Interview — A Lesson from Lucy

From Februs 25

Salutations, O growing band of readers of the immortal words of Will. When our intrepid Lady Editor, Paula, rang to inform me that a person, name of Lucy, was desirous to be interviewed by me, I felt that the name and description of the lady rang a bell. I just couldn’t quite place when, or where.

Me: Did Lucy say she knew me, by any chance?

P: Yes, Will. She thought she might have met you, that she’d read your interview, and in spite of that, she’s still interested. (This with Paula’s soft and inimitable giggle).

Me: Very funny, Boss. Can I ring her?

P: Yes, she’s expecting you.

The appropriate call was made, and I must say it was with a pleasurable feeling that I anticipated the arrival of Lucy.

The day dawned, and found Yours Truly frantically involved in much of the usual tidying, hoovering, and such like that is necessary to one who, in the early twilight of his years, is frequently alone. (Aaahh! I hear you sigh.) Whilst doing this, I stopped for one of my favourite daydreams. How wonderful it would be to have a housekeeper. Not, I might add, just an ordinary one, but a Mrs Mop that was into our own little speciality, Dear Reader. Namely BEING SPANKED. Age and looks would be immaterial. Just a nice easy view on life, and an ability to clean. But not too well, of course. Oh, yes, she would be wearing one of those floral overalls beloved of the domestics of years gone by. My daydream developed.

Me: (Running my finger across the drinks cabinet, and coming up with a digit full of dust) Mrs Southend, just look at my finger!

Imaginary Cleaning Lady: I’m sure it’s a very nice one, sir. But why is it pointing at me?

Me: It’s pointing at you, woman, because it is covered in filth!

I.C.L.: Then perhaps I should wipe it, sir?

Me: (Exasperated) It would not be covered in filth, if you had dusted the drinks cabinet within living memory.

I.C.L.: Oh dear, sir, I must have forgot. With the strain of having to pay off the second mortgage and all.

Me: We must not forget these things, must we, Mrs Southend? Now I take it you would like to keep your job?

A writer’s ploy frequently used in spanking stories to give the recalcitrant female a reason to agree to be spanked.

I.C.L.: (Almost incoherent) Oh yes, sir. Truly. Without the pittance you pay me whatever would I do? Please allow me to keep this splendid job cleaning up after you, sir.

Me: Very well, but you must be taught the error of your ways.

I.C.L.: Oh yes, sir, I must. Mustn’t I?

Me: And how would you propose I should do that, Mrs Southend?

I.C.L.: Well, sir, you could always remove my floral overall, pull up my sensible tweed skirt, drag down my voluminous drawers, and spank my ample and rather wobbly bare bottom ‘til the paleness associated with incorrect eating and no holidays for the last seventeen years gives way to a faint blush, which under your heavy and gnarled old hand will in turn be supplanted by a vivid rose, gradually ripening to bright scarlet, intermingled with several shades of purple.

Me: Well, I could do that, couldn’t I? If it would help. In fact I shall take your excellent advice, Mrs Southend. Bend over that chair at once.

In my somewhat vivid imagination I pulled up her skirt, rolled down her panties, revealing a beautifully bare and rounded bum, drew back my hand, and… the doorbell rang! My imaginary cleaning lady disappeared in an instant. I looked at my watch. Yes, indeed, this must be Lucy.

It was. She was a most attractive young woman, simply but well dressed in slacks and a well cut white top, under a smart and fashionable coat, which I took from her. I sat her down at my table, and pottered off to supply this maiden with coffee.

----//----

Me: We really have met, haven’t we?

L: Your face is familiar, but apart from that…

Then it dawned.

Me: You were at the PervFest, weren’t you?

The PervFest was held on the day of S.M. Pride at the Conway Hall, in the West End of London. There were seminars that day, rejoicing in names such as ‘Carol’s whipping demonstration’, and an S.M. guide to ‘Dog’ training. There were so many that I couldn’t partake of them all; but one I had marked down as a ‘Must’ was a specific CP demonstration run by a gentleman who seemed to know what he was doing. He was certainly ‘whipping up’ a good deal of enthusiasm about the subject when a commotion outside caused the entire audience to turn round towards the door. In Lucy’s words:

L: This other girl, a friend of mine, chased me into the room and started screaming at me. It was my partner and boyfriend who was doing the demonstration. We were so convincing that many of the audience didn’t realise it wasn’t real.

Me: Well, I certainly didn’t anyway.

L: I think the only thing that spoiled it — she should have dragged me up, and whipped me really hard then.

Me: Well, I can take up the story from there. Your partner bent you over a handy table and demonstrated his whipping techniques on your rather unprotected bottom. What was going through your mind at that time?

L: Well, I was enjoying it of course. Especially because he’s my partner in all ways. But I found myself wishing that the circumstances were more real.

Me: You’d have liked to be at home alone with him?

L: Not necessarily. I like a public whipping. I find it exciting. But I prefer the circumstances not to be contrived. It was improved by the fact that people had believed in the situation. But of course, we couldn’t lose ourselves in it, because it was basically a lesson.

Me: The circumstances were very different that evening, weren’t they?

L: Ah, you mean the S.M. Ball, in North London.

Me: You know I’m surprised that anyone had any energy left for that one, after the PervFest.

L: He certainly did. He really went to town on me. He has a large stock of whips, and I think he used them all on me that night.

Me: Yes, I could hardly bear to watch.

L: Managed it somehow though, didn’t you?

Me: Tell me something else about yourself!

L: I’m a member of a Pony Girl club.

Me: What on earth is that?

L: A lot of people are into being ponies, I’m not, but I do like to be whipped, and forced to do things, I’m an honorary member. And when I go, I get whipped to draw people along. It’s not that I think I’m a horse, or anything. I like the thought of being submissive in that way, and made to do things. There have been times when I’ve been really sweating, and absolutely exhausted, with my partner, but I just get up again. It kind of shows you the power of a heavy whipping, that it gets you to that point.

A long silence.

L: I think I’ve got quite a lot to say that’s really relevant to the spanking scene and the way that I feel about it. I am rather apprehensive about giving interviews, and being misrepresented. I’ve done interviews in the hope that I could get my point of view across, and then found that I’ve been represented in print as a complete bimbo.

Me: Be assured that that won’t happen here.

L: I write, and run my own business within the CP industry, and I’m an experienced photographer, and that side of me is seldom brought out. Because I’m blonde, not everybody portrays me as having any intelligence. They want to stereotype me. I chose you because I think you will put me over as I am. But I have been let down. And that has been frustrating sometimes.

Me: I believe that Februs has more female readers than any other spanking magazine. It’s edited by a woman who is passionately into the subject from a personal and of course, feminine point of view. Tell me about your writing?

L: Well, I’m doing a practical guide to corporal punishment from the receiver’s point of view [I think this must be a three-part feature that appeared in Janus 134-6]. What I wanted to do was work with people who’d never been spanked before, and people who wanted a more erotic spanking. I had a letter from this woman who wanted her husband to beat her, and her friend said, ‘I hope he’s warming you up!’ The reason she wrote was that she didn’t know what warming up meant.

Me: You seem to be performing a good service there. Any more letters?

L: I did have one from a woman who, with her husband, had become interested in CP. He had spanked her, and she’d enjoyed it, so they went to a fetish market; first Sunday in the month at Kings Cross, and bought a very large cane, because that was the way they thought it should be done. They got home, he bent her over the back of the sofa, took an almighty swing at her buttocks, no preparation of any sort, and broke the cane with the one and only stroke. She leaped in the air, clutching her bum, grabbed a vase off the mantlepiece, smashed it over his head, and knocked him clean out. She then tore up all their spanking mags, and walked out. Didn’t come back for three days. Now he’s not allowed to mention the subject. It’s people like that I need to help.

Me: You know, I’ve always believed that the best thing in the world to use is this! (Holding up my hand.)

L: I agree, but there are ways of being spanked which are very erotic for a woman. Unfortunately, some people really punch you. I know that sounds incredible, but it’s true. They don’t know what to do, and it hits your spine. Sometimes you get the ‘I can hit her harder than you!’ syndrome if you’re at a spanking party, or something like that. Don’t get me wrong. A hard whipping or caning can be wonderful, if it’s done right. What turns me on in my relationship is that my partner is very strict. That is really what I get off on. I mean I really am quite a bolshie sort of person, I find it erotic. Afterwards I’ve had an orgasm. It’s the reality of it. It isn’t necessarily for something I’ve done at the time, it could be for something that I did in the past, and he’s waited ‘til the appropriate time to do it. However, today, I want to play. I’ll go happily with anything you have in mind. In fact, I’ve brought a Victorian maid’s costume with me, I thought you might like that.

Me: As a period in history I might remember, you mean?

She smiled sweetly, and shrugged her shoulders.

Me: Thank you.

She kindly attempted to reassure me.

L: If I was being filmed, or doing it for a video, well, there’d be a scenario, but on this occasion, let’s go with anything you’d like, and see what happens, shall we?

You know, it’s funny, isn’t it, Dear Reader? But when someone offers you the world, well, it seems as if there is no limit. Like someone handing you a million pounds, and giving you an hour in which to spend it. All my thoughts dried up.

Me: Well, I think now would be a good time to start… er…

I stopped, without a clear idea in my head of what I was going to do, or how! Then the voice of the Good Fairy Julie (issue no. 21) came into my mind.

Remember those chairs you put back-to-back with the cushion over them?

Me: I’ll put these chairs back-to-back, and give you a cushion over them, and you can kneel there.

L: Ah, the Winchester position.

Me: Yes, Of course. (Mystified)

L: Do you want my skirt up?

Me: Yes, I think so.

Her skirt was svelte and slim, as indeed Lucy is herself. She eased it up, and her legs, hitherto largely unseen, came into view. Up it came still further, and an adorable pair of creamy, satiny knickers hove into view, completely covering what I felt was sure to be an enchanting bottom. The thought of this was too much for me, and I slipped my fingers into the waistband, and gently eased them down over the cheeks that were rapidly coming into view.

L: Ah, most people seem to like to spank over knickers first.

Me: Not me. I like to start with an alabaster bottom, and watch the colouring process as I go along, as it were.

L: Mmm. That’s fine.

By now, the silken undergarments were completely clear of her delightful bottom, which was, as I had anticipated, slim, but most beautiful. I started to spank that bottom with slow and leisurely upward strokes.

L: (Informatively, from her comfortable position over the back of the two chairs.) Ah, now that’s the American style.

I was, I suppose, finding these little bits of golden information rather helpful, but I began to see the drawbacks of spanking an expert, even one so charming as Lucy. I found myself beginning to grit my teeth.

Me: Is it now?

And returned to the fray with a little more asperity than had been my wont heretofore.

L: Now this is something that I would find very erotic in my partner. The upward motion of the cheeks either side are activating the…

Me: Yes, but since I’m not?

L: Exactly. It’s very nice anyway, though.

I carried on, rather feeling like a dog who has just had a bone thrown to him. The virgin whiteness of that delightful rump was beginning to colour now. And as I was coming from underneath, the lower part of her bottom was at its rosiest, gradually lightening towards the upper part of the cheeks. The bottom itself which had been rather stiff at first, had just begun to relax, and was bouncing nicely under my hand. We were both beginning to get into the rhythm of this: Quite hard, but slow and easy. Spank, Spank, Spank, Splatt, Spank, Spank, Spank.

Me: (Beginning to feel an exhilaration and at one with my work) Perhaps at this time you can remember some interesting experiences connected with spanking, since you are at this moment having your bare bottom thoroughly spanked? Whack, Whack, spank, Splatt!!!

L: (Ooh!) Yes, I am, aren’t I? Aaah!! Whoo!! Ouch!! Mmmmm! I’ll have to go back a bit for the one that really sticks in my — Ouch! — mind. Years ago, when I was first caned. I don’t mark much now. But I’d only just got started, and it was long before my current partner. My bottom was very virgin, and I’d had these incredible — Ooh! — lines across my cheeks. My partner at the time was, like me, not very experienced —that’s — Fwhoo! Huhh! — That’s nice, but — Wowww!!! — slow down a bit, but very hard — all arm, and not much finesse, but accurate enough. Well, I had to go to the gynaecological clinic for a scan, and they put your legs — Ow! Oww! OWWW!!! — they put your legs in these stirrups, and of course — Oohh! — your bottom shows. But the other way round. Not like bending over. The doctor came in, cos they were going to give me a smear test, and — Oww!! Owwowow — You do spank hard, don’t you? Well, he could see the lines on my bottom, and it was very, very, embarrassing.

Me: I bet it was.

L: But, then, the nurse called the doctor over and whispered to him, and he said: ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to have to bring some students in.’

Me: Oh, No!

L: Yes!! And he brought in about six or seven men and women while I was there with my legs up. There I was — Oww — with all these weals…

Me: Were they shocked, or did they giggle a bit?

L: I have no idea. I was too embarrassed to — YeeOWWW! — to look. I just had my eyes tight shut! — Whaa-agh!

These last expletives, Dear Reader, due to the fact that, without informing the lady, I had decided to rest my hand, which was rather numb, and replace it with my long five fingered tawse, which I held by the handle at one end, then lightly with the fingers of my other hand, held the thongs. Then I flicked it, so that it landed, catapult like, upon her naked bottom. A technique I had learned attending one of the lectures at the Conway Hall. This caused her whole back to arch, rather like an animal. Every stroke, apart from the light spanking with which I started, had its effect and none more so than the lashing she received from that tawse. The continual oohs, oww’s and aarghs just served to make the experience extremely exciting. Her stamina, however, was equal to any of the ladies it has been my privilege to spank. We finally rested. I don’t know about Lucy, but I really needed it.

Me: (Over coffee) Tell me more about yourself.

L: In what sense?

Me: In any sense.

L: You mentioned my childhood as a possible source for information. Well, I was never spanked as a child. In fact my childhood was the opposite. I was very undisciplined. Very unruly, Bolshie, aggressive, dominant. I had a mother who was a Sixties’ free thinker. She was too free, really. Go to bed when you like. Do what you like. Wear what you like. I actually wanted her to be stricter. I think that perhaps my need for discipline now is that I wanted some strictness in my relationships. I think it’s given me a need for that. And I think that to be punished — I need someone who is strict. Who not only likes to spank me, but really will. Who will stand up to me and keep me in my place. It’s a very balanced relationship that I have at the moment, and a very loving one. Really, I feel very comfortable with it.

Me: Do you like being over the knee, and the warmth that comes from that?

L: No, not really. There’s no position that I fancy in particular, I like situations that are real. When I was younger, I never fantasised about a strap, or a paddle, or a whip, because they’re all things which have to be made, and are a bit contrived, whereas I fantasised about someone taking off their belt, and hitting me with that. I wanted to be punished in a very real sort of way. Birches. Those I liked. Any breaking off of a branch, and then being thrashed with it.

At this time, I couldn’t help thinking of Sandy, (issue no. 15) whom I spanked in a wood, with Paula looking on, and taking the photos, got it? No? Then your collection isn’t complete yet, is it, Dear Reader? You must acquire it immediately!

Me: I understand that you started in the scene by going to clubs, and parties?

L: Yes, though, I have to admit I was very green, I had no idea you actually got paid! I came because I wanted to be spanked, and spanked hard, on my naked bottom. The money came as a surprise. A very nice one, but I’ve always been in a position where I could earn money in other ways, like writing, and that kind of thing. I was going to these places about three times a week, and I gradually went off it. Sometimes you got mistreated, or taken advantage of in some way, and I stopped enjoying it. So I stopped doing it. Then I was in a relationship with someone who wasn’t into it at all. Not in any way. Then I started to miss it again. I asked him to whip, or spank me, or beat me. He not only refused, but his reaction was the usual one. He was horrified. So I went through a process of thinking about it nearly all the time, and not doing it. You know, I began to think I never would get it right, because when I was in a spanking partnership, the rest of it was no good. Then I met my present partner. I now have the best of both worlds.

I rose from my chair.

Me: Do you have a cut off word?

L: No, I don’t. I would always suggest to people that they have one, but I don’t, ‘cos I feel I want to take everything that my partner gives me, otherwise it becomes not real.

I produced my huge wooden paddle, and I thought I detected a wish that she did have a cut off word.

Me: I think it’s time to introduce you to Geronimo!

L: (A little tentative) Oh, right. Yes!

Me: You may pull down your own knickers.

She did. But before that, she had that somewhat tight skirt to draw up over her delightfully white thighs. No hint of a suntan, natural or otherwise, here. May I say at this point that I have a very convenient ledge, looking down on my living room. I gestured towards it. She bent across it.

Me: You can always say ‘Stop!’ at any time.

L: Well, we’ll see.

She didn’t. In spite of a continual rain of whopps and splatts upon her once more starkly naked bottom from that terrifying implement and a pitiful succession of gasps and somewhat muted Oww’s!!, the word ‘STOP’ would not pass Lucy’s lips. In fact she was still able to answer my questions: albeit somewhat painfully.

Me: Is it the Whopp!! anticipation, do you think, that’s the best thing about being spanked? Thudd!!

L: Yes, perhaps — Jeez!! — but I do particularly like the after effect. The first couple of times, it was quite… Yowwps! Well, it gave me an orgasm I’d never quite had. Having that sensation was absolutely amazing.

By this time I had changed implements, and was now using my old friend ‘St. Michael’ or ‘The Slipper from Hell.’

Me: Is it still like that?

L: Yes, but l do cool down a bit more quickly — Oww! What the heck is that?

I showed it to her briefly, and then set about my task once more.

L: Oh, a slipper. It’s a long time since T was whacked with one of those — Yeeaagh!!

By now, that delightful bottom’s colour had not only returned to its former glory, it had far surpassed it!

After an exhausting but rewarding time, hopefully for both of us, I began to take the photos. She was a natural, as I am sure the results that you are now perusing, Dear Reader, will prove.

L: I like things to hurt. You can get things that really hurt that don’t make a sound, and I find that really infuriating because I’m going through all that pain, and nobody knows. It’s unfair. Talking of erotic things that I like, I was once at a party, and I was blindfolded, and tied to a post, and there was another girl there, and she was being beaten quite hard by her partner, and she was moaning, and crying, and the sound was incredibly erotic, and even now, often in my fantasies, I’m in a situation when people are being beaten, and emitting these amazing sounds.

Me: And what if it’s you?

L: Pardon?

Me: What if it’s you that’s being beaten?

L: Oh, yes, and other people listening, yes, that’s great, too. It would be good if women were prepared to express themselves more, like Paula does in Februs. Paula has already done so much for us by coming out and saying, ‘This is what I really do like. I don’t care what you think about me.’

Me: Any more fantasies?

L: Being a slave girl in Arabia, and all the other women beating me for any misdemeanour, and me running away, and getting caught, and then them really flogging me for that?

Me: Just the women?

L: No, maybe a male slave, a eunuch, because they would be harder, but it would have to be at the women’s instruction. I can’t see their faces, because they’re all covered, but I’m completely naked. The women get a real sexual kick about me being their slave, and punishing me.

I then told her about the fantasy I was having when she arrived. You remember, Dear Reader, the cleaning lady. She laughed.

L: I like that. I’m glad you shared that with me. Even if it was a typically male piece of erotica.

Me: (Grimly) Anything else?

L: Yes. Being a Victorian or Edwardian maid is my most frequent fantasy: being hauled up to the master’s study every night for a beating. But the thing that’s the turn on is not so much the thrashing that he gives me, it’s the thought that — it’s the power — if he really was the master of the house and you were a Victorian maid — you’d be so frightened of him. If you lost your job, you’d be in such dire straits that you really would have to do whatever he demanded, and they were so modest, they’d — she’d never been seen naked by anyone, so when he pulls her knickers open, the shame of a man doing that let alone beating her bottom, would be awful.

Me: (With, I must confess, mounting excitement) You’ve brought a maid’s outfit with you, haven’t you?

L: Yes. Including the open knickers.

I like bits of knickers flapping about, and exposing other parts.

Me: Well, I think it’s about time you got into that, don’t you? And as soon as possible.

She did, and while she did, I started to think how I would approach the coming scenario. I needn’t have bothered. She entered the front room. The costume was all in one piece. I’m not at all sure that it was correct from a period point of view, but sexy, it certainly was.

L: I have come for my chastisement, sir. I can only try to redress the awful embarrassment I must have given you when I dropped a fork upon the floor, and attempted to put it back upon the table without your noticing. Of course, you did, and so did your poor guests. Lady Myrtle insisted that you beat me unmercifully, and with that, sir, I heartily concur. But, sir. (and here the bottom lip trembled convincingly. What an actress!) She also mentioned something about dismissing me! Thrash me if you will, and how you will, sir! But if I am sent away without a reference, sir. Well, may God have mercy upon me, sir!

Me: (The old Ham, as ever) Well, child, I must consider this. What is the use of a maid that drops forks?

L: Oh, I never will again, sir.

She must have seen a softening in my eyes.

L: Oh, I knew you couldn’t do it, sir. You’re a good gentleman, sir, and may God bless you! Look, sir. (Producing my cane from behind her back) I took the liberty of bringing your cane from your study, sir, to save you the trouble. Will you be so kind as to give me six of the best, sir, only of your pity, do not throw me out!

I must have a word with Editor Lady Paula Meadows, and suggest some sort of a spanking Oscar for the most convincing performance from an interviewee. Lucy would win it hands down, and bottoms up, because she had pushed the sofa to one side, and had up-ended herself over it, waiting for the first of the dozen strokes about to descend upon her poor backside. My front room is rather small for this kind of thing, so various knick-knacks had to be moved out of the way. This having been done, I returned to the task.

Me: You must draw your knickers apart, child.

She did, and that beautiful bottom once more hoved into view. I picked up the cane, and measured my distance.

L: I deserve this, sir.

Me: Say nothing, child, but bear your coming punishment with a good grace.

The cane descended with a Swissshhh! and a Craa-ack! The buttocks before me leaped involuntarily. The soft moan that came from her was pitiful.

Me: Five more, child!

I do not know how she took the rest of the caning, but take it she did. The mark of all six strokes was plain to see criss-crossing her bottom. When it was over, it was time for both of us to go. Lucy changed back into her normal clothes. The warmth that had developed between us was more than the heat emanating front those buttocks. It so happened that I had been summoned to the abode of Dame Paula for dinner, so I asked for a lift to Kings Cross, and got it. We sat in traffic for what seemed an age, relieved only by some charming conversation. At length, we stopped in front of the station. A warm goodbye, and off to Paula’s for what turned out to be a delightful visit to her local restaurant.