The Februs Interview — Luna Winter

Janus model (The Chastening of Loretta Amaro, The Big Four-O) and Cheek to Cheek actress (Dance School I, Dance School II —Dancing Discipline, Dance School III —Triple Trouble, Secretarial College) Luna Winter is interviewed by Will Scarlet. From Februs 20.

Well here we are, with a Will again, oh faithful readers. Shortly after New Year, our amazing Lady Editor, Paula Meadows, and her husband, honoured my humble maisonette for dinner. Paula brought me a copy of The Janus Collection in which she looks back over her years as illustrator and model for Janus. The book contains over a hundred of the drawings which she did during her time with that illustrious magazine.

There are also photos of Paula herself, in action!! If you haven’t already ordered or bought this from your newsagent, you will of course be wanting to now. Go on! My interview will still be here when you get back.

The meal being over, the conversation turned to our mutual interest and Paula asked me whether I had met any of the other contributors to Janus or Februs. I had to admit I hadn’t, as the world of journalism, when one works from home, can be a rather solitary one.

P: Then, Will, it’s high time you did.

Me: Paula, I agree. I would love to meet some of the other fellows.

P: Will, who said anything about fellows?

Me: Ah, your lady contributors! Well, I’m sure I could find time to go and…

P: She will come to you. Her name is Luna. She has seen your work, and feels that your two literary minds, combined with the activity she likes so much, might produce an interesting interview.

Me: And the lady’s name?

P: She writes under her own name. Luna Winter.

Me: I know that name. She’s made some films, hasn’t she?

P: Yes, and done some live revue, I believe, but mainly she writes.

----//----

The appointed day dawned. Luna had asked to be met at my local Tube station. I was early, but Luna was waiting for me. My first impression was one of height. Luna is by a good four inches the tallest lady I have interviewed, and in all my career, certainly the tallest whose bottom I expected to spank. This was a lady I could certainly look up to.

We finally attained my little maisonette, and ascended the stairs. Once in the dining room I was able to study her properly. I have to say, that with all the good-looking women I have interviewed, not only is Luna Winter the tallest, but she is without doubt one of the most beautiful. Long rich dark hair. Slim, but beautifully proportioned. And if there were a prize for best dressed spankee she would certainly get it. A dark jacket with a matching flowing skirt, and a hat, which topped off the whole thing beautifully.

Luna removed the jacket and sat at my table while I was preparing our meal, and looked through the past Will Scarlet interviews which I had laid out for her. With rather too professional an eye, I thought.

L: You are very funny. Not romantic, but funny.

Me: Glad you think so, I’m sure.

Luna is from Italy. She has been here since the late Eighties. Her English is excellent, but redolent with her attractive native accent. I should also say at this point that her sense of humour is perverse, and dry.

L: It is very hot here. I think you have put the heating up to make me take off my clothes.

Me: Ah, you’ve sussed me out. But I like what you’re wearing.

L: I’m wearing what I like to wear.

She was so beautifully dressed that I had to take some pictures of her dressed as she was. While she was. If you see what I mean! She was an excellent subject, and moved beautifully. I hope that my poor talents as a photographer will allow this to be obvious.

When this short session was over, we settled down to eat, and I began the interview.

Me: Luna, apart from your interest in spanking, you have had some success as a model. What got you into modelling as such?

L: I have always enjoyed my body. I like the look of it. I am an exhibitionist, I suppose. When I came to England, many people told me I looked like the singer and film star, Cher. I did some appearances as a lookalike, and then I started getting offered work as a nude model.

Me: Was this difficult at first? Taking your clothes off to be photographed?

L: Not really. The photographers that work for magazines just look at you as part of their work. It is in their interests that you should be relaxed. They are kind and friendly, and put you at your ease.

Me: Were you interested in spanking at that time? How did you get into that? Was it part of your upbringing?

L: No, it wasn’t, really, but when I was introduced to it, it seemed as if it had always been part of me.

Me: Was any one person instrumental in this?

L: Yes, I have a great friend, who was very interested in it. Through her I did my first spanking photo shoot. I had just got married at that time, and I introduced her to my husband. He also became interested, and she and I used to spank each other’s bare bottoms in front of him, and sometimes he would spank me, and she would watch. We are still very good friends with her.

Me: Just friends?

L: Oh, yes. My husband and I are very faithful. But we are soulmates. We share confidences. When I am feeling bad, I have only to ring her up. It’s good to have a girlfriend.

By this time we were drinking our coffee.

Me: If you could run this spanking session, what would you do? How would you prefer to be spanked?

L: It doesn’t make much difference, because I don’t think from the female point of view there is a position which is comfortable. I don’t think it is a comfortable thing.

Me: Is this good or bad?

L: It’s good when, and I agree with my friend over this, it happens very suddenly, unexpectedly, like you don’t know it’s going to happen, then, Whack!! After, you think, that was nice. The other way to do it is slowly, when you’ve built up to it.

Me: Do you like the drama of spanking? The last lady I ‘dealt with’ shall we say, did a scenario as a nurse. Do you like that sort of thing?

L: I’m not sure. I think I do, some of the time. I’ve made some films, and some tapes, and I’m getting experience in acting, but in the…

Me: And of course, that is where you get it…

L: Stop it, you’re naughty, you’re making me laugh and this is serious.

As I was saying, no matter what the circumstances of the story; I mean, sometimes I’m a naughty schoolgirl, sometimes a secretary who makes the blots, sometimes a housewife who had spent the housekeeping money, it’s always the same in the end… stop it! Stop laughing!… you always end up over someone’s knee, or the wooden horse thing, or a table, or a bench. You always have your poor little panties pulled down round your ankles, and your bare bottom spanked with a tawse, or a martinet or a slipper or a cane or — or a hairbrush, or a very hard hand till it’s pink, and then bright red, and then maybe purple. Anyway, it’s always the same. I think I like a surprise.

Me: Oh, you do, do you? Well I’m going to give you a surprise now. I’m going to tell you to get up! (She did.) And I’m going to tell you to bend over the table. (She did!) And now I’m going to lift up that lovely long skirt of yours.

I did, and with no protest from her, not even resignation. Underneath the skirt she was wearing lacy elegant black panties. To call them knickers would be to debase them utterly. They were the aristocrats of scanties.

What else was there, apart from the tight jumper, and the two beautiful mounds that were giving the classic underwear its shape? She was wearing an equally elegant pair of self-support stockings.

Me: Now, Luna, I’m going to pull down your panties.

I did. I found myself surveying the most gorgeous heart-shaped bottom. All she was wearing on her nether regions now was her black stockings, framing that beautiful bottom.

L: (Cheekily) So I am bending over the table, my bottom is bare. But where is the surprise?

Me: Close your eyes.

L: Must I keep them shut?

Me: If you want a surprise.

L: OK I trust you. (She closed her eyes.)

Me: You can open your eyes any time you want to.

L: It’s because you say things like that, that I know I won’t want to. Ooh!

This ‘Ooh’ because my hand brushed across her bottom, gently, but with a rhythm, backwards and forwards.

L: I know, I am supposed to guess what you are using on my poor little bum. Well, Mister Cleverdick, that is your hand, and please don’t stop, ‘cos that is very warm, and nice. You have a nice touch, but I expect you’re going to go harder, aren’t you?

Me: Yes, I expect I am.

And with that, the rhythm and the pace increased. My hand started to land with more sound, and considerably more energy behind it. In fact, these were real spanks.

L: Oh, that’s much harder now! Ooh! Aah! Oh, OWWW!

My hand was now raining slaps on the gorgeous bouncing bottom before me.

L: (Spank!) Uh-Uh- Uh!! (Spank) OoHoww! (Splatt!) Ohhaah! Oh, stop!

Me: Right! (I did!)

L: No, don’t! More!

Me: Harder?

L: Yes, I think so-Oo-owwowwoww!

Luna’s bottom cheeks were now a vivid, flaming red. And still I spanked, and still her bottom jiggled jumped and bounced. Eventually, I slowed down, and finally stopped.

L: Shall I open my eyes?

Me: Yes, you can, for a moment. Luna, I think our readers would like you to take off the rest of your clothes.

L: Your readers would. This has nothing to do, then, with the wishes of Mr Will Scarlet?

Me: Of course not. Purely for the readership.

This was my story, and I was sticking to it.

L: Sure, I don’t mind. (With a sly smile.) If it’s for your readers.

She crossed her arms, took hold of her sweater, pulled upwards, and off it came. Underneath, a chic black bra. She reached behind her, undid it, and her beautifully proportioned breasts fell free. She moved her shoulders from side to side appreciating the freedom it gave her. Then she placed one foot on a handy chair, and peeled down and removed her stocking. She then followed with the other, and stood before me, looking breathtakingly beautiful.

Me: Thank you. Now close your eyes, and bend over that table again.

If you are an avid reader of Old Will’s column, you will know of my love affair with my fly swat. The one with the child’s flip flop on the end of a very bendy handle. I like it because it makes a wonderful sound. It swishes through the air, and comes down with a most satisfying crack! If you build up slowly, you can eventually use more or less full force, and never in a million years would you be able to do the lady the slightest injury.

Me: Now then, Luna, what’s this?

I brought my arm back to its fullest extent, and down it came. Whapp!

L: Yeeaagh!

Me: What is it, Luna. What am I using?

L: I think — Ooh that stings. I think it’s a slipper. No! It’s lighter than a slipper. It’s very strange. The after feeling comes very quickly with this. Use it some more. I’ll try to guess.

Being something of an old fashioned gallant, I hate to disappoint a lady, so I did use it some more. A lot more in fact.

L: It’s spongy, but quite hard, Oww! Oooh! and it’s got a little knot in the middle — what’s that? Ouch! Aah! What a stingy little thing you are, Mr Shoe on a stick. For that is what you are, aren’t you? Ooh! Ooh! You are making my poor little bottom sting, you brute. I will break you… mmm-aah! I will break you in half… ouchouchouch!!!

Me: You know something, Luna? Whack! Thwack! Thump!! You are absolutely nearly right. Splatt! Whump!! But we’ll take a little rest, now. You can open your eyes again.

She did, and still flat over the table she twisted her head sideways and saw the offending object.

L: Oh, is that what you are? Come here. I’ll break you up!

Me: Oh, no. This little fellow lives to fight another day.

Luna pouted.

L: (Very dignified.) Please I would like to get up, now.

Me: Of course.

L: Now I want to look in a mirror, and see what that little devil has done to me.

Me: For that you will have to come downstairs.

L: Alright. Is this the way?

Me: Yes, it is.

Luna strode off downstairs naked as the day she was born, with myself in her wake, carrying the tape recorder, still switched on, predating the flaming redness of her most elegant and still naked bum, as it switched from side to side, proud and unconcerned at the indignities that had so lately been heaped it.

Me: On your left.

We entered. The front of the wardrobe at the end of the room is taken up with a huge mirror, full length. Luna looked into it extremely delightfully full frontally. (Her fringe of jet black pubic hair was shaved in the mohican style.) Having examined herself for a moment, she turned, bent over towards the mirror, and studied her bottom. She burst out laughing.

L: My word, just look at that colour.

Me: I am, I am!

L: That is really red. You know this is the bit I like best. The after feeling. I am on fire, but not too much. It is nice. Very nice. I like looking at myself too. I am an exhibitionist.

Me: Yes, I rather thought you might be.

L: I want you to spank me here, over your lap, in front of the mirror, so I can see. Will you do this?

Me: Yes, of course. But first let us have a little break and continue with the interview.

We went upstairs, and continued over coffee. The upstairs part of my maisonette is very warm, so Luna sat in front of me delightfully and, may I say, disconcertingly nude. She has the most beautiful breasts, generous, but with the baby pink nipples of a young girl.

Me: Do you like the person who’s spanking you to be in charge, or do you like to be in control?

L: I like to be in control. And I like to be at ease with my spanking partner.

Me: Now, the thing we haven’t talked about yet, is your writing. What triggered it off? What made you decide to write?

L: I have written poetry for some time. When I was young, I wrote in Italian, of course, but since I came over I have written it in English. I showed some of my work to the editor of Janus, just after I had posed for a spanking story. He asked me if I could write in prose as well, and I said ‘yes’ and he said: ‘You’ve got two weeks,’ and the result was Simonetta. An autobiographical mindscape.

Me: Gosh, and how did that go down?

L: I was pleased. I got some good letters as a result.

Me: I have of course read it, and I think it’s both well written, and unusual. And the fact you got some feedback means there are a lot of intelligent folks out there who agree with me. What kind of erotic writing do you like to read?

L: Writing about spanking mainly, of course, but anything that is mysterious, and romantic. I’m not a feminist, but I do think that women write better about these things. I like reading Anais Nin. She was with Henry Miller, of course. When I was with my husband in Belgium, we used to do a live sex show, and we called ourselves Henry and Anais.

Me: Tell me more about these shows.

L: They are like peep shows in England. You pay, and see something, and then the shutter comes down, and you pay more, and see more.

Me: And what did one see?

L: Well, everything.

Me: (The dogged, get to the root of it reporter…) Like what?

L: Well, we do twenty minutes in the hour, on the hour, and basically, it’s what normal couples do in bed. Kissing, cuddling, stroking each other, then covering each other in baby oil. That’s nice.

Me: Then what?

L: What do you mean, then what? Aren’t you supposed to be a writer? Don’t you have imagination?

Me: Yes, but right now, I don’t have to use it. Come here.

I held out my hand to her, and she took it. I pulled her persuasively over my lap, and spanked her bare bottom. Six resounding slaps. Both her bottom and her breasts jiggled beautifully. Then I released her.

L: Ow, ooh! I wasn’t expecting that! Beast. Now, thanks to you, I am a feminist!

Me: I thought you liked the unexpected.

L: Yes, I do, I suppose. But you are interrupting my train of thought.

Me: Right, now answer my questions and don’t be so cheeky.

L: Well, we do what people who love each other do. We make love. We use many different positions. We do what we like to do in private, but we do it in public, too. It’s exciting, and we get paid for it.

Me: Is it better, or worse, than in private?

L: Neither, really. It’s just different. I like it because I am an exhibitionist, I think. My husband not so much. But he likes it in public too.

Me: Do you perform, for example, fellatio on him?

L: Of course, and we both love the 69 position. We spend some time in the year in Europe, and treat it as a holiday, but it is always nice to come home. I am a British girl now.

I then asked a question which I am also asking you, dear reader.

Me: In number eighteen, there is a letter written by someone who suggests that we enthusiasts should have a number to ourselves that people could recognise us by. 69 is universally known for what it represents. We could have the figure Thirty One for obvious reasons.

L: I don’t think I understand.

So I wrote it out for her. 31.

Me: Look, 31!

L: (Giggling) Oh, now I understand.

Me: Good. And he suggests that we could have badges made up, or something like that. So we could all recognise each other.

L: This is, I think, a good idea. Very good.

Me: Anyway, carry on.

L: Well, we do everything together, and because we like it, he spanks me sometimes.

Me: And do they like it?

L: I think they do. In fact I know they do. But in the end they want me to go down on him, which I do very well, and enjoy. Then there should be penetration. And we do that too. We use very nice Kama Sutra music, and are quite sensual. In fact, we think of ourselves as teachers. Look, this is how it should be done. My husband is very slow and gentle. We like to teach sex. And sometimes we will do it for young couples, or older couples.

Me: Do you ever involve the watchers in your sex?

L: No, not really. Sometimes we invite couples to watch us, and they make love together while we do. But we are faithful.

Me: Always?

L: Well, before I met my husband I had some very bad experiences with men. So I decided to be a lesbian.

Me: Is that something you decide? I thought it was something that was decided for you. That you didn’t have a choice.

L: Well, I really thought of myself as one for some time, and even now, very, very, very occasionally, I will have a sexual experience with a woman, with my husband’s consent.

Me: Now, Luna you have brought some of your stories with you, haven’t you?

L: Yes, that’s right, I have.

Me: I would like you to read one of your stories to me. Is that all right?

L: Oh, yes, I heard I was going to do that. I have a story here which I hope you’ll like. It’s this one here, it’s six pages long.

Me: Good. And while you’re doing that, you will be bent over the table, and I will be spanking you with my five fingered tawse. (I selected it.) This one!

L: Oh, oh, my Goodness! Perhaps I’ll read you this one instead!

Me: How long is that?

L: (Laughing) Two pages.

Me: All right, but read it slowly.

Luna stood up, turned, and still quite beautifully and completely naked, bent over the circular glass table.

L: (Scanning her work.) I don’t understand this. There seems to be a printing mistake.

Me: You’ve made a printing mistake? How dare you!

I spanked her wobbly bottom with my hand. Smack! Spank! Splatt!!

L: Oowowouch!! No. I haven’t made a printing mistake. You should be spanking the Editor, not me!

Me: (Drily) Whoops. Sorry!!

L: I don’t read too well. I’m sure you read much better. You bend over the table and read it, and I’ll spank you!

Me: You will not! Start reading, please!

She didn’t. She got up.

L: Your readers must know they are both talking to their heads. Look, what she says is in italics, see, and what he says is in the ordinary printing. They’re not really talking. It is only in their minds, you see.

Me: I understand, Luna. I’ll tell them. I promise. Now, please bend over the table. (She did.)

Me: Now will you read to me?

L: “In my dreams, which is true, I am his model. I’m the seductress. I’m the temptress. Love me with your soft sable brushes, love me with your caresses.”

“She talks to me with her body. Her bottom talks to me; her, cheeky, full blossomed bottom arouses and tantalises me. Every time, any time. I’m close enough to touch it, feel the peach-soft skin, its warmth, its tightness. I long to pat it, pinch it, caress it, smack it.”

This sounds like my cue, I thought, and brought my five fingered tawse swinging back in the air. Down it came unerringly on its target.

L: Aargh! Oooh!! “He touched me. He stroked my bottom. Obsession took over. Not at all displeasing.” (As it came down again.) Ooh, oh dear — what is that? “A little embarrassing. Ruling passions running through his fingertips.” Oooch! “Overwhelming desire to comply; my rear surrendering, obedient, yielding.” Oh, oh, Oh!! “The bare flesh of my bare bottom humiliated.”

I won’t, now you’ve got the idea, spoil the quality of the splendidly erotic writing that Luna was reading to me so beautifully. You’ll have to imagine the sighs, the whimpers, the little fluttering sounds that were punctuating the words, as my leather tawse came down again and again on that quivering bottom.

L: “My dream on canvas is untitled. Can you give a title to the most beautiful arse? On my canvas I paint her sleek, silky flirting tail. I paint it red; Cardinal carmine, cherry coral crimson red, whipped, punished with her riding crop. Punished for being so audacious, so cheeky, so encouraging. Five strokes, and I pause. Her lovely bottom lifts invitingly. Are we playing master and servant?” What is that? It’s supposed to be a riding crop! It isn’t. Aa-oww!!

Me: Keep reading, Luna. Keep reading.

L: “I don’t struggle. I don’t move. You’re taking me in into your deep sea, but we don’t drown. You think you take control, but the waves do. My waves of passion. I take your blows like kisses. I take this cane I’ve been longing for. I’m yours. Now.”

Luna was having trouble. Her voice was at the mercy of the thudding strokes of my tawse, descending with predictable regularity on her flaring bottom.

L: “She wants more. She begs for more, yet she cries no more. She begs for me to stop, yet her swollen scorched flesh reaches upwards. Stretches, and wriggles playfully. With the crop taking control, with my hand losing control, her bottom takes charge. A bottom amused, receiving humiliation in its role of humble submission in our play, a play of love, and of glorious pain. But who is the dominant character? Where is the applause?”

A crescendo, now. Luna’s bottom was a firework display of rioting, contrasting colours. The punishing tawse sounding to my ears like the cannon fire in the 1812 overture.

L: “I’m a witch, setting fire, and fanning burning flames, burning passions, inviting you to Nirvana past a shortcut through hell. I am his model, I am his muse. And now I am his lover.”

The story was over. The story teller rose from the table and, like Scheherazade in the Arabian Nights, waited for approval.

L: I’ve never read it like that before.

Me: And never will again?

L: You must never say never. Did you like my story?

Me: I have to admit it had the ring of truth about it.

She laughed.

L: Now I want to see what you have done to my poor bottom this time.

So down we went again, to the lower depths, tape recorder, implements et al. Once there, we set up before the mirror, where I placed a small stool. I then reached under the single bed for occasional guests, and retrieved my leather Marks and Sparks slipper.

L: Oh, my God, are you going to use that on my poor little bottom? Let me feel it!

I handed her the instrument of her future punishment. She examined it.

L: Dear slipper, please be kind to me. Don’t hurt me too much. I am already very tender.

This girl is nuts, I thought. Beautiful, clever, a talented writer, but completely nuts! I sat upon the stool. She handed me the slipper, and without further bidding, she knelt, and stretched herself fully across my lap. Still as gorgeously naked as ever.

Me: Would you believe the redness is fading again. We’ll have to do something about that. What colour would you like to see yourself as? Scarlet, crimson, or purple?

L: Oh, I think crimson would be OK.

Me: Crimson it is! Can you see yourself?

L: Wait. Let me turn a little. Yes! Oh, yes! I can now.

Me: Watch closely. This is the big one, so — Six!

I raised the heavy leather slipper almost above my head, so she could see it coming down.

Me: Are you ready?

L: It looks very big, up there. My poor little bottom!

Me: Would you like to stop?

L: No! Let it come.

And, by God it did! Whummph!! An exhalation of breath and one leg jerking to the vertical. That was all. Then, Whapp!! Her bottom convulsed. A low moan, followed by what I can only describe as a snort. I prepared myself for the third, and I could see that she was doing likewise. I placed my hand gently in her back. Not to hold her down, but rather to support her. Then I swung back, and the third stroke came cracking down on her yielding flesh.

Me: Are you looking in the mirror?

L: Yes, I am.

Me: What do you see?

L: I see a poor bottom the colour of cayenne pepper.

Me: I don’t think so. That would take another twenty, at least. Shall we do that?

L: Oh, no way. On second thoughts, I like my bottom just like it is.

Me: Not redder?

L: Well, maybe a little bit redder. Three strokes redder, perhaps.

Me: Do you feel sexy now?

L: Every moment. Nearly every moment I feel sexy. Yes, I feel sexy now.

She laughed, as she had so many times during our interview, and it was like the tinkling of bells.

Me: Final three, Luna.

She wriggled herself comfortable.

L: What do you call that thing?

Me: St Michael. St Michael meet Luna. Luna, meet St Michael.

(Hm — which one of you two is nuts now Will? Paula)

And she did, once again, as my slipper described an arc, then landed on the perfection of her already glowing bottom.

L: Oh, I am so sore!

Me: You’re going to be two strokes sorer, Luna. Thwack!! Last one coming up. Here we go! Crru-ump.

She uncurled herself graciously from my lap, and stood with her bottom towards the mirror, ruefully surveying the damage. Then, surprisingly…

L: Thank you.

Me: You’re welcome.

L: Now, I think I would like you to put some ice on my bum.

Me: (Needing no second bidding.) Wait here.

I left Luna looking at her naked mirror image, and strode up the stairs to my freezer as quickly as I could because I didn’t want to diminish the effect of the ice. I returned immediately, and scooping up a handful of cubes, applied them to her derriere. They didn’t exactly sizzle, but there was immediate melt down.

L: Oh, oh, oh, that’s beautiful!

Then:

L: Whoops a daisy!

As my hand slid with the ice, and finished up halfway down her leg. I got back in control again.

L: Oh, yes. That’s the hottest part, just there. It’s melting all over my bottom, and dripping onto the floor. I can see it dripping in the mirror.

Me: Would you like a towel?

L: No, I think it’s dry now. This is the best part. The afterwards. The warmth.

This was the time I hate most. The time when everything is done, and there is nothing else to stay for, but I don’t want the girl to go. Luna dressed and became almost the graceful figure I had met at the station. I say almost, because there was a difference in her. A kind of inner satisfaction.

Me: Will you send me copies of your future writing?

L: Would you not prefer that I came over and read them to you?

Me: As long as you know that it would probably be over my knee.

L: Then I would probably come and read to you!

Me: I’ll walk you back to the Tube.

And I did.