Interview — Carla (a.k.a. Catherine Corbett)

An interview with Monday’s video star, from Februs 34


I was at home when the phone rang. It was Paula.

Paula: Will, Dear. Must this be your last interview?

Me: For the moment, sadly it must.

Paula: Februs and the readers are going to miss you.

Me: Paula, not half as much as I’m going to miss it, them and you.

Paula: Enough of this cloying sentimentality and on with the last.

Me: That would be fine if I had one in mind.

Paula: As it happens Will, I was talking to a friend who is very much into the scene and he was telling me about a lady he met when he was dining on his own for once at a French restaurant. And guess what? She was the manageress! He felt there was something about her and he was right. He went there a few more times and gradually brought the conversation round to all things spanking, as it were, and they became good friends. Anyway, she’s not very experienced yet, so he thought an interview with her would be of interest to the readers. I felt he was right, so here’s the number.

Time was short, so less than a week later in the early evening, I arrived at a house in London, kindly loaned to me by a gentleman whom I liked immediately. Carla (for that is her name) was already there. She was a most attractive blonde lady. Simply dressed in blue jeans and a white top, though she informed me that she had brought a schoolgirl outfit with her and would I like to see her in it. ‘I think I’d like to do a little more than see you in it, please,’ I said. She grinned, ‘I kinda thought you might,’ she replied.

Eventually, we were offered the use of the gentleman’s study and I gathered up my instruments of retribution; my tape recorder, my camera and Carla, in that order. We made ourselves comfortable. I switched on and we began the interview.

Me: Well, Carla, I’m Will. Where were you born?

Carla: Canada. I’m Canadian.

Well, dear Readers. Though not born in Canada, I was evacuated there, in some far distant war or other and I remember singing, ‘Oh, Canada’, the anthem of that country. On looking at the vision before me it gave a whole new meaning to, ‘Oh, Canada I stand on guard for thee’. This lady was slinky and statuesque and all at the same time.

Me: Why did you leave Canada?

C: I came here by myself when I was sixteen.

Me: Who looked after you?

C: I looked after myself. I left Canada, went around the States and came here. Doing jobs in kitchens and that sort of thing.

Me: At the age of sixteen?

C: Yes.

Me: Why did you leave Canada?

C: I’d been released from a Juvenile Detention Centre.

Me: Was that a custodial sentence?

C: Yes it was.

Me: What had you done?

C: I’d been stealing.

Me: It seems rather a harsh sentence for a young person. What did you steal? Sweets, magazines, what?

C: Cars!

Me: Ah! Right! So when you were released you decided to turn over a new leaf?

C: I sure did.

Me: And you came to England.

C: Yes.

Me: So here you stayed.

C: Yes.

Me: Where did the spanking come from?

C: It was always a sexual thing for me. I was never spanked as a child. Eventually I started having sexual encounters with men I always had this thing. I wanted to be spanked.

Me: Didn’t something have to happen first? When you were making love? Didn’t someone put you over his knee and take your knickers down and give you a good spanking on your bare bottom for whatever reason?

C: No, never. Well, in a way. I’ll tell you what. It was my first boyfriend. Timothy Swann, his name was. He was into unusual things. He wasn’t much older than me, but he’d been reading magazines and wanted to check these things out. He was young but he was already a sadistic bastard. He used to tie me up. Yeah, that’s what got me interested in that stuff. I’m submissive, and I like to be tied up.

Me: Do you like role playing?

C: Well, yes, I sure do.

Me: (knowing where this was going to go next) That sounds nice to me. Would you say you’re completely submissive?

C: Yes, I would say I am.

Me: What do you like best about spanking?

C: I like the sensation afterwards. All tingly and special.

Me: I think I shouldn’t keep you from that experience any longer (finding a new strength in my voice). Stand up at once with your back to me!

Dear Reader, the result was electric. It was like pulling a lever, or switching a switch. The change was immediate. She leaped to attention.

C: Yes, sir.

Me: Pull down your jeans. Not fast enough. Pull them up. Pull them down. Pull them up! Down! Up! Down.

Poor girl, she did her best, but the disciplinarian I had turned into was too fast for her. She faltered.

C: I’m doing my best, sir.

Me: Not good enough!

My hand came down on her knickered bottom while she was still in a standing position. Hard!

Me: Turn round and face me.

She did. I sat down on a high stool which seemed to have been made for the purpose, and probably was.

Me: Over my lap, please, Carla.

She did that too. Her body was tanned and golden.

Me: I think you’ve been on holiday.

C: Yes, I have, sir.

Me: Where did you go?

C: Spain, sir.

I started to spank her, first on one cheek, then on the other.

Me: The rain in Spain, Spank! Smack! Swatt!

C: Stays mainly on the plain, oww! Ooh! Ouch! and I wish I was on one right now, sir.

Me: I’ll just bet you do. Raise your bottom.

She obliged. I rolled down her panties, to reveal a gorgeous tanned bottom.

C: (quite unnecessarily) My bottom is all bare, sir.

Me: No need to state the obvious.

I reached out to the desk next to me and produced my small leather paddle. I held it in front of her.

Me: This is a paddle.

C: Beg your pardon, sir, but aren’t you stating the obvious now?

Me: I was about to say that this is a paddle with which you are going to get six hard whacks. Now, I think we’ll make it twelve provided you don’t give me any more cheek. Count them. If you miscount, you know what will happen, don’t you?

C: Another one, sir?

Me: Guess again, Carla.

C: Another six?

Me: Another twelve. We go back to the start. After each one, the obligatory number, and ‘thank you, sir.’

We began.

C: Thank you, sir!

Whapp!!

C: OowoWW!! Thank you, sir!

Tthwa-ack!!!

C: Owww — ohmyGodthankyou, sir!!

Me: Are you enjoying this, Carla?

C: No, thank you, sir.

Me: Do you know what a Baker’s Dozen is, Carla?

C: No, Sir.

Me: Well, when a baker made twelve of anything he always made thirteen to make sure he kept his customers. And to make sure I keep you I’m going to give you the same treatment.

C: That’ll be nice, sir.

And on we went.

C: (finally) Aah!! Yeow!!! Thirteen, thank you, SIR!!

Me: Up you get.

She did.

Me: You promise never to do it again?

C: Oh, yes, Sir.

Me: You may kiss me on the cheek.

Afterwards.

Me: Was that alright?

C: Yes.

Me: Not too heavy?

C: No.

Me: Now, Carla, I’m popping out for some wine. While I’m gone, say anything you like into the tape recorder.

C: Anything?

Me: Anything. I shan’t hear it until I’m writing up the interview.

C: OK, Boss. Not too much wine though, ‘cos I’m driving.

Carla’s story.

C: That was fun. I have to take pills which take away the marks, because I bruise so easily. I haven’t told my newest boyfriend, who I love very much, exactly what I do. I’ve tried to hint around it, like, ‘I know a girl that likes to get tied up, humiliated and get her bottom spanked. What do you think of that?’

He said, ‘Oh, my God. That’s outrageous!’ and we left it at that.

I didn’t feel I could take it any further. Hopefully in the future, I’ll take the risk and tell him but there you go. (Nervous laugh). Talking to myself. I wonder what Will will make of this? Well, he did say, ‘say anything’. I suppose in the end it’ll come out at some stage. Sooner or later he’s going to see my little black and blue bottom. There’s only so many times you can fall downstairs, isn’t there? I suppose it’ll be quite funny really. There you go. Such is life. You’d never think that something like this’d be as much fun as it is. Everyone I’ve met so far has been OK. Will seems nice. I think I’m going to be able to take a lot more from him, because he seems to be considerate.

At this point I returned, triumphantly bearing the aforesaid tipple. We imbibed some of the rather questionable wine. Then I switched on the tape recorder.

Me: You run a restaurant. Did you start as a waitress?

C: Yeah, and two months later they got rid of the manager and asked me to do it.

Me: You’ve been doing it for years now, haven’t you?

C: Yes, I’ve been running it for six years. You don’t need to know the name of it, do you?

Me: Better not, perhaps. While many of our readers would consider themselves gourmets and wish to visit for its own sake, others might wish only to try the ‘Derriere Flambeaux’.

C: (laughing) Yeah, that would be great. I must try to put it on the menu.

Me: Do you decide on the menus?

C: Yes, I do.

Me: You describe yourself as completely submissive. Isn’t it a bit difficult to control the staff, then?

C: Good God, I’m not submissive there. I’m completely in charge. In fact I would say I’m a control freak! They do as I say.

Me: Presumably the staff are French?

C: Yes, they are. All of them.

Me: Being French, aren’t they a bit romantic? I mean, hasn’t anyone tried to seduce you?

C: They wouldn’t dare. Well, maybe when I first took over. But now they just get on with it. I’m the boss and that’s it.

Me: Do you like cooking?

C: Yes, I like food. In fact I love it.

Me: Have you ever had to cook at the restaurant?

C: Had to, no! Done it out of love, yes.

Me: You’re so slim.

C: Yes, I hate fat, so it stays away from me. I get a lot of exercises.

Me: Yes, I understand (laughter). You’re going to get some more soon!

C: I eat healthy food. I love drink, though. Love my wine.

Me: Apologies for this one (a polite silence). I take it this is your day off?

C: No. I was working earlier.

Me: Do you have a big turnover?

C: You should know. You’ve spanked it.

Me: I do the jokes!

C: Sorry.

Me: You will be. You’ll get six for that.

C: Only six?

Me: My word, you’re eager.

C: Well, you’ve whetted my appetite.

Me: Then it’s not just for food. Do you think you bully the staff?

C: No, but I’m no dummy doughnut, either.

Me: Whatever that may mean! (God, sometimes I despair of the denizens of our dominions!) Now you’ve discovered spanking, do you see a whole career in that kind of thing?

C: I think I’ll always be interested in it. I don’t know about a career. I like acting, too. That’s one reason I’m good at role-playing.

Me: Have you done any?

C: Yes, I was Oliver Twist in… er…

Me: Great Expectations?

C: Stop that, or I’ll set Helen on to you.

Me: Oh, you’ve heard that, have you?

C: Just a rumour.

Me: I’m admitting to nothing. How old were you?

C: Ten. I’ve always had a bid towards acting. (Changing the subject) You know what happened today? My boyfriend faxed me a rude, filthy message, so I think I’m going to send him one back, that I want him to tie me up, spank and fuck me until I scream. Maybe if he gets into the bondagy bit, he might just get the idea. I’ve got a cane handy, just in case.

Me: How old is he?

C: Thirty.

Me: About time he sampled a few of the pleasures of life. Have you ever had any funny experiences with spanking or anything like that?

C: Well, I’m a bit too new for that, but it’s funny you should say that. I seem to have started to give something out — I don’t know what. Sometimes people will say something in the restaurant when I ‘m serving. And I give them a sassy reply and they sometimes say, ‘I’ll have to spank your bottom,’ And I think, ‘Oh yeah, alright’. Some of the business gentlemen and the older guys, they say it as a joke, but it gets me wishing. If only they knew.

Me: It’s because of a friend you met like that that we’re here. I think you’ve been a naughty enough girl to change into uniform now, don’t you?

C: I think so.

Me: Would you like me to go out of the room while you get changed?

C: I think I’d feel even naughtier if you were there.

Me: In that case I shall watch and make sure your uniform is on straight.

C: Black or grey skirt?

Me: Do I have a choice? Grey.

C: Grey it is, sir.

She changed in front of me. The white top came off, immediately followed by her bra. She stood in front of me wearing only her blue jeans. She looked like an advert for Levi’s the way they should be. Her breasts are quite small, but as everything else about her, are perfectly in proportion.

Me: Unbuckle your jeans.

C: And take them off?

Me Most certainly, and your shoes.

She did. Which left her standing in white knickers and white socks, which she was already wearing.

Me: And your knickers.

C: That will leave me completely nude, sir.

Me: No it won’t, girl. You’ll still be wearing the socks.

C: Oh, yes, that’s right, sir.

Off they came and Carla stood before me as naked as the day she was born, except for the absurd little socks that served as the foundation for the entertainment that followed which can only be described as a striptease in reverse. First the navy blue knickers, which were rolled on in a way that a genuine schoolgirl could only guess at. Then the Persil-white shirt was slipped into in three delicate movements. The tie followed suit, with a knot that would have delighted a Toronto property dealer. The final touches were the skirt, and as an added bonus, the button-down black shoes. And there she stood. The ‘Compleat’ Schoolgirl.

Me: I’m going to spank your naughty little bottom, Carla, and you are going to talk to me while I do.

C: Very good, sir.

Me: You had better be, Carla, you had better be.

At this point I pulled up the rather too short pleated skirt and began methodically to spank her over those thick blue knickers.

Me: Whop! Whack! Thwhop!! Did your father never do this to you when you deserved it?

C: Ouch! Ooh Urrfl! No, sir.

Me: Then he certainly should have, don’t you think? Smack! Whack!! Spank!!

C: Oooh! Aahgh! OWOWOUW!!! I’m glad he never did, sir.

Me: In that case you must be entirely glad that I did.

C: No, sir. Not at all, sir!

Me: Now I think there is a little too much material between us.

C: (despairingly) Do you, sir?

Me: (rolling down her knickers) Yes, I certainly do.

A positive drumbeat of spanks, gradually slowing down to a steady rhythm, then pacing up to a frenzy and down to the hard, solid base note slaps, just to warm her up and all the time she was laughing, yes, laughing. With the sheer delight of my hand which was causing her bottom to bounce thoroughly.

C: They’re like apples, aren’t they?

Me: They most certainly are.

C: Is there a mirror here?

Me: Yes. On the back of the cupboard door.

C: My, yes, apples.

Me: Rosy cheeked apples… You may now present me with the slipper you’ll find over there.

C: Ooh, sir. What for, sir?

Me: (dryly) All the better to beat you with, my dear.

She waddled over to the ledge holding the solid leather slipper. Walking is a little difficult with your knickers round your ankles. She returned and, unbidden, slipped once more across my knee. I grasped the slipper firmly and brought it down hard on Carla’s naked posterior. TTHHWUPPP!!!

C: AAahWaWaWmGH!!!

Me: You should feel very privileged to be spanked by him. He’s a very saintly gentleman, he’s called St Michael.

C: (gasping) Yes, sir, I feel very privileged.

Me: His true owner is a venerable Irish monk called Father O’Flagerty who used him on many occasions on recalcitrant student bottoms. A dozen with him I think.

C: Oh, God, would that be a baker’s dozen?

Me: It would. Let us begin.

Under the ministrations of St Michael the bottom in my charge bounced this way and that. I was finding Carla to be quite noisy to spank.

C: Aah!! ONONONOooh! Yes, that’s GREAT!! YeeowowowowWOWW!!!

The Reverend and Saintly Gentleman did his job most thoroughly, at the end of which, Carla’s bottom was like a furnace. The lady herself was half on and half off my lap, skirt up and knickers down, panting for breath.

Me: (quite gently) Carla, are you alright?

She looked up from her half recumbent position and grinned.

C: Never better.

Me: Good, well, you can get up now, I think we’re finished.

Carla rose from my lap rather painfully and just looked at me, rather shyly.

Me: What’s the matter?

C: I got given a present. I’ve got something to show you. A friend bought me some bondage stuff. I was wondering if I could put it on for you?

Me: Only if I can spank you in it.

C: Wouldn’t have it any other way. Look, I don’t go for the pain stuff. I don’t want my tits clamped or anything like that. I quite like the blindfolds and the whole mystery of the thing. The touchy-feely stuff. I like all that.

Me: Well, if we’re going into that we’d better remove all trace of the schoolgirl, hadn’t we?

C: Yes, sir.

Within a very short space of time she was once more completely and delightfully in the buff. She went into a corner, opened an oversized holdall, knelt and reached down into its copious regions. The sight will always remain with me. That flamingly-rosy bottom upturned towards me, the legs unconsciously spread apart, the complete woman. This nymph was nattering away to herself like one demented.

C: Now, where the hell did I put those things. Shit! Don’t say I left them at home. Or in the restaurant? Jesus, what a thought. No. They’ve got to be here somewhere!

Her head went even further into the bag, which brought her bottom even further into view. A diabolical scheme entered my head. I withdrew the huge paddle (affectionately known as Geronimo) from my bag, crept over to the still kneeling Carla, judged my distance carefully, raised my arm above my head, when…

C: Got them.

Me: Oh, good.

C: Oh, my, sir. You weren’t going to take advantage of my poor little bottom, were you?

Me: Good heavens, no. I was merely about to whirl this thing round a bit to create a draught to fan you. You were looking a little hot.

C: (giggling) I’m sorry I misjudged you, sir. Now, you’re going to have to help me on with these. They’re a little stiff.

She produced a leather collar adorned with spikes, as is usual with that sort of thing. Then a pair of leather wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, what appeared to be a dog’s lead and finally a blindfold. Since your interviewer had never helped a lady into bondage gear before, it took some time. Eventually, however, there she was, looking very submissive.

C: You may blindfold me now. Then clip on my lead.

I did as I was bidden. Then spun her round until she had no idea where she was and was completely disorientated.

Me: Now, bend over the desk.

C: What desk?

Me: The one immediately in front of you.

C: Oh, that desk.

She did so, carefully feeling her way with her hands. I unclipped her lead and selected the same wooden paddle I had chosen earlier.

Whack! THEWack!! Thhwhopp!!

C: Ow! Thank you. Ohhhuh!! Thank you. Yipes!! Thank you!!!

Dear Reader. Knowing that this was to be my last interview, at least for the present, I had brought pretty well the full selection. Certainly those items for which I am most known.

Me: Nearly finished now. It’s getting late. I’ve one more experience for you.

C: And what’s that?

Me: My trusty flip-flop on a stick! Will’s Whacker.

Now in all my career as your own interviewer of ladies of all types, ages and sizes there is one ‘friend’ who has been with me through thick and thin. Arses large, small, bouncy, tight, tanned, African, Asian, translucent white and even smart!! (Mina Issue no. 30) have felt him; that is my flip-flop on a stick. He’s springy, versatile, stings like crazy, but never does harm. He’s good humoured, fun and has many brothers and sisters. (I have given him away to nearly all of my ladies as a memento of the occasion of their spanking, I mentioned this to Carla).

C: Can I have one too?

Me: You might not want it after I’ve used it on you now.

C: Well, let’s find out, shall we?

Me: I think we should. Go and get that high stool from the corner.

She did and brought it to the centre of the room.

C: Will you fasten my chain to the legs of the stool?

Me: Anything to oblige.

Have I mentioned that Carla is somewhat on the short side? When lying across the high stool, neither her head nor her feet came anywhere near the ground. She hung there, in suspended animation, her now comparatively pale bottom just waiting for the ministrations of the flip-flop. And did she get them! The fly swatter came down again and again on that ever-reddening bum, derriere, arse, backside, whatever it’s your pleasure to call it. For myself from childhood, it has always been the word ‘Bottom’ that has intrigued me…

And on that appropriate note it’s ‘Goodbye’ from Carla, many thanks to my dear and wonderful friend, Paula, Editrice Extraordinaire, and (for the moment) goodbye from me, from the BOTTOM of my heart!

Love and Best Wishes,

Will

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