back the ‘spring’ not only in his step but… G.B. was so dejected when he read of Fowler’s plans to cut his pension. It took Linda’s smooth shapely bottom to give him a ‘lift’. What a tonic for the flagging hopes of Britain’s male pensioners. Keep up the good work Linda!

Finally, remember Annabel (Supplement No. 4)? Well there’s a picture of her — top left of page 7 where she is standing, knickers down, back to camera, nervously biting her fingers, her big bottom in full bloom. Remember? Well our members are requesting a big blow-up of this picture (at least of that bottom). Gis’ a favour — will you? Please?

We are loyal Blushes readers and we sincerely trust that you will find our suggestions and criticisms constructive. Please convey our thanks and best wishes to all the Blushes girls.

Sincerely,

M. O’Shea for: Bottom Worshippers

 

GERMANY CALLING

 

Dear Editor,

As an enthusiastic reader (and, of course, viewer) of your excellently photographed magazine Blushes. I have a request, which I think many German fans of the traditional English school punishment will share: I would like to see an English teacher (man, or better woman) practising one of our best caning methods for penitent girls, in Germany known as Schenkel-Klemme, which means ‘Hold fast by thighs’.

Example I: Nearly correct - but girl has to stand in bending position, not kneeling!

The naughty girl is forced to bend down in front of the teacher standing with his legs spread wide like horse-riding. The girl’s head is then taken between the teacher’s thighs to hold her in bending position while her skirt is lifted. Now the cane may swish down across the seat of her knickers being pulled tight around her buttocks by a firm grip in the elastic waistband. The second part of the caning is given on the bare bottom, knickers pulled down to the girl’s knees.

Example II: Girl should stand bending down.

I wonder if people in England do know this fine method too, but I never saw any drawings or photographs of it in British publications.

Carry on with your good work.

T.E., Hamburg, Germany

 

Dear Sirs,

Thank you very much for the publication of my letter, dated October 22, in Blushes 6. In particular I want to thank you for giving my full name. It saved my husband from wondering if it could be really me who had written that letter — although it was already quite apparent from its content. Yes, he did read it — the thing I feared so very much, and he spared me even the embarrassment of buying an issue myself. A good friend of my husband had it put right under his nose and so one unfortunate Friday when I returned from shopping, there it lay, open on the sitting room table and my husband waiting already for me, a face like stone, white with rage and fury.

He did not say much at the time, only shoved it over to me with an almost unnecessary question if it was me who had written that letter. Of course, it was me, my name under it left no other answer although I could not really believe to see it there completely — only the address was missing. My legs felt suddenly like sticks made of jelly and my tongue did no longer obey as usual — I tottered around senseless and stammered nonsense excusations, with little hope to achieve anything. I did not know what would happen until he told me in a voice cold and sharp like ice that he had sent our children to their grandparents — a very unusual day it was for a visit. But now I knew what was awaiting me and I can tell you in advance that I received the most thorough punishment I had at any time up to that moment, a really marvellous affair it was, which I must not keep back from your readers. No, on account of my husband I have to describe it in some detail to give your readers an idea what happens to a wife who is unfaithful — so was at least his interpretation — to her husband. So here is my account what went on at this Friday evening up there in our attic.

On the whole the punishment went on as usual, it were only the few exceptions here and there which made it so exceptionally awful. Up in our ‘punishment room’ I stripped naked as usual, fetched the instruments for my punishment from the corner cupboard as usual, handed them over to my husband and knelt on my bench with my hands behind my neck folded as usual, waiting for the usual paddling of my breasts. And here the first of those little changes in the arrangement occurred. Walter, my husband, put the paddle away with the cane and took the whip with its flattened-out end-piece, and with this so very painful device he started to flick at my two big mounds, whipping their peach-coloured smoothness from all possible sides. One single flick with that end of his whip was not so terrible painful, but the increasing number of flicks falling in quick succession let my pain build up fast enough to have me soon breathless with cries and flushed with hot tears — it was definitely worse to have that whip on my poor breasts than that already painful enough paddle. Therefore it will be no surprise when I tell you that I could keep my hands only for eleven minutes behind my head — then my blazing, swollen and welted breasts were bursting with pain and I simply had to relieve them from being whipped any longer.

Crying desperately, even howling and with tears roiling in one single flow over my face distorted with pain, I went into my next punishment position, with me on my back, legs up and held at the knees with my hands locked. The next small change had me instantly with eyes wide open and my mouth crying out with protest — but, of course, in vain. Walter had exchanged his whip for the cane and proceeded to cane my poor quim, offered so completely vulnerable to him in that position. He did not whack down his cane as if he were caning my buttocks or thighs, but he definitely more than once tapped at my poor pussy. With only a few strokes he had my pussy-lips swollen high and dark red, giving way to my more intimate secrets which were in the same state soon after. I howled continuously and tried to keep my position as long as possible, but it was too much — after only seven minutes of that dreadful cane on my quim I had to let go of my legs and slid to the floor, blaring away with the pain between my legs. This left me with 42 strokes of the cane to come, the highest number I had ever achieved to get. Forty-two with that one-meter long cane on my buttocks and on my thighs, it made me cry out loud and pitying. But it did not help me much. Soon afterwards I was draped over that bench, ready for the cane, for it flashing down forty-two times onto my poor flesh. And so it did, stroke after stroke it welted my broad buttocks and my long thighs with its double-ridges, bringing me every time to the top of my voice. As usual, Walter waited for the next stroke until I had calmed down so much that I had the correct position, had my buttocks and thighs without tension and come down from screaming to heavy crying. It needed an awful long time before I had actually received all 42 strokes and by that time my buttocks and thighs were covered by so many weals that not the smallest strip of untouched flesh was left.

I cannot describe my pains and coming close to the reality without using permanently superlatives. I had the horrible feeling that my buttocks and upper thighs were swollen to at least twice their usual size and their corrugated weal-furrowed surface must have actually radiated heat, my rear end made me almost forget what had happened to my breasts and quim.

But the worst thing was that my sufferings were not yet finished. Walter had brought with him your issue 6 and after having me again kneeling on the bench made me reading my own long letter from the beginning to its end, and for every reading mistake I got one more stroke with the cane over the front of my thighs. You should remember that I had already eleven minutes of breast-whipping, seven minutes of pussy-caning and forty-two strokes on my buttocks and thighs which altogether tried to absorb my attention alone. And then to concentrate on a report on punishment, that is not only difficult but almost impossible. It earned me eight more strokes of the cane, eight weals on the front of my poor white thighs when I had reached that last passage of my letter expressing my hope for help by publishing my letter — the irony of which was then completely lost on me. I did not make out any sense of those words, I tried only to read all those words correct, without more mistakes.

Now, afterwards I see the point, but still don’t see any funny aspect in the situation, nor does my husband, he takes the whole thing very serious, therefore also his order to write this letter, telling what his wife had to expect after writing letters of such compromising content without asking for permission first. If he had given his permission when asked? I think so, that is the real irony of it all. I believe that I could have written and have published that letter without one stroke of whip or cane at all — if I had only asked beforehand. It is all as simple as that! And for this letter I didn’t even need any permission but was told to write, a few days after my severest punishment ever, when my breasts, buttocks and thighs were playing in all colours, carrying an underlying ugly yellowish tinge with large patches of blue, purple and almost black and still with also a definite overall swell left. And I did my first draft actually a few days later, when those dark patches were losing colour slowly and my bum had its usual shape again. But even today, when I write this on the typewriter three weeks after my punishment, there are enough traces left to tell an experienced disciplinarian what I have gone through. My malice has turned to sarcasm now as you will have realized in the beginning and will change to a wry smile in due time when asked then on that event.

Again my best wishes to you and your staff and there was no offence meant and actually none taken.

Hanna-Renate Kluge