Letters from Uniform Girls 28

After this one, I will give the correspondence postings a bit of a break and post some Join the Dots features in their place on Tuesdays.

Dear Sir,

Plenty of stick, that’s what they want when they misbehave, and I think Blushes has got it off to a fine art. I am particularly pleased to note that we are now dealing with ‘young women’ and not young ladies.

For my money, I enjoy reading how these posh birds get a dose of what does them good and when it comes from a man from the ‘other side of the tracks’ all so much the better.

I have never seen a spanking, more’s the pity, but my mate assured me that what happened between him and some lah-dee-dah bird really did happen. It seems that when he was working down Surrey way, in some outlandish district, he went into what he thought was a pub for a drink. It was hot, he tells me and he wanted a pint. There was no Public Bar so he bowls into the Saloon. Midday this was and it seemed that when he walked in, the air could have been cut with a knife. He was as welcome as a pair of sewerman’s boots at a Royal Wedding. There were some real tweeds and briar pipes that certainly felt affronted that my mate could use the place. They considered that it was their place you see, and anybody strolling in especially as Dave would, wearing workman’s gear was certainly not on.

Anyway, there was also sitting in a corner a real angel-like bird. You know, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and all that, and Dave tells me that this bird starts to give him the eye. Now I must tell you that Dave uses his small van as a love machine… you know what I mean, he likes to have a girl in his van so he keeps it looking like a clean bedroom. He’s nobody’s fool is Dave because much to everybody else’s horror if you like, he starts to chat this woman up. One of the old squire’s very upper class and all that tells Dave that the woman has only been married for three months and that her husband is away in the Army or something like that. Dave feels that this piece of news is something to be exploited.

The upshot of all this is that he arranges to see her privately at her own home. There was a distinct sigh of relief when he walked out of that place and he could feel the tension leave with him. But he had already made this assignation with Debbie.

Now, David swears this is true. He went along there that night and it turns out to be a sort of demi-castle she lives in. Her husband is much older than she and is a Colonel or something and she felt that he might be better if he was her father; he was old enough. What she is really missing is having a very real man about the place. Dave’s mind is all wound up with getting his rocks off and when she tells him that a real man would soon have her in a position where he could wallop her bum, Dave is at a loss.

She invites him upstairs and Dave is still set on giving her a shot between the legs and in her bedroom is all powder, cream and puffs. She strips down as calmly as you like and stands there showing Dave a body the like of which he has never seen before. He swears that it is all smooth as silk. Then she produces this riding crop and demands that Dave puts it across her arse! She crawls to the end of the bed and pushed herself into a right bum-thrusting position and Dave is not used to this sort of thing. He made a few clumsy attempts to raise hell on this bird’s backside, but it seems that she is not satisfied and she says something that produces the necessary heat in Dave’s right arm…

‘You Londoners are all the same,’ she sneered. ‘All mouth and trousers and it takes a real Shire man to show you what it is all about.’

‘You just stay bending Lady Muck,’ snarls Dave. ‘And if you move I’ll raise more weals on your lilywhite arse than you will be able to count.’ Then, he says, he really punishes her backside and the harder he brings it down the more she likes it. But when she calls out ‘Enough’ he tells her that enough will only be when he says so… so she gets another dozen and when he is like a stallion in heat she grabs him and takes him for the hottest ride he has ever had! She couldn’t get enough of him. He went there several times after that until one of the locals thought he would take advantage of the Colonel’s absence and went strolling up there on one of Dave’s visiting times. I don’t think Dave got his trousers back even before he got to the van. Fancy leaving the van where it could be spotted. Plenty of prick, no brains, that’s Dave.

Aren’t some people strange though. Fancy a woman wanting to get thrashed before getting screwed. Don’t you think that is odd?

Freddy Barnes, Dagenham

Editor: No, we don’t think it strange at all Freddy. This is the first anecdote we have ever received in this form. Quite enjoyed reading it too. Thank you.

Dear Editor,

I am not too sure that I agree with the spanked ladies having to write to the magazine and I feel certain that there are enough men to do it anyway. However, I have been instructed to write to you and so I have to do so. From the manner of my opening remarks you will have gathered that I am one of the young women who has to do as she is told with no ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’.

It is not my husband who has instructed me to write but my employer. There have often been letters and stories on this theme and me, being only twenty two years of age could quite easily fit into any of the categories where an expression of passive acceptance is the order of the day. I am not a meek person by nature and have been told that I am quite vivacious and that my husband is a very lucky man in having me for a wife.

My boss has a distinct method of correcting errors. He is a cane man. The first introduction I had to his austere method was when he offered me the usual alternative. I could not face the ignominy of going home to tell my husband that I had been fired; like most first time house buyers we were very dependent on my income, and I did mean very dependent. Jobs are scarce enough without my going on the dole queue. So I accepted the spanking. It was an over the knee and on the skirt job and it stung, although I cannot claim that my bottom was black and blue afterwards. It stung, it was meant to, but it did not last into the evening and the following morning, although I blushed when I met the boss again, there was no ill effects. I felt sure that had I told my husband the bizarre nature of my being spanked would probably have met with his approval. He’s strange like that!

I had been warned that the next time it would be the cane and on the bare. That was the embarrassing thing and it made me squirm at the very idea. I still had a choice of course. I think my boss must have known that no matter what he offered I would be bound to accept. And, yes, I did blunder again. This time was much, much worse than before. I shall never forget that afternoon when he told me briskly to drop my panties. I do not wear tights because they are so restrictive, but I was wearing the traditional black stockings and suspender belt. I had agreed to take six strokes of the cane. Lifting my skirt was the hardest thing I think I have ever had to do.

There seemed no hurry to get me to bend over because he was able to study the shock of pubic hair as I awkwardly stood displaying my thighs, tummy and all that area to his searching gaze. Then he had me kneel on a high-backed chair… then bend over… my mouth was dry with sheer humiliation. I was very conscious of what I was revealing too. He told me to keep my knees parted and with the full over-the-chair-back pose, my bottom was roundly, nakedly thrusting into the right position for the caning. I got precisely six and they cut deep into my memory as well as the fleshy nates so perfectly poised. I cried out as each soul-burning stroke landed. And even when he had given me that last stroke I was still ordered to remain bent right over. His fingers traced over each line and this was added misery. My work improved noticeably.

I am sure your readers will enjoy the twist to this narrative. The last punishment I received was at my own insistence! I really did beg him most earnestly not to fire me and to punish me himself in whatever fashion he thought would fit the occasion. He had offered me no choice, you see. He just told me that I was fired; no offer of cane, spanking or anything else. The situation at home was still tight and so I pleaded very hard for the boss to punish me as hard as he liked and as many times as he thought would fit the ‘crime’. He reflected, but kept me waiting in a stew until the evening. He would deal with the matter first thing tomorrow and I thanked him profusely. I was sent home in a state of blended gratitude and fear for the next day.

So, he did ask me if I had changed my mind and once again, iterated that I could pack and go if I liked. No, I did not want to go I assured him. I had to then lock the door. Then came the thunderbolt. He wanted me completely undressed. Every stitch off. He gave me the impression that he did not care whether I accepted or not. In five minutes I was standing next to his chair. I was quite, quite naked and my hands were at the back of my head pulling back on my elbows as his hands fondled my titties. He did touch me in other places too but the strange shock of shame and erotica was a confused set of emotions that I never want to respond to again.

I was then ordered to bend over the desk so that my breasts crushed onto the cold polished wood. The hollow of my back had to dip to enhance the full rounded orbs of my bottom. He gave me twelve hard strokes, and they were truly very whippy. He took his time over the delivery too and it seemed to me that I stayed there wriggling and hip grinding for an eternity.

Then he had me over his knee, not to spank but to rub, play and feel every little part that he could see as I stretched so perfectly placed for his punishment.

I still work for the same boss. I still make mistakes and now I have to strip off every stitch no matter how small the error. It has become the order of the day now.

Stella Drew, Edinburgh

Dear Sir,

I do not think I have ever seen a pictorial presentation so well done as that in Blushes 41, A Walk in the Country, pages 33 and 34 especially. In my view, the camera has caught very creditably the nuance of how a woman really appears when she is bent over the end of a bed. I thought the concept of legs together and then stretched wide apart was particularly a brain wave on somebody’s part and the resulting photography proves my point.

And that model’s bottom (together with the rest of her) was truly a real posture of a naughty young lady. The hands so properly placed in the small of her back was also a well intended addition, I think this is how a maiden should be made to pose when she knows that her business end is about to ignite. Just thought I would write to give you my unstinted appreciation of how I felt about that set or portrayals.

David Winters, Sussex

Dear Editor,

I would like to tell you about a girl I met while working in France about 25 years ago. I speak French fluently and was working on my university thesis Mental Institutions in France. Naturally this necessitated my staying in such an institution in order to get first hand experience. Most of the nurses were male as the work was very physical and sometimes dangerous, the female nurses that were there were generally big hard-faced cows who looked like they were straight from the Russian front, this is except one. Her name was Charntell and it is about her the story I am about to relate.

Charntell was not big like the other nurses but was athletic and strong, both in character and physically but it was still a wonder how she kept all her charges in check. It seemed she had a very close following of the more physical inmates who in turn helped her keep the rest in line. This was indeed unusual but I just could not see what power she held over them. I became very devious in my observations of their inter-relationships, and even hid myself completely. I soon discovered sexual intimacy on a purely touching and hand caressing basis, she would lean forward against a bench or wall and allow her out-thrust bottom to be touched or rubbed, this was always with her uniform in place and never against bare flesh. I myself found this quite exciting and wanted to learn more, but to no avail. I then decided to take the bull by the horns and approach her on the matter. I discovered when she was doing a night shift to talk. I made my way to her section which was at the far end of the main building. You can imagine my excitement when still some 30 yards away from one of the side rooms I heard the quiet distinct slap of flesh followed by the sexy whimper of Charntell. Looking through the crack of the door, I could see 3 inmates, Charntell was laying across the desk with her uniform pulled up and knickers down, two of the inmates were holding one arm each while the third slowly and methodically spanked the thrusting bottom before him, in between each slap he would caress the reddened bottom intimately. After a few minutes they all changed around and it was another’s turn to do the spanking, as they changed Charntell made no attempt to get up from the table making it obvious she was a willing party. She was getting very turned on by all this and eventually reached a climax.

I did not enter the room but slipped away quietly. When I revealed my findings to her later she was quite unabashed and we soon became good friends, needless to say we also soon developed our own little sessions. Please find enclosed some rather old colour snaps, you may use them if you can and however you like but please don’t use my proper name as my position in society requires a somewhat different attitude, outwardly that is.

K.L.M., Banstead, Surrey

Editor: The photos will do nicely, a couple are published here, and we NEVER reveal our sources so others may write in with confidence.

Dear Sir,

I must say that Blushes and the other publications coming from your company certainly manage, certainly in most cases, the full picture of a young woman in distress when she knows she is to be punished.

I have no particular choice or fancy as far as her mode of dress is concerned, although I do prefer to see the panties down. I feel that a young woman standing demurely, hands behind her back, her whole front completely exposed leaves nothing to be desired in my book. In this pose she is capable of being made to stand for long periods, whilst, standing with hands on the head, certainly enhances the stature of her breasts, but this can, after a while look clumsily presented.

I recall when I was a Physical Training instructor in the army, when women underwent their training under male supervision, how the recruits would come in and after half an hour gymnastic training would look like a parade of bedraggled has-beens. Those who were real stragglers and malingerers were soon spotted and earmarked for special attention by all the training staff, whether Drill Instructors or we members of the Physical Training Corps.

There was one particular young blonde, who probably felt that she was something special because she would give the impression that PT was just not her scene. I think she also felt that she would prefer to do her training in the horizontal position. Not a tart exactly, but certainly a good looker and one who gave the impression that she was alright between the sheets.

After the ten weeks introductory training I decided to have words with her. She had one of those ‘I’m from the upper crust and was educated at Roedean’ type voices and this surprised me when I called her to the company office to tell her of her failed marks. I was surprised that she paled visibly and said something like ‘Oh my God. Whatever will daddy say?’ Honestly I just could not believe my ears. It turned out that daddy was something special in the upper echelon in the army. Up to then it was obvious that daddy had been her protector. I told her that no way was I prepared to bullshit her marks. She was so terribly sorry Corporal… she did so want to make it to OCTU don’t you know… I felt my heckles rising by the minute… and in the end I told her that she merited a bloody good hiding because she was a shirker. To my surprise even further, she agreed! You are right Corporal she comes across with… ‘Now or later?’ Just as though she was saying your place or mine. I told her that I would see her in the gym at 19.30 hours that night.

She turned up in tight gym shorts that left more of her backside showing than they covered… I gave her some thirty minutes intensive training and she came through with flying colours as well as having her shapely breasts pop out over the top of her vest, the gym shorts worked their way into the crease of her lovely bottom and this she seemed to emphasise each time she had occasion to turn her back to me. I let her shower and she still had to put those skimpy clothes back on… I stayed with her to increase the shame of being watched by a man as she soaped herself…

‘How did I make out?’ she asked as she dried herself briskly.

‘You have just proved that you were malingering,’ I told her.

‘But will I pass?’ she wanted to know.

I begrudgingly agreed that she was fit enough to take on further training. ‘And the punishment?’ she asked quietly almost invitingly.

Now what do you do with a woman that asks such a question?

In the empty gymnasium I took her, still stripped. She mounted the leather hide gym horse and spread her legs over the sides. This blonde beauty was in every sense of the word a blonde all over and as she straddled the horse, she proved it. I had my thin stick and gave her a dozen really hard swipes across her proffered nates and when she scurried down she certainly rubbed the lined nates of her backside. She was not crying but there was a dewy look about her eyes. She even said ‘Thank you, Corporal, will that be all?’

That is the only occasion I have caned a bare bottom, but the experience will stay with me for the rest of my life.

C Fullerton, Aldershot

Dear Editor,

How about one of your excellent illustrated stories being written about a girl who, having been earlier initiated MOST unwillingly into CP by her older cousin Gillian, swears revenge assisted by her two flatmates. They lure Gillian to their flat, ‘innocently’ entice her to lean through the servery hatch to take hold of a tray of drinks etc — whereupon the hatch, suitably cut away in a semicircle at its lower edge, is swiftly slid down, and secured on the side furthest away from the victim. Gripped by the hatch, Gillian is then leisurely stripped naked except for stockings and suspender belt, and the girls take it in turns to torment and spank Gillian’s invitingly parted buttocks while the other two sit in the kitchen watching the expressions on her face and ordering her to tell them what is being done to her. You could even have one of them ring a boyfriend inviting him to come round, while Gillian has to listen to the phone call. Then all three girls would stay in the kitchen while the boyfriend would go straight into the lounge — what a vision — what a position!

Incidentally whenever the girls in your stories start off by being full dressed PLEASE show her fully dressed in the first picture(s) of the accompanying illustrations — it’s the later contrasts that prove mind-blowing!

Thanks,

L W Leigh