Letters from Blushes 16

Dear Sirs,

You were kind enough to publish a letter from me in Blushes 6 (if I have remembered correctly) and I have been very gratified to see some of your other readers picking up on some of the comments which I made. Perhaps, therefore, it would be appropriate for me to expand on some of the issues raised.

I complained at that time of the ‘numbing monotony’ of the spanking press, exonerating Blushes from the charge. I would now like to qualify both the accusation and the exemption.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with an erection and a warm glow of satisfaction at the mere thought that there are now a large number of established magazines catering for gentlemen who enjoy meting out painful chastisement on attractive girls. And yet, time after time I have shelled out up to eight pounds on a magazine in which there is nothing to justify my optimism. To put it in the simplest terms, my whole interest in the subject arises from the suffering of the female party to stimulate the male. One would think, with some justification, that this is a central element in all spanking literature, and yet I have found that the crucial subjugation of the girl is more often than not offset by her sexual arousal, and that nine out of ten stories end with the girl looking forward to next time. However much fun there is in a relationship with a masochist in real life, to me at least there is nothing remotely stimulating about reading about a girl who is turned on by so-called punishment.

I suppose that what I look for more than anything else in the CP literature is some feeling of comradeship with like-minded individuals — that is to say that nothing encapsulates the advantages of a specialised CP press so much as the strength-in-numbers syndrome. We are not alone in desiring that sweet young girls should be subjected to pain and humiliation in order to give us sexual gratification.

At the time when I was bursting out to sexual maturity I was unaware of any literature catering exclusively for the spanking kink. I’d always been keen on bottoms, and it was less a case of me searching for material on CP (which I had experienced neither as recipient, perpetrator or witness) than of coming across (almost literally) letters about the joys of caning in Penthouse and feeling immediately that this was the area of sexuality that I had always subconsciously yearned for. The impact was tremendous. I suppose it must have been an exciting time for everybody, the rebirth of a theme that had lain potent and simmering beneath the surface since Victorian times.

It was later still that I discovered Janus (little relation to the magazine now bearing that name), which in those days was on the cusp of shifting its emphasis from a general survey of the ‘fringes’ of eroticism to a solid concentration on the galloping enthusiasm for corporal punishment. Yes, your younger readers may be surprised to know or be reminded that there was no magazine even at that time supported entirely by lovers of the rod. There was a cosiness about Janus; one felt that one was part of an elite that had not only discovered the secret of sexuality but also made contact with like-minded men. I would like to think that it is the mutual encouragement which we ‘regulars’ (I contributed often to the letters pages and came to recognise the style of other prolific penmen) gave to each other that has restored devotion to the flogging of females to its rightful place in the forefront of British sexuality.

To this day it is often the letters section of spanking magazines that gives me the greatest thrill — all too often it is one letter alone that provides the stimulation I require, a scant reward for the considerable outlay. Have other readers ever pondered the fact that the letters pages of CP magazines often contain the most intelligent and literate comment to be found in any male-dominated publications? This was certainly true in the old days which I was just referring to — if there are more missives from the less sophisticated now than there were ten years ago, that only means that the taste for SM has spread through all aspects of society. You don’t have to be an aristocrat or a genius to appreciate a roasted rump.

Although I hold fast to my assertion that most of the CP magazines are shoddy and half-hearted, it is obvious that they have come into being to satisfy a huge demand. Off the top of my head I can think of eight titles regularly in production at present, to which can be added numerous ‘one-off’ publications and short-lived essays into the field. In some Soho bookshops whole walls are given up to the subject, and a quick count of titles on offer would seem to indicate that there are as many men into caning as there are lovers of big breasts, if not more! who would have predicted such a widespread enthusiasm for discipline say fifteen years ago?

Even if there are few distinguished titles among the plethora of magazines, there is something to be gained from the mere fact that a love of whacking girls has become so institutionalised. The casual browser, looking for novelty to perk up a jaded sexual appetite is more than likely to discover one of these publications, become fascinated and eventually hooked on the subject. New converts are being won every day, which is great news for publishers such as yourself, for those of us who want to see the practice of corporal punishment on girls continued and expanded, and worrying news for the anti-cane spoilsports, teenage girls and the mothers of teenage girls.

But what of those of us who have long been convinced of the joys of beating young female flesh? It must be confessed that the formulas adopted by these magazines are becoming just a little tired by now. Most magazines seem to emulate the format of Janus circa 1976 [by my calculation, that would be c. Volume 7], with some justification. There are photographs of hands hovering over unclad bottoms, fiction that tends to concern an attractive girl receiving not-too-serious retribution for a minor misdemeanour, and letters praising the magazine before going on to recount some scholastic experience that didn’t really amount to much.

It is often forgotten that in the years prior to this, Janus was a much more varied publication. There were regular forays into the past, uncovering incidents from the days of slavery, religious persecution, workhouse discipline… Often newspaper articles were reprinted and subjected to analysis, there were surveys of caning in other parts of the world, and even reference to harsh punishments other than the classic birching or caning. Of course, there are times when many articles fell wide of the mark for my own particular taste, but nonetheless there were often delicious surprises and it was rarely that the whole magazine could be dull. How different it all is now, when one constantly has the feeling that one has read the stories on offer a hundred times before. I would rather be shocked than soothed sometimes.

I don’t mean that lightly. The law of diminishing returns applies to pornography as much as anything else, and whereas a faint ruddy mark on a bottom might have been a thrilling photo ten years ago, it’s not going to do much for us now. Similarly with fiction, it has to be more daring each time if it is going to produce the same frisson. Now obviously you would not want to escalate your product’s aggressive edge to the point where it becomes unpleasantly savage and at risk from the law. I think therefore that you have to be on the lookout for new slants, stunts and forms of presentation if you are going to keep us happy.

I said that my praise for your magazine was now slightly qualified, and the disappointment I have had in it recently has been that it has settled down into a rather predictable format. Now don’t get me wrong, it is better than anything else around because its heart is in the right place. The fiction is better written than your rivals’ and generally has more bite, though it is several months now since we had a really wicked bit of exploitation to compare with your first stories. What I would like to see would be more surprises and more contact with the outside world. One thoroughly good idea which you did have was the reprinting of the poster for the Moscow Olympics. That was a delicious surprise and it took us for once out of the enclosed realm of familiar models in familiar poses and of fictional situations. How I would love to see more contact with reality — reviews of TV programmes that involve schoolgirls, photographs from gymnastic competitions either at international or (preferably) local level, newspaper articles which might be of interest to your readers, information from school archives…

From Blushes 7

It is this emphasis on the fact that spanking literature stems from a genuine desire to inflict genuine punishment on the genuine bottoms of genuine girls that appeals to me. That, I suppose is why I so much enjoy letters about celebrity punishment. May I at this point thank the gentleman who anonymously replied to my earlier letter in Supplement 1? His musings on the likelihood of Shirley Strong having received the benefit of Janet Dines’ cane across her sturdy adolescent haunches were extremely stimulating. What a pity that an ankle injury has prevented Miss Strong from exhibiting her sexy arse this season. We look forward to fantasising about you in the near future, Shirl.

In the meantime I would like to nominate one of Shirley’s sporting sisters for the cane. The British gymnast Hayley Price (18) is just about the most voluptuous thing ever to squeeze into a leotard. Tits like melons on it and an arse that burgeons forth triumphantly. Watch her wobble her way along the beam or twist and contort her body in the floor exercise and you will soon require the services of your thumb and index finger to properly appreciate Hayley’s artistry. Just imagine how her magnificent breasts would bounce if unrestrained by all that stretch-webbing. Picture those few regions of her big bum that aren’t exposed to your gaze by the rapidly retreating seat of her costume. Fortunately it is considered to create a poor artistic impression if you pause to tug your leotard from up your bum in the middle of an exercise, so Hayley has to forget modesty in the interests of sport.

Hayley Price

I’d like to peel the costume down from her protuberant breasts and stuff the seat right up in her bottom before making Hayley straddle the vaulting horse. Then, with a regulation crook-handled cane I would enthusiastically belabour her shimmering teenage cheeks until the soft white flesh becomes swollen, striped with red and with purple bruises showing underneath. Then she would strip completely, crying hysterically, and lie across my lap for me to rub pungent iodine into her bare bottom with my rubber-gloved hand.

As a grand finale, the blubbering Hayley Price would have to kneel on the floor in front of me with her hands on her head, thus elevating her sumptuous bristols. These I would proceed to whip with a light martinet until they bounced like footballs and glowed like traffic lights.

I’d like to close with two suggestions for features which would make your magazine just a little out of the ordinary. First, please take up the suggestion from a Mr Saxon in your most recent issue that he writes a comprehensive history of the subjugation of women. May I ask Mr Saxon to linger on the details of individual cases, giving names wherever possible, and not to spare us any aspect of their suffering.

Secondly I enclose a copy of the letters page of the TV Times for 4th October, and suggest that you reprint the letter from Mrs G M of Lincs., together with Dear Katie’s reply. It seems that Mrs G M has in her innocence written to the wrong magazine and that the readers of Blushes might be altogether more able to give her and her daughter the advice they need. Could you ask the readers to write in with their suggestions? If you do I promise to send in my own thoughts on the kind of ‘negotiating’ Mrs G M should indulge in with her daughter.

With best wishes,

Tom G

Perhaps Mr G would consider giving us his opinion [most welcome] on our new magazine Whispers, which for the most part has to do with the humiliation aspects of corporal punishment.

Dear Sir,

Please find enclosed a picture of my new geodesic greenhouse, with a view of my neighbour’s daughter’s bottom; that is not the lower half of a bikini — those are her knickers!

The photo was taken surreptitiously through an open window at the beginning of the holidays last summer, when the girl was using the greenhouse as a wind-proof solarium to get her suntan off to a good start. With her own house empty and her father at business all week, she took to coming round and simply slipping out of all but her knickers and encamping herself on the greenhouse floor, admittedly at my invitation but with a degree of cock-teasing bravado I had not envisaged. I should like to say that I took advantage of her forwardness, but at my age one doesn’t like to push one’s luck.

I recall having read a letter in your excellent magazine asking for photos, as the writer put it, ‘of girls we can be sure have at sometime had a good, bare-bottomed spanking’; I therefore put this picture before you as being just what that correspondent was looking for.

Although the girl is now at university, she has been my neighbour for some five years. Several years ago my curiosity was excited by the spectacle of her, in pale blue shorts, being propelled towards the house from the far end of the garden by her father, who was holding both her hands behind her as he pushed her along whilst spanking her firmly across her buttocks with his free hand. He spanked her all the way to the house, some hundred feet I should think, while she bleated and squealed and stumbled up the path, swerving her bum from side to side as she tried to avoid the spanks. The furore continued inside the house for some time, from upstairs, with the girl’s cries coming less frequently but being far more desperate, the whole thing lasting for perhaps ten minutes. It was my surmise at the time that her bum was getting something more painful than a hand across it, perhaps a cane.

Subsequently I have several times seen her catch a firm slap across her bottom from her father, always in the garden of course, since I couldn’t see inside the house and each time in shorts or swimming costume. On other occasions I have heard her crying in what I suppose is her bedroom, again sounding like a girl whose bottom is getting something more than a mere palm across it.

I have, needless to say, made opportunities to ask her about this interesting state of affairs, but apart from blushes which would do credit to some of the girls in your magazine I have managed to elicit little response. However I have gleaned the fascinating piece of information that her ‘father’ isn’t her father, but her stepfather. Now doesn’t that add an entirely new dimension to it all?

B. S., Herts