This is sort of a restart of the "Cindy Regresses to High School" post below.

First the story. A 23-year-old woman dons a uniform and experiences the pain, shame, and embarrassment of a paddling in the Principal's office!

My Wife - Oldest Person Paddled In Texas School!

By: scooter875


Written on February 23, 2013

Texas is one of the few remaining states that allows paddling in school from K-12. A number of years ago, my wife became the oldest person ever paddled by a school principal. She wasn't a high school student, but a grad school student caught up in a spectacular case of mistaken identity. We were boyfriend/girlfriend at the time, both in school together.

My wife attended college and graduate school at the University of Michigan. During grad school, she spent a semester working a state agency in Texas. She worked closely with about five Texas high schools in the Lubbock area. Her thesis project dealt with some health related aspects of secondary education. One of the projects she ran involved giving out condoms after school - off campus. They were not allowed to distribute anything on school grounds.

After one such project she got a call from one of the students telling her that they group has been called to the office and was in trouble for violating a County rule regarding the distribution of condoms. The student informed her that they were given the choice of a suspension or paddling. All 4 girls in my wife's group chose the paddle, but they were desperately hoping my wife could get them off the hook.



My wife drove back to the school to meet with the girls. They all retold the story regarding the condoms. There was of course more to the story. The girls got caught with alcohol in their car in addition to giving out condoms on school grounds. The girls were indignant and essentially said that if my wife didn't get them off the hook, they'd quit her program. That was have screwed her graduate school these. Not good. She called me.

We discussed a number of options - most were pretty good. Then, I thew out one ridiculous one. I said "why don't you go to the office with the girls and offer to take the paddling in their place?" We both laughed it off at first, then realized it might be ingenious. They girls would think she was willing to go to bat for them in a big way and it wasn't even thinkable that she's actually get paddled. The girls would probably still get a paddling, but at least my wife would be giving it her best shot. Crazy at it seemed, it was a hail mary to avoid redoing a thesis.

Unfortunately, my wife took a couple of problematic steps. First when she explained it to the girls, she learned they were to be paddled after lunch. That was in about 15 minutes. School policy was that the girls would change into the school PE uniform. So, all five girls - my wife included - changed. My wife borrowed a high school PE uniform!

This high school has over 5000 students - typical Texas. So, she and the others made their way to the vice principal's office and waited. My wife worked in a different building, one day a week. No one in this office had ever met her. When one of the administrator's came out to meet them, my wife made a second fatal error. In the confusion of the moment, she simply said "this was my fault, I'm responsible and I should be the one paddled, not the girls." That was not really the message she intended. She failed to say SHE WORKED FOR THE STATE! She was dressed as a high school student, and in one fell swoop took the blame for the alcohol and the condoms. The office thought they were talking to a student. My wife was 22!

The administrator went back into the office then emerged a moment later, to tell all five girls that the first four would only receive a single swat, but my wife would take 5!! The others were thrilled. One swat is nothing. Five is the state maximum!

My wife was flabbergast, but was too baffled to say anything. The first girl went in the office. There was total silence and then a loud pop. The girl reemerged a moment later, with a smirk on her face and giggled with the other girls. Girl two, three and four all went in one by one and took their single swat. One or two of the girls came out of the office with a grimace, but no major damage.

Finally, my wife was signaled into the office. There were three administrators in the room. Why she didn't tell them who she was and put a stop to it is a mystery. She claims to this day that she just became lost in the moment, and frankly was afraid she'd already taken it too far. And...she had no idea how bad the next few minutes would be!

The vice principal said something like "so, you're the instigator in all this?" He instructed her to bend over the desk. One of the administrators picked up a large "frat like paddle" off a chair and stood behind my her. The administrator said nothing, he just swung the paddle back and gave my wife a hard swat. She said she lost her breath, but did not cry out. After a few seconds, the second swat landed. My wife says her eyes filled with tears, and she struggled to breathe. The third swat lifted her onto her toes. She lost her composure. She let out a muffled scream. She said there was a short pause, then a hard fourth blow. She tried to regain herself, but it was a lost cause. She was crying and unable to stop. The fifth and final blow came almost immediately after the fourth. It was over, but the damage was done. She sniffed, wiped away tears, and pushed herself back to her feet. The vice principal told her to clean herself up and get to class. That was it, she was shown out the door - still crying from the paddling.

Once in the office she noted that all four other girls had gone. No one waited for her. She had no idea how to get back to the locker room. She left the office and turned right, left, right...no idea where she was going. She finally realized the only way she knew to get back to the locker room was through the cafeteria. It was freshman lunchtime, and about 1200 fourteen year olds were eating lunch as she entered the facility. She says many of them, particularly the horny young boys, watched her quickly move through the room. It was obvious she'd been crying, and she was in a PE uniform coming from the office. My wife says it was the most humiliating walk of her life...way worse than the college walk of shame. She was a 22 year old women with puffy red eyes looking disheveled, and even though they couldn't see it, she has a bright red rear end to match her face. It was actually worse than red. I observed the aftermath myself a week later. She still had two large white circles on each cheek, with a yellow and black/blue perimeter. In all, it was one heck of a paddling!

In the end, she got her master's and later a medical degree at Michigan. Still not a big fan of Lubbock Texas! The four girls finished out the year and managed to stay out of additional trouble. Ironically, the paddling made my wife a bit of a rockstar among the "bad kids" that made up the heath group. To this day, the vice principal doesn't know he paddled a graduate assistant.

ADDITIONAL QUESTIONS:


Thank you so much for posting the story of your story of your wife being mistaken for a student and being paddled in school.

It seems to me like the "moment of truth" for your wife was when she decided to change into her school uniform with the other girls. Was the uniform change her idea, or did the other students suggest it? As a 25 year old graduate student, I imagine she must have been dressed very different from the students; did she realize how much changing into a uniform would make her look like one of the other girls? Did she look at herself in the mirror, and if so, what did she think of her appearance?

You had said that she was flabbergasted in the Principal's office, but I'm betting that at some pointer earlier she must have felt (even slightly) like she was now "one of the girls?" Did any of the girls remark how much she looked like a student after she changed? Did it occur to her as she was walking to the Principal's office, as other students or teachers looked at her, or by the tone in which the administrator addressed her when they first spoke?

I'm curious about the psychology of the situation. You said your wife was "flabbergasted", "baffled" and "lost in the moment." Stripped of her normal clothes and dressed as a schoolgirl, it's easy to see how she could become submerged in her role. Did being dressed that way, and being talked to that way, and being paddled, make her feel like a schoolgirl?

Thanks again for posting your wife's story, and I'll be eagerly awaiting your answers!

ANSWER

I'll answer this one myself. I'm the wife that got paddled! The uniform was obviously the big mistake. I have no idea what I was thinking at that moment, except that I wasn't sure they'd even let me in the office suite if I didn't look the part. I wasn't a teacher or staff exactly. I was affiliated with the health department and working in the school, so I dressed up with the other girls out of some kind of misplaced solidarity. At the time I didn't look in the mirror, but it was a standard PE uniform. It was a white t-shirt with school name and logo and some nylon shorts. The health department was pretty professional, so I had been wearing a nice blouse and slacks that day. I don't think my husband mentioned it in the story but I wasn't wearing underwear! I had gone to the gym before work and forgot clean underwear, so the cheap nylon shorts were the only protection and they weren't much help! Not a great day to go commando!

I was actually only 22 or 23. I went directly to grad school from college, so I was about five years older than the seniors in HS. In a PE uniform, I think I probably looked like a teenager!

http://www.coburger-hochschulfernsehen.de/quirlige-szenen-und-zuendende-melodien

Apparently a long-running U.K. comic strip. Are there any more?

I don't know if anyone's noticed, but there's a crop of new Japanese posters to YouTube, mainly doing CutieSpankee stuff, which is obviously not from mainstream movies - but still very high quality!





Just click on the name that comes up for lots of other similar videos.

Sorry to bother you if this has already been posted.

Found this on another board. Not much but some nice spanks. Nothing like woman spanking another woman, :)

There used to be a bit of a meme on some of the old forums about how Indian movies had scenes in the closing credits - without basis from what I gather. Here's something that may well catch on - two one smackers - two different movies - what appears to be the same context.





30:00 minute mark onwards.






34:00 minute mark onwards.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=eMDshHDlNI0


Starts at like 2:30

http://www.putlocker.com/file/9B4992165FFCCBDD
http://www.putlocker.com/file/D5235B4963B31A57
http://www.putlocker.com/file/952A2CF57970DA69
http://www.putlocker.com/file/41CCB5F7E90AAFEC
http://www.putlocker.com/file/5BFC3C3CC6CA0CF1

The episode of 2 Broke Girls, starring Kat Dennings and Beth Behrs, scheduled for tonight (7 Oct. 2013) in the US is entitled "...And the Kitty Kitty Spank Spank," and apparently features the spanking of both girls. Stills are up on Tumblr:

Was watching YouTube and ran across a skit comedy call The Backstage show! this Episode 8 feature a nice over the knee spanking of a female by another female!LOL! you can check it out at YouTube YCDTOTU EP8 The Backstage Show 1979 !

And possibly submitting a wholly new video, as this one seems longer than the one I recall on here, with more scenes.

I hope everybody enjoys it!

http://www.filmfestivals.com/video/misbehaviour_trailer

The Huffington Post UK had a link I couldn't resist: Nelly Plays Lisa Snowdon's Bum Bongos On Capital FM Breakfast Show.

Lisa Snowden does have a nice bum - at least Nelly seems to enjoy it. See for yourself.

Here in the US we call them Butt Bongos.

I prefer this guy's approach, although I bet Nelly is a better singer.

So, what is it with radio guys and butt bongos? Howard Stern even did a video years ago:



I never cared for Howie, but that doesn't mean I never envied him. Shoulda gone into radio myself, I guess.

Source: Acknowledging Imperfection

“It’s not real. It’s not real,” Alice repeated to herself as she tried to relax. The dream machine whirred gently around her. Although the noise was supposedly designed to lull her off to sleep, she couldn’t help but feel rather confined and agitated in the small pod. Knowing what would happen when she finally slept, even if it was just in her mind, didn’t help her relax.

‘Why did I ever come here?’ she wondered, the thought creeping in despite her continued mantra. Being here was no accident; it was a choice she had talked herself in and out of so many times she couldn’t even fool herself into thinking that she had made a mistake in coming here.

***

A young blonde flashed her a stunning smile from behind the reception desk. This was truly as close as any living creature could come to Barbie. Alice was taken aback. “I was expecting Mr. Smith,” she stammered, not quite sure what to make of this girl.

“Yes, or rather, Mr. Walker is expecting you” the Barbie-girl replied with a laugh like tinkling silver bells, doing nothing to make her fit in with the dull waiting room.

“Mr Walker? But I’ve been speaking with Mr. Smith,” Alice interjected, growing rather concerned. It had taken enough courage to open herself up to Mr. Smith in their e-mails arranging this appointment. She shuddered to think that the entire staff now knew her deeply personal desires.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find Mr. Walker quite up to the task of taking care of you today. Have a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here.” Barbie snatched up a manilla folder and disappeared through the door behind the desk leaving Alice gape-mouthed in her wake.

Alice sat warily. “Can’t be helped now,” she told herself. “I’m here and I may as well make the most of it.”

It felt like she had been sitting there for ages, though the hands of the old-fashioned clock on the wall hadn’t perceptibly moved. Alice was just beginning to wonder if the clock even worked when Barbie returned and with a bright smile directed her down the hall to office 203 where she was told she would find Mr Walker.

If the waiting room had been dull, the corridor was downright bleak. Alice tiptoed down the grey square tunnel past a series of greyer doors, distinguished only by the lighter grey numbers on the plates to their sides. Although the corridor was impeccably clean, the color scheme and sparse fluorescent lighting lent it a dingy air that did nothing to dispel Alice’s doubts about the whole adventure. Before long, she reached room 203, raised her hand, and knocked before she could convince herself to turn around.

“Come in,” she heard a voice from within. Quivering only slightly, she turned the knob and opened the door.

The office was filled with a warm glow from the window that instantly put her at ease, despite the rather stern looking man seated behind the imposing desk. Some part of the back of her mind figured this was fitting, given what she was here to experience, though she continued to hover awkwardly near the door until he motioned that she should be seated across from him.

“Alice Miller?” he asked, fixing her with his unwavering gaze.

“That’s me,” Alice squeaked back, failing miserably in her effort to sound confident.

Mr Walker gave her a smile that he meant to be reassuring, though it looked more like a grimace and therefore had little effect. “Welcome. I have your pod prepared and preloaded with the experience you had discussed with Mr. Smith.”

“Where is he? I was expecting to meet him. . .” Alice trailed off, not wanting to dwell on the thought of Mr. Smith discussing her fantasies with anyone else.

“Mr. Smith has the day off. Nothing to worry about; he left everything perfectly in order. All I need to do is clear you through the introductory procedures and press ‘go,’” he replied to try to placate her, “and I assure you everyone on our staff will use the utmost discretion. You might be surprised at the kinds of people who come here, and what they choose to experience. After working here a while, it all tends to blend together for those of us responsible for helping them to live their dreams, in a way at least. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about,” Mr Walker said nonchalantly.

“The rest of your staff. . . but. . . how many more of you are there?”

“There’s only ever been one of me” Mr Walker replied with a wink, “though I assume you’re referring to my employees. Don’t worry, Kat is the only other one here today. There are a few others on occasion when things get busy, but you’ve picked a quiet day. Ideal for first-timers I think.

“Now, before we get started there are a few technicalities to observe. I need your full and written consent before we begin. You’ve already talked about your expectations for the session with my colleague, but I need to go over a few of the more technical details and obtain formal consent. As you know, this facility is designed to help you artificially live out fantasies you’re not willing or ready to explore in the outside world. To do this we use a method not unlike hypnotism to implant memories of an experience you wish to have. This will be based on our previous discussions of your desires, but the details will not be known to you until the procedure is underway.”

Alice tried her best not to fidget or let her mind and eyes wander about the office. She would have given anything to jump ahead and spare herself this anxious waiting. She wanted to get down to the meat of things before she changed her mind yet again. Still, she knew that he was legally obligated to tell her these things, though it seemed rather redundant; she had read the policies on their website so many times she could have recited them by heart. Out of a combination of respect for procedure and a deep desire to not displease the man who shortly would essentially have full reign of her mind, she did her best to appear to pay attention as he continued.

“You will not be in danger of any permanent physical harm, though once the procedure starts you will have no way to stop it and will need to trust us to keep you safe. You will be nervous; I know that this is part of what you crave. But you will need to trust me. Therefore, I need to have your signature here before we begin. Take your time and be sure you fully understand what you are signing on for.”

The consent form was lengthy, but written in plain language. As her mother had always warned her, she read the entire contract before she signed it. It took her several minutes, but Mr Walker didn’t seem to mind at all, passing the time by fixing them both a pot of tea and settling down with a newspaper on the other side of the desk as she scrawled her name over and over before handing the papers back.

All of a sudden things were moving much to fast. He stood up and swept her down a narrow corridor to a small darkened room containing what would have looked like an old-fashioned tanning bed if it hadn’t been so buried in wires running every which way. Intimidated, she hesitated at the door. A moment later she felt a firm pressure on the small of her back as Mr Walker guided her into the room and helped her lie down on the bed. As he moved to close the lid, he gave her one final warning.

“If anything happens and you need to get out, press the button under your left hand. Do not try to get out on your own; the equipment is expensive, not to mention heavy, and I’d hate to see it or you damaged. Do you understand?”

Alice turned toward him with a panicked look and nodded slightly. Mr Walker gave her another of his not-quie-so-assuring smiles. “Hardly anyone has ever needed to use the button. Just relax and you’ll drift right off. Whatever you do, do not try to get out on your own. Push the button and someone will come to assist you.” After a stern look, a nod, and the ominous “thunk” of the lid closing, she was alone in the dream machine, hearing it whirr to life around her.

***

‘Surely something should have started by now?’ the thought slipped into Alice’s mind despite her mantra. Suddenly the whirring stopped, and Alice laid in silence. A few moments later, her agitation grew to panic. Was this normal? She pressed the panic button as she had been instructed. Nothing happened. She pressed it again and again, as though impatiently waiting for an elevator and still there was no response. Growing desperate, she felt around in the darkness and shoved against the lid of the pod. It resisted her shove at first, but, with her second shove, it unexpectedly flew open with a loud clang and she was temporarily blinded by the same lighting that had seemed so dim before.

She sat up in a daze. “Hello?” she called out tentatively, then louder, “Hello?”

She swung her legs over the edge of the pod, stood up, and scampered over to the door. Peering into the hallway, she could not see any signs of either Mr Walker or Barbie. . .what was her name?

“Mr Walker?” she all but shouted as she stepped into the hall. It looked much as before- the same row of grey doors- but a sliver of blue light at the far end caught her eye. She walked slowly down the corridor away from reception, transfixed by what she saw. When she had been here before, the corridor had appeared to end in a plain wall, though now a beam of light escaped around the left edge. As she got closer she could clearly make out the outline of a concealed door. With one last look behind her, she pushed gently to widen the opening.

The room beyond was a marked contrast to the corridor. Bright lights gleamed in the ceiling, illuminating a bank of multi-buttoned panels. The entire rear wall was filled with screens showing several rooms with pods similar to the one from which she had just come, while another wall appeared to be showing what looked like a series of disconnected scenes from movies.

“Are those the dreams?” Alice wondered aloud.

“Alice!” she heard someone cry out in shock. A middle-aged man emerged from a utility closet off to her right, toting a box of odd-looking tools and trailed by a cloud of smoke. “What are you doing?” he demanded sharply as he loudly shut the door on the still-smoking electronics and rounded on her.

“Who are you?” Alice asked, not thinking to wonder how he knew her name. “Mr Walker said that no one else was here, other than himself and Bar- er. . . the receptionist.”

“I just stopped in for a bit. Some unfinished business. I should know better than to swing by on my days off, it’s just asking to walk into a catastrophe. Sure enough, I wasn’t here five minutes before the fuse blew in pod seven. We equip the pods with panic buttons for a reason, not that some people bother to notice.” Alice stared at him and blinked, utterly perplexed by his outburst. Noting her confusion, he set down the toolbox and faced her squarely, continuing in a slightly softer voice, “I’m Mr Smith. I thought you were supposed to be a smart girl? And what are you doing here? I thought you were scheduled to have your dream today. Did you move your appointment?”

“I .. I wasn’t sure if it was working. I tried the button but no one answered,” she replied, beginning to wonder if she had done something terribly wrong. His face darkened at her words. He stormed off to the nearest control panel, and a few taps later an image of the broken pod from which she had emerged flickered to life on the screen.

“Of course it’s not working,” he grunted as he fussed with a few more buttons. “What on earth did you do in there? Didn’t my colleague warn you to stay put and wait for assistance?”

“Well, yes, but-” Alice stopped as he twirled around and stormed off to another panel on the other side of the room.

“Do you have any idea how long this will take to repair?” he continued to rant. “I should have known it was you who caused all this. Weren’t you warned to stay in the pod?”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Alice protested. “It stopped making noise, the panic button didn’t work, so I came out on my own. I think it broke”

“Of course it broke, being forced open like that.” Mr Smith spat back at her.

“I’m sorry. I just thought that-”

“Clearly you didn’t think.” he snapped back before she could get any further. “No wonder you wanted to experience a spanking, you have much need of one.”

Alice’s her retort caught in her throat. Of course she had discussed this with him over email in excruciating detail before coming here, but writing about her fantasy was one thing, hearing the words out loud was another thing entirely.

“This pod will be down for at least a week. Why couldn’t you just follow simple instructions?” He heaved a sigh and glared at her.

Even more embarrassed, Alice stared down at her shoes. “I said I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go.”

“Not so fast. You’ve paid to live out a certain fantasy and I see no reason not to uphold our end of the bargain. Perhaps you’ll even learn something about the importance of doing what one should.” The menace in his eyes should have sent her sprinting for the exit, but her feet would not move.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just see myself out.” She could do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes as he advanced toward her, grabbed her firmly by the arm, and lead her to a nearby bench seat.

“Not after disobeying a direct instruction you won’t.”

Soon she was staring at the grey floor tiles as she laid over his lap. Although Mr Smith was at least a foot shorter than her, he had no trouble maneuvering her into position. She tried to stand back up, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her securely with more strength than she expected from a man of his stature. She felt him lift the back of her skirt and doubled her efforts to squirm away. Although she had begun to feel comfortable sharing her deep, dark secrets with this man over the last few weeks, she had never expected to become this intimate with him and certainly not when he was so irate. She could hardly reconcile this angry man with the one who had so gently prompted her to reveal her innermost thoughts over the last few weeks.

The sharp pain from the first slap brought a temporary stop to her struggle as she processed the sensation. As much thought as she had given to this experience, she hadn’t been truly prepared for the pain. Then again, she hadn’t expected it to be real pain. This thought provided no comfort whatsoever, and only heightened her embarrassment at the next slap. She tried to hold still, determined not to make a fool of herself.

“You really had no idea what you were getting yourself into, did you?” Mr Smith asked sharply, though more calmly than he had a few moments previously. “For all your dreams of spanking, you didn’t realize what a real spanking would entail did you? It’s not a thing to be discussed logically, clinically, coldly,” he lectured as he increased his pace and she began to squirm slightly despite her efforts to keep still. “A real spanking is not some cute little exercise. It is an emotional process. There is guilt, a feeling that something is terribly wrong, that you’ve made a conscious decision that has caused a great deal of trouble for yourself or others. This guilt can be purged, but the process is painful. The punishment must be intense if it is to be effective.” His hand continued to fall on her bottom, harder and harder until she couldn’t stop herself from emitting yelps of protest.

Just as she was about to lose herself in the new sensations, his voice called her back, “You must have known this. You came for a spanking and it sure didn’t take you very long to find a way to earn yourself a very serious one.” Whether from the pain or from the knowledge that there may be some truth to his words, Alice broke into sobs. He continued the spanking in silence for several minutes. When he had finished, she lay limply over his lap.

He helped her sit up and hugged her close. “I’m so sorry” Alice gasped over and over. Eventually the soft pressure of his embrace calmed her and her sobs turned to sniffles as she rested her head against his shoulder.

He stroked her back and murmured softly. “It’s alright. What’s done is done. The pod can be fixed, but pleas promise you’ll think more carefully before acting rashly in the future. I’m sure this has been more of a learning experience than you had expected, and more than I had planned for you, though I hope it’s not one that you regret.”

She sniffed again and he continued, “With a well-deserved punishment, there is pain, but only as much pain as necessary to purge the guilt. Once the purge is complete, there is forgiveness, a beautiful thing that can’t be so much described as experienced.” Still contained in his embrace, she hugged him back. Exhausted, she drifted to sleep.

***

Alice opened her eyes to darkness and a soft whirring of machinery. The sound was comforting, and she was about to drift back to sleep when the noise stopped abruptly and chink of light appeared to her right. She blinked in the brightness as the lid of the pod was lifted and she saw Mr Walker standing over her.

“Welcome back, Alice,” he said. “I trust the experience was satisfactory?”

“What happened?” Alice asked groggily. As the details flooded back, she looked around questioningly. “How did you fix the pod so quickly?”

“I’m not sure what you’re taking about.” Mr. Walker stated. “The pod is in perfect condition. We always check such things before each session.”

“But I thought. . .” Alice sat up suddenly, and lept to her feet as quickly as she could to relieve the pain in her bottom. She paced the room for a few moments, struggling to make sense of her experience. “The lid- I forced it open and. . .” Alice moved to the door and out into the hallway, followed by an equally confused Mr. Walker. She walked down the corridor, pausing briefly at the door to the room next to the one from which she had emerged. It had been left slightly ajar, and she glimpsed a similar pod within, though the lid hung slightly askew. Alarmed, she ran to the end of the corridor and pushed against the wall. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it gave way faster than she had anticipated and she all but tumbled into the control room.

“Alice!” she heard a familiar voice cry out in surprise as Mr Smith turned from the panel to face her. “What are you doing here?”

Alice gaped at him in shock. “Mr Smith- I.. . .”

Mr Walker appeared in the doorway behind her. “Mr Smith! I didn’t realize you were in today.”

“I decided to drop by for a bit. Some unfinished business. I should know better than to swing by on my days off, it’s just asking to walk into a catastrophe. Sure enough, I wasn’t here five minutes before the fuse blew in pod seven. I have everything under control, though it will take weeks to repair,” he said as he wiped his brow. “What brings the two of you in here?” he asked, appearing rather bemused at the sudden influx of guests to the control room.

Enraged, Alice flew at him, “You tricked me- you – you fraud! If I wanted some sick pervert to take advantage of me I could have just picked one off the internet!”

“Wouldn’t be the words I would chose, but, in a way, isn’t that exactly what you did though?” Mr Smith asked with a glint in his eye.

Enraged, Alice flew at him, but Mr Walker caught her arm before she could move more than a few steps. “Come with me,” he instructed unnecessarily, all but dragging her back to his office.

Once away from Mr Smith, Alice’s rage abated, and she allowed herself to be steered into Mr. Walker’s office, seated in a chair, and offered a cup of tea.

“Care to explain what that was about?” Mr Walker asked over his own cup.

Alice hesitated, unsure of how to explain, unsure of what she wanted to explain, and unsure of exactly what was real anymore.

“I’m not quite sure. I thought I was coming here to live a dream. I just didn’t expect it to be so . . realistic. Was it really real? Was this some elaborate ruse? Do you do this to all of your clients? Or was this just the dream Mr. Smith prepared for me? Do you-”

“First of all,” Mr Walker cut her off as her questions began to gain steam, “I feel I should tell you that I have no idea what you experienced. As I said earlier, Mr. Smith had everything all set, I didn’t even bother to look at what he had planned for you. So unless you care to elaborate, I’m afraid I can’t be of much use.”

Alice blushed. How much had she revealed already? She had questions, but what were they? How much could she ask without going into everything all over again?

“Tell me,” Mr Walker said after a few moments of silence “if it were real, would you have resented it?”

Alice gaped at him, unprepared for the question and even more unprepared for the answer that leaped up into the back of her mind.

Mr. Walker smiled kindly. “No need to answer now, but think on this as you leave. Perhaps you’ll decide to fulfill these desires in another way.” “And, would you have preferred it to have been real? It’s your memory, you can decide. Reality gets a lot of attention, but it really is overrated.

“What are you trying to tell me, that reality doesn’t matter so I should just keep feeding you money?” Alice asked with a mixture of hostility and genuine confusion.

“Maybe, or maybe it’s that if you’re willing to let one complete stranger from the internet know you well enough to have this experience then maybe you could seek this kind of fulfillment elsewhere. It’s your path. you decide.”

Second installment of the Lightbringer series.

A young slavegirl trains to become a member of the Blackguard, a corps of elite soldiers. She happens to become the training partner of Kip, one of the protagonists.

In this scene Teia meets her owner for the first time who is not at all whom she expected...and does seem to have certain sexual preferences

Page 205 Paperback edition (Orbit)
Chapter 42


Adrasteia had been summoned. Her mistress herself, Lucretia Verangheti, had ordered her to this dingy home on the far south side of Big Jasper, in the shadow of the walls. Not a pleasant neighborhood.
A pale, grumbling man opened the door and showed Adrasteia to a nook. He brought tea. Only one cup. Didn’t put it in front of her.
A woman Adrasteia didn’t recognize came in ten minutes later. She was young and Ruthgari, with the vanishingly rare true blonde hair and blue eyes. It would have made her an exotic beauty if she didn’t also have such a long, horsey face. She was dressed in a casual dress, well cut, and she wore only a few jewels. Her hair was long and gorgeous, but bound up in a practical bun right now. In all things, she looked like an extremely wealthy lady taking her ease in her own home. She sat. Sipped the tea.
“This isn’t hot, Gaeros,” she said.
The man apologized profusely and took it away. He returned almost immediately, put a hot cup in front of her. “We’ll need privacy,” the woman said.
“Yes, Mistress.” He left and shut the door after himself.
“So,” the woman said.
“So?” Teia asked.
“I’m your owner, my name is Lady Aglaia Crassos. You may call me Mistress.”
“My owner is Lady Lucretia Verangheti.”
“There is no Lady Verangheti. Or I am Lady Verangheti, depending on how you want to look at it. My family has enemies who would block us from placing slaves in certain households or positions—say, the Blackguard. The fiction of ‘Lady Verangheti’ helps me circumvent such pettiness.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress, I don’t mean to be rude, but out of loyalty to my mistress…” There had to be some way to say this. “Hrm…”
“You don’t believe me,” Lady Crassos said. She sounded amused, which Teia hoped was good. “It would be an interesting bluff, would it not? Of course, it would only work on slaves who never meet their mistress—meaning my slaves. Sad.” She pulled out a single piece of vellum and handed it over. It was Teia’s title; she recognized it instantly. Attached to it on a separate sheet was a writ of transfer, signed by Lucretia Verangheti and Aglaia Crassos. The handwriting was the same.
It took Teia a few moments to understand. If Aglaia wanted to keep her ownership of Teia secret, she couldn’t own Teia’s title under her real name or anyone who bothered to inquire could find out to whom Teia belonged. But she needed to have the writ of transfer already finished in case something came up that required her to prove ownership quickly—so she kept the writ and simply didn’t file it at the Chromeria.
Teia’s throat tightened. Why would the woman reveal her ownership now?
“How good of a liar are you, girl?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Simple question. If you’re willful, you will be beaten exquisitely.”
Exquisitely? “I’m pretty good, when I try. Mistress.”
Aglaia Crassos’s face lit up. “Good. Good. Exactly what my sources have told me. Continue to answer honestly and your service for me need not be wholly unpleasant.”
Fear stabbed through Teia. Not wholly?
Aglaia looked around, as if searching for something. She rang her little bell, and the serving man instantly came in. “My crop,” she said.
Gaeros knuckled his forehead and disappeared. He was back in moments. He presented her with a riding crop, then turned his back.
She cracked the riding crop low against his back. He jerked, but said nothing.
Aglaia dismissed him with a wave. “My slaves must anticipate my needs. I believe in disciplining you personally when you don’t. When a lady hands off discipline to someone else out of some misplaced sense of daintiness, she can’t know if her discipline is being enforced with too much mercy or too much gusto. And slaves—like children or hounds—are best disciplined immediately. I will not always have an enforcer with me, but I carry my strong right arm wherever I go. So when we conclude our interview today, I will beat you. I think it’s important for you to know how firm of a hand your mistress has. It will also let me know how easily you bruise, in case I have to beat you someday before you’re to be seen in public.”
Teia swallowed. The weight of dread made her knees quiver. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Kip Guile is your partner in the Blackguard training.”
“Yes, Mistress. Your pardon, but he was disowned weeks ago. He’s no longer a Guile.”
“I’m aware of this. But I have reason to believe that Kip may be welcomed back into his family when Gavin Guile returns.”
Teia ducked her head, made her face show contrition. She was a slave, not a fool.
“Adrasteia, my brother was the governor of Garriston. He was trying to save that worthless city when Gavin Guile shamed and murdered him and made him look like a traitor. And now my slave is partnered with his bastard. A bastard about whom he apparently cares. These are facts.”
Teia scowled briefly, not sure what her mistress was implying. She didn’t hold the expression. Some owners didn’t like to see unpleasant expressions on their slaves. She also didn’t smile with the vacuous impression that she was an idiot that so many other slaves had mastered. Aglaia had said she prized intelligence. It might even be true. Best to reinforce her mistress’s feeling of superiority without overplaying it.
Aglaia rolled her eyes, like Teia was hopelessly stupid. “I want you to keep my ownership of you secret, understood? If it’s found that I own you, because of the history between Gavin’s family and mine, you’d likely be expelled from the Blackguard and made worthless to me. I’ll sell you to a brothel at the silver mines in Laurion after I vent my frustrations on you. Understood?”
The silver mines were notorious, the first option for slaves who committed serious but not capital crimes, and the last resort for slave owners exasperated with slaves who rebelled or fled repeatedly. The mines were dangerous, the other slaves more so, and the brothels were worse. They were reserved for the use of the depraved gaolers and their favorite slaves: the best of the worst. Teia had a friend, Euterpe, whose owners had lost everything during a drought. Finding the local brothels already full with slaves and even free women who’d sold themselves into slavery so they could eat, Euterpe’s owners had sworn to her that she would return after only three months. She’d been returned five months later, after her owners finally recovered. She never did. Never smiled. Flinched at the touch of any man, even her father, who’d gone mad and hanged himself.
Laurion was a curse among slaves. A byword. A threat whose mere existence was enough to keep most slaves in line.
Aglaia Crassos didn’t mean it as a threat. Her eyes had as much pity as a rattlesnake’s. “You think I wouldn’t do that when you’re worth a fortune if I let the Blackguard buy you?”
Teia licked her lips, but couldn’t think of any response that mightn’t plunge her further into hell.
“My brother’s death means I’ll inherit twice as much money now as I thought I would a few months ago. Vengeance is sweeter than gold. Do you know the girls in Laurion service up to fifty men every day? Fifty! I didn’t believe it myself, but I’ve known several people who’ve sworn it’s true. They give the girls a measure of olive oil every day. Can you guess why?”
Teia blinked stupidly, ice in her guts.
“Because otherwise they get destroyed inside. Death by cock sounds so romantic, doesn’t it? But I’m sure it’s not. Fifty each day. And a pretty girl like you… you might do even more. Not many pretty young girls there. Do you understand me?”
Teia’s knees felt weak. She nodded. She had to get away.
“So now that we understand each other, tell me, have you seen anything worthwhile?”
Teia gave her report. Kip was fat, had few friends, spent most of his time in the library, apparently spending all his time reading about some game. He’d been summoned several times to speak with the Red, and had seemed distraught afterward. He thought the Red wanted to destroy him. The old man had taken away Kip’s right to go to practicum in order to make Kip seem inept when Gavin got back. Teia had seen Kip draft green and blue. He didn’t sleep well.
All that was fine. It was information Lady Crassos could learn through other avenues. But that wasn’t good enough, and Teia knew it.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Teia also told her mistress that Commander Ironfist had told her that there were two trainees he couldn’t let fail out of the Blackguard: Cruxer and Kip. She omitted herself.
That was obviously news to Aglaia. “That’s good,” she said. “That’s very good. Is there… anything else?”
“I train with Kip, after midnight, in a special room low in the Prism’s Tower.” Adrasteia shrugged. “The commander wants him to be good enough to make it into the Blackguard by himself.”
Hold back what you can about Kip, too. Don’t tell her about the dagger he has hidden. Keep what you can of your soul.
“Good enough,” Aglaia said. “Anything else?”
Give everything else. A slave, not a hero. “I saw someone else using paryl when I was out on one of my special jobs.”
Aglaia’s eyebrows shot up, and she made Teia tell her everything about it.
“An assassination,” she said. “Never liked her anyway, but that someone would… hmm. I’ll have to see if she died. Worrying, though, either way.” She didn’t explain who she was talking about. Teia knew better than to ask.
Aglaia seemed to push the thought out of her mind and turned back to the task at hand. She smiled, and it actually seemed genuine. “You’ve pleased me greatly, girl. I’ll remember this. I know I’m a hard mistress, but if you perform well, you’ll be rewarded well. Today, two rewards. First, I’ll let you name one.”
It could be a test, a trap. A slave knew there were certain rewards you didn’t ask for. Asking too much made you seem lazy or ungrateful or greedy. But if your mistress were in a good mood, she might change your life on a whim—for the better. “Erase my father’s debt,” Teia said before she thought too much.
“How much does he owe?” Lady Crassos asked.
“Seven hundred danars.” It was two years’ wages for a laborer. Her father spent everything now simply paying the interest on it.
“Seven hundred danars? That is a substantial sum. How did your father run up such a massive sum? He a gambler?”
Teia ignored the patronizing tone. “He bought my sisters back.” He’d been crushed when he came back from a trade journey to find that his wife had taken up with another man, had borrowed vast sums to fund a lavish lifestyle, and lost everything he’d worked for twenty years to accumulate, including their house, furniture, jewels, and brewery. His wife had finally sold their three daughters to pay her debts. And then only part of the debts. All while he’d been gone.
“He bought them back. But not you.”
“I cost too much.” It was Teia’s fault. Her drafting had manifested after she’d been sold. If she hadn’t drafted, everything would be different. Her mother had only been furious that she had sold Teia too cheaply.
After everything, Kallikrates hadn’t even left his wife. Said she’d gone mad. Said it was his own fault that he’d married a woman who couldn’t bear a trader’s long absences.
“Do you know how much this bracelet cost me?” Aglaia asked. She held out a wrist, bangled with some ugly golden glittering thing.
“No, my lady.” Guessing too high would be as bad as guessing too low.
“Guess.” It was an order.
“Six, seven thousand danars?” Teia said. It couldn’t be worth more than five thousand. Her father would have gotten it for four.
Aglaia’s eyebrow rose for a moment. “Well done, little flower. I got it for five thousand six hundred, and I drove a hard bargain. I thought it would complement a necklace I have. It doesn’t.” Her expression made it clear that today was the last time she would ever wear it.
Teia said nothing. She knew better than to hope.
Aglaia said, “No, no, of course not. Seven hundred danars, for collecting snuff boxes and trinkets and a bit of information? That’s far too rich. I will keep it in mind, though. Something else…?”
“Training in paryl,” Teia said quickly. If she got in, the Blackguard would probably go to the expense of finding and hiring a private tutor for her. Otherwise, she’d have to wait until she was a gleam, or a third-year, when more specialized Chromeria training started. That was too long.
“Ah,” Aglaia said. “That might well be more expensive in the long run than erasing your father’s debts. But… it would make you more likely to get into the Blackguard, wouldn’t it? An investment.” She thought about it for a moment, while Teia’s heart pounded. “Yes. Done.” She smiled. “And an excellent request. Shows a good mind. For a slave. I want you to know, I’m quite pleased; if this weren’t our first meeting, I’d skip the beating. But I can’t have you thinking I’m soft. Strip down to your shift, girl. I like to keep one layer of cloth on so I don’t leave marks, but there’s no reason to give you more padding than necessary. Beatings can be so tiring in a stuffy little room.”
Teia stripped, and Aglaia Crassos carefully beat her horrendously from her calves to her shoulders, and then, when Teia thought she was finished, she beat the front of her body from her collarbones to her shins.
Sometimes Teia fantasized about not weeping through a beating, of being as hard and implacable as Commander Ironfist or Watch Captain Karris White Oak, but she wept freely. Proud slaves were stupid slaves. And it hurt too much anyway. Though she claimed dispassion, once Aglaia Crassos got going, sweating as she beat the girl, her face lit up with a glow that wasn’t wholly perspiration. A small, fierce joy lit up her eyes when she snapped the crop across Teia’s breasts one last time at the end.
Aglaia Crassos rang her little bell and Gaeros poked his head in the door immediately. Teia collapsed to the floor, every part of her aching. Gaeros carried in a platter with a goblet of chilled wine in it.
The foul hag took it and drank deeply. “Gaeros, help this one dress, and”—she rubbed the beads of perspiration from her upper lip—“summon my room slave, the tall one, Incaros. I find I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“He awaits you eagerly in the next room, Mistress.”
“Ah, see! Anticipating my needs!” She turned and put the crop against Gaeros’s groin. “If you were even a little bit handsome I might reward you for that.” She slapped the crop against his crotch, as if it were playfully, but it connected hard.
A small grunt escaped as the man turned to the side and held himself still for a long moment. His eyes were watery when he opened them. But Aglaia had already forgotten about him. She turned to Teia and stood over her. Aglaia said gently, “You’ll remember this, won’t you, Teia?”
“Y-yes, Mistress.”
“Gaeros, find out her favorite food and drink. We’ll serve them to her next time. She’s done well. Very well. Teia, I’ll beat you again next time. Slaves are naturally slow to understand and need firm reinforcement of basic lessons. But after that, this won’t have to happen again.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“And you swear to serve me with your whole heart, don’t you, girl?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Teia said fervently. There was no trace of guile in her.
Was she a good liar? Aglaia had asked. Teia was a slave. Of course she was a good liar.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Your second reward.” Aglaia Crassos rummaged through a little jewelry box. “You are to wear this at all times, understood?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Teia had no idea what she was talking about.
Lady Crassos handed her a slender, pretty gold necklace with a little vial dangling from it. Seeing the puzzled look in Teia’s eyes, Lady Crassos merely smiled broadly and left.
As Gaeros helped her dress, eliciting gasps and grunts and grinding teeth as cloth slid over inflamed skin, Teia heard the harpy noisily rutting next door, cries of passion not unlike pain. When Teia was all dressed and her tears dried, Gaeros gently took her tightly balled fist in his hand to take the necklace and put it on her.
With difficulty, Teia unclenched her fist and surrendered the vial. A vial of olive oil.

Several years ago there was a site, I believe German or Austrian, that featured Krampus like beings spanking club-going women! These were late night ambushes where the birch was applied to the young ladies' behinds.

Does anyone remember the films or site???


Jim

I'm sure this entire scene was posted at some point. It's trailer for Dangerous Woman of Wrestling. Quick view at 1:28

Really there wasn't much rearend smacking on the Brady Bunch, but for sure there should've been. Carol almost got one from mike when she tried to defend Greg about loosing Mike's blue print drawing. He raised his hand, and stopped there. Then Peter & Bobby got a few soft ones from dad to punctuate a point. But it was Jan who got the blunt of attention. One time by Carol as she was laying across her bed. And twice by Mike, which were loud & crisp, In the episode were Jan wanted to be an only child, she received a solid 4 smack volley across the back of her tight jeans after Mike gave her a pep talk about trying to get along with her bothers & sisters, Then 2 more when she walked away. 6 total. The second time I can't recall the episode, but it was nearly the same, several smacks after their father & daughter talk. I would have to think there was a slight redness across Jan's buttocks on both occasions!

Since I've seen some requests for pics, scenes etc quite miraculously fulfiled on these forums - I'm going to have a shot :

Some time in 2008, there was a post on one of those famous (now extinct) spanking research forums of a link to a football match in Italy, involving Inter Milan. Inter Milan had just scored, and as they panned to the crowd, an Inter fan was seen putting his girlfriend over his knee and vigorously spanking her, even as everyone else celebrated. Bizarre I know. Now in the past I've seen people resurrect old wrestling-related posts word for word from those forums, though they're not defunct. I was hoping someone had any recollection of at least when this was (definitely March-May 2008). Perhaps the original poster is a regular here? Outlandish I know but worth a shot :)

For fans of the "loser gets spanked" stipulation in athletic competitions, this website has several such scenes in their arm wrestling section.

http://www.xxtreeme.com/?page=arm_wrestling