Letters from Blushes Supplement 21

Dear Editor,

Recently there have been a number of calls in Feedback for more letters concerned with readers’ experiences. I hope that readers will be interested in this experience of mine, even though it dates back about 15 years.

My son was a young soldier then, I was a widower. He seemed to have unlimited opportunity and I was shocked and angry when he came home one day and announced that he and his girlfriend Sally had got married. She seemed to me to be just a slip of a girl and although she was undeniably pretty, small and blonde-haired, she was also painfully shy and awkward especially with me. Although I didn’t approve I tried to help them as much as I could and let them have the top flat of my house. Being so close I was very aware that things were not going well but my son would not confide in me. Three months later he received the news that he was to be posted abroad for nine months; before he left he asked me to take care of Sally and I promised to do so.

I tried my best over the next four weeks but we still found it hard to communicate and any attempt I made to ask about the marriage was met with fits of crying. I was quite pleased when a few days later I saw that Sally had dressed up and was going out with a girl from the office. Sally had no family and seemed to have few friends. I was woken in the early hours by the sound of screams and shouts from the flat above. I rushed up and burst into the flat to find Sally in a state of near undress and a young man struggling with her. I grabbed the youth and he protested that she had led him on. I escorted him from the house with my boot and promised him the police if I saw him again. The next day I called Sally in to my part of the house as she returned after work. I told her that I would write to my son to let him know what I had witnessed and I offered her money to help her leave and find somewhere else. At this the girl broke down in floods of tears and explained what had happened. She told me that the problem between herself and my son had been the inability to have sex; she had just frozen the first time they tried and things had got worse as he lost patience with her. When she was out with the friend the youth had shown an interest in her and the foolish girl had thought that if she could do it just once with a stranger then perhaps everything would be alright when her husband came home. Of course, when things got beyond a cuddle she panicked and he had tried to force himself on her.

A plan formed in my mind and after some consideration I gave Sally an alternative to my son finding out. I told her that I would insist on punishing her for her stupid behaviour and would also insist on taking her in hand to try and sort out the other problem. She grasped this chance without thinking much about the implications. I told her that her punishment would begin immediately and since she was behaving like a silly little girl then I would treat her accordingly. I ordered her to my side and sat on an upright chair. I then pulled the astonished girl across my lap. She gasped as I pulled up her light cotton dress and began to protest as I peeled down her tights. I quietened this protest with a swift slap to her leg and I took the tights right off. This left her in small cotton pants and I tugged these up snugly before starting to spank her. The poor girl was mortified and I could see the deep red blush extend round her neck. It was not long however before she had other concerns than the fact that I had exposed her pants; I spanked firmly and slowly and soon her little whimpers turned to squeals of pain and she began to wriggle on my lap. After a couple of minutes I thought I had made a good enough start and I ordered her up to her bedroom. I followed her up the stairs after fetching one of my old slippers on the way. Once in the bedroom I told Sally that I was going to continue her punishment and start to cure her of her shyness. I ordered the sobbing girl to take off all her clothes. She protested so I slapped her sharply across the side of her leg. Off came the dress and I unclasped her bra. Two small firm breasts popped out and I grasped each nipple and squeezed and tickled them. When she pulled away she was slapped on the tit and that brought her back. I then told her to pull her pants down. Again she pleaded and I finally lost patience with her and scooped her up under my arm and stripped them off her before putting her across my knee for a good dose of the slipper. The sting of the slipper soon had her crying again and when her bottom was red all over I laid her on her back on the bed and brought her legs over. In this position everything was exposed and I began to rub her gently, starting at the down-covered mound and progressing to the soft pink lips of her delightful little fanny. At first she was trembling and her legs and arms were rigid. As I continued to stroke and tickle her I felt the beginning of warm wetness and knew I was making progress.

A new regime began in my house the very next day. I moved her down with me and every evening there was sex instruction for Sally. I made her spend much of the time in varying degrees of undress and there was a gradual build-up of sexual activity with a good number of sound spankings when my pupil did not give her lessons her full attention. Within a few weeks she was taken from a frigid girl to a responsive one; I did not actually have her myself but instructed her on technique and simply knowing her own body. I still recall the pleasure I felt when I was first able to bring her to climax; I actually had her over my lap for a spanking and had managed to cup her fanny in the hand that wasn’t spanking her. At first I tickled and spanked at the same time but soon she was rubbing herself vigorously against my fingers. It went on so long that her poor bottom was terribly sore, but she didn’t seem to notice.

When my son returned from his tour of duty abroad I picked him up from the camp when his leave began. On the way home he told me what had been the problem with Sally. He clearly had been dreading the return home. He asked what he should do and I managed to keep a serious face as I suggested that he take no more nonsense off Sally. I advised that he start as he meant to go on and said the first thing he should do when he got home was to take her up to the bedroom, take her pants down and spank her hard across his knee before laying her down and getting the marriage started. I sat downstairs later and listened to the squeals.

B.W., Essex

Dear Editor of Blushes,

First of all my greatest congratulations on your most magnificent publication. It is by far the best thing of its sort that has been published for quite a few years — and better still, it is ever improving yet.

Or do I imagine that for a little while you bring in more shots of punishees pushing out their bared pussies from between naked buttocks and thighs right into the punisher’s (and, of course the reader’s) face?

Doing just this, or better to be forced to do this is one of the main and important necessities running under the headline Humiliation. And humiliation, in my opinion is one of the main ingredients of C.P., a thing which can’t be emphasised too often.

And therefore to make the punishee bare her backside or even strip naked and have her reveal all her maidenly or womanly charms and secrets to her chastiser in an utterly submissive position, have her thrust out all her nakedness, bulging and pouting, that is really one idea — and in my opinion the best — to achieve proper humiliation during corporal punishment in a girl or a woman. And if those bared, presented pussies are naked, all the better, for it will certainly increase the culprit’s humiliation by a few more degrees.

But that must be by no means the ultimate of humiliation which may be achieved by ‘sticking out their bare bottoms’.

Another nice addition to my ‘dames’ humiliation I have already mentioned by the by — the double mirror arrangement. It allows the chastiser to watch the culprit’s back and face at the same time and so judge the effect of the rod more precisely and completely and it allows the culprit, of course, to watch her own face, tear-stained and howling with pain as well as her own chastised backside — a really nice addition to their shame and punishment.

In case of the position you show rather often, i.e. the culprit lying on her back with her legs up, that mirror arrangement is not necessary, at least not for the chastiser — for the culprit to watch herself being caned in a mirror could still be a good idea. It is that a really wonderful position I believe, but unfortunately it is one difficult to keep in a real punishment for the punishee, as I have tried out myself. Even the threat of added punishment would not keep them in their position and on the table — only a tying-up of legs and wrists would do and to that sort of measure I could not persuade myself.

Nevertheless, to watch her own backside develop and accumulate cane-mark after cane-mark and observe each individual mark reach a riper and riper colour as well as following her own bottom’s wild dance after each swish of the rod, to see the either rhythmic or erratic unclenching and clenching of her pain-trembling and shuddering, almost breathing nude half-globes — all that adds up to a quite nice piece of shame of its own. And much the same will be true for the sight of their own image, tear-stained, bawling, howling and wide-open legs, and beneath big, bouncing boobs (with my wife) and nice, firm tits (with the girl) bobbing and juggling, jerking and dangling their silly accompaniment to the cane — and that too is only shame and disgrace to be added to the other.

That it really adds to their shame and disgrace, makes a quite nice humiliation, that I know from my wife and the other girl, who will never stop trying to chance just that part of their caning procedure, i.e. to have it omitted at all. The plain caning they take just for granted and accept it as part of their lives and a necessary part as it is, a most painful part as it appears but a most useful one nevertheless as they admit when their bottoms are smooth, pink and spotless and the last weals forgotten and over. But as soon as their conscience gets clouded with guilt and a new punishment comes closer and closer they do hate that long cane, hate its existence and more so its use, hate it and all C.P. and their own, of course, most. Then they try begging and praying, pleading and entreating, arguing and finding excuses, all and everything to escape their oncoming engagement with the cane. They will know it for quite a few days that their bottom and thighs are once more to be bared and be ready to pay suffering for all their sins (known and unknown ones) with a nice well-caned behind in a nice shameful, disgraceful procedure, howling with pain, shame and lots of humiliation, watching herself, watching her master, and on occasion the one or the other of the yet wider family circle, be it my parents-in-law or my near-living brother and wife, watching them all — and being watched, closely watched by them all. Knowing to being watched, seeing their eyes on themselves, meeting their eyes, eyes large and inquisitive, eyes heavy with pity, eyes maliciously sparkling, eyes cooly comparing atonement and sin, eyes wide with the knowledge, with the echo of pain, eyes calling for mercy and for more of the cane, eyes slightly disgusted or mighty enthralled and eyes uneasy with shame or quite innocent staring, eyes treacherously glistening with deeply felt sympathy or those quite openly gloating over the scene. Eyes everywhere! — Eyes on her face, red, puffy, swollen and glistening with tears! Eyes on her boobs, heavily swinging and bobbing in front! Eyes on her waist, tightly encased and laced-up in that much too small corset, nearly bursting under the strain of so much crying and howling and those six extremely tightened but still quite long, front and side-fastened suspenders! Eyes on her buttocks and her upper thighs, naked except halfway down to her knees where the suspenders are strongly secured to stress-gleamingly stockings! Eyes between her buttocks, between thighs! Eyes on her private parts! Eyes on her pussy, hairless and naked! Eyes on her pointing stiletto high heels and on her hands, desperately clutching each other at the back of her head, ruffling the thick and long hair as the efforts to cry out her pain make her turn her face hither and thither when the long rattan-rod did start to swish down on her naked, stuck-out female backside.

If that is not humiliation I don’t know what is, and if that is not a good punishment I don’t know either! I for my part am very much content with this procedure for my wife and the other girl since it helps very much to shape and reshape them into very obedient and loving examples of femininity. So much for myself and my ways and procedures for dealing with girls; it’s the best way I think, although not quite the most easiest one. Once more all congratulations to you and all your staff, keep on going and keep on improving, give us more backsides with big and bare pussies, have them presented in all their glory and naked beauty and please, do try to put in here and there a nice, staring rosebud of your enthrallingly photographed punishees.

Many thanks and best regards.

Markus E., Bonn