Over His Knee - Book One: M/F spanking stories

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She sat down on that vestry chair, creaking slightly under the weight of bare acre, which made Tasha giggle. Her freshly spanked cheeks on wood nestled. She was ready! Vicar went over, displaying a bare quite boyish but chunky, too much indulgence and not enough fasting. In looks both fore, and aft, Penny was reminded of Finn, husband and partner to Laywoman Lawson, who as it happened gave and received as Penny suspected (found out on a visit one night). A spanking husband and a spanking wife was quite the zeitgeist among the 40 somethings. Equal opportunities. Well, that boyish bare which was ivory white soon started turning pink. As Mrs F spanked so she instructed, she just couldn’t help it: “now Vicar, its all about rhythm and flow, rhythm and flow, varying speed, altering pace, alternate cheeks. Raising the hand half-way – crash it down – the hand full way – wallop! – Now a flurry, now three, one on each cheek, one in the crease, a hammer hand, an open palm, now six hard to finish”.

The next thing I knew, Aunt Pam was holding my arms firmly so I couldn’t move, and Doreen was unzipping my jeans. Then I was pulled across Pam’s knee in a daze. On the Sunday morning, Val’s husband asked me if I’d like to join him to go to a ‘coffee meet’ in the Mustang. The other kids my age were not bothered about such things and so we set off, just me and him. That Mustang sounded so sweet – I felt like a movie star. The following year the invitation was reciprocated and we went to the US to stay with them. By then I was 14, almost turning 15. Sure enough a ringing instruction rang out, clear as a bell, which was their cue to resume their viewing position: “right, Vicar, I think you’ve covered the terrain. Now we change places and I show you how it’s done. Only fair when bottoms are bare that givers are also receivers”. Except in special cases. She’d even tried to have the class of spank re-formed. So girls could learn technique, if called.A window was open in that small space known as the vestry. As they passed by an unmistakable sound emanated out, rooting them to the spot. There is always a rather rowdy, ribald crowd, with plump bare bottomed lasses on their knees giggling. The majority are plump older women, with ‘their girl’. We go and sit, she is about to start a tale….not verse, not poetry, but something akin to Chaucer, and his Canterbury tales.

I wept openly at the loss. Lucille was my rudder, my anchor—my disciplinarian, yes, but also my wife, guardian and lover. Although all of our friends knew Lucille was in charge, no one ever knew the details of the agreement and relationship we shared, at least not in full. I found I was lost without her. My performance at the office suffered significantly, and in my depressed state I ignored the solicitations of our friends, finding little remaining joy in life. In due time, this joyous fact would be shared with parish ladies as they discussed the merits and joys of bottoms bare and spanking matters, over each other’s knee as it turned out, on Wednesday nights at Ladies Group. But that was for the near future. There and then, in real time, there was some proper action due. Well Vicar look startled but in the face of matronly will, he complied. It was indeed quite a scene. Mrs F pushed herself off the spanking lap, bottom bare red-pink all over – majestic and regal, plump and broad, Tasha thought, with possibly the deepest cleft she had ever in her young life seen. In that moment a plan was formed that before she left for Norland-land, she would pay a visit to that lap, if she could possibly afford. Tasha felt the juices flowing, and had to restrain from bursting in on that scene, crying “please, please, spank me!” Yes, ma’am,” I said through my sniffles. “I’m sorry, and I won’t let it happen again.” I felt the paddle resting against my bottom, and I prayed Vera would not raise it again. Surprisingly, my former depression had disappeared, completely replaced by the long-familiar feelings of respect and fear of further punishment. Now!” Vera demanded, “or this little incriminating document may find its way to an ad in the evening paper.”

She sits, legs open, her chin on her hand, elbow on knee. “Hello all, I think you’ll like this un!” I was not pleased by this interruption, nor Vera’s imperious attitude, but I suppose since Lucille left Vera her business, it was only reasonable she would have to spend time with the documents and records in Lucille’s study, at least until she was able to transfer the whole lot to her own apartment.

I collected my magazine and sat (carefully) in the lounge with Val until my own mum joined us again. Val looked over and smiled at me once or twice, probably knowing my bum was stinging pretty good. I’m sure she had a lot of spanking experience, probably when her kids were a bit younger. Most women paddling a boy for the first time would have gone much easier to start with, but Val had the measure just right. Well, maybe she could have gone a little easier – I still had a mark on my behind three days later when we flew home. I’m not sure how long the ordeal lasted, but Vera had fully and completely paid homage to Lucille at her disciplinarian-best before she finally stopped. But boy, did this news ever take the shine off my day! I was pissed off. I tried to be cool and convince myself it wasn’t as much fun as a ride in the Mustang, but inside I was screaming with frustration. I would have killed to have been there and to join in. OK, it wasn’t an over-the-knee spanking, but a paddling for fun had been missed. Now it was Tasha’s turn – her long-suffering spanker was getting impatient so she should complete the task , or else. Besides, it was getting a little cold. English graveyards are never warm. So, Tasha without much further ado, unbuttoned the dungarees. The flaps unflapped, hooks were unhooked and buttons undone, until at last the trews and panties came down (not Raeger but M&S) revealing a sight of total delight – a deeper-cheeked rear of width and girth. Penny gave out a cry of delight – “what an inheritance my dearest friend – your splendid bottom bare – which in time will no doubt be passed on to generations yet unborn”.

This very naughty little boy needs his bottom spanked hard and he’s refusing to obey me – can you help me with him, please?” I’m sure Aunt Pam deliberately used humiliating, babyish language. This angered me and I became quite sullen and sulky. The two families are still great friends, and we visit each other quite regularly. I have never mentioned anything about that day since to Val, although I’ve always wanted to ask if she was just messing about. I suspect I’ll never get a straight answer. As far as I know, nobody knew anything about that paddling except us two. I certainly didn’t mention it to anyone. Few houses in the UK have a basement, so it was such a novelty for me. I loved the fact that their basement was used for a games room and storage and laundry. There was a spare TV and a sofa for anyone who wanted to watch an alternative programme. Yes. Yes, I do,” I blurted after only a short pause, sensing a slight twitch in the paddle resting on my hypersensitive behind.

Two more to go. I’ll lay these on a bit, honey, OK?” What? Lay them on! What the hell were the other six? Fun pats? Finally, Aunt Pam asked Doreen to give me three strokes of the cane, while she continued to hold me firmly over her knee. Doreen duly obliged. The cane strokes weren’t too hard, but they did bite. Now Penny, my dear”, said Tasha “I know I have been out of line as chum and deserve attentions to my bare bum. May I say, we’ve just had a masterclass in how it’s done from Mrs F, shall we set to?” She took hold of my chin and looked me in the eye. “You’ve got the face of an angel and hands that are a gift from God. Now let’s see if you’ve got a nice little bottom that the Lord made for spanking, shall we? Take your trousers down!”It turned out that while we’d been away from the house, the children from the visiting family had discovered a spanking paddle in the basement. Apparently they had been given permission to look through some old boxes for some reason and had found the paddle. All the way down to the basement, my excitement grew. In my fantasy I had only ever wanted a spanking, but a paddling would be just as exciting. In my head, I kept thinking: “I’m being taken to the basement for a paddling!” This thought still plays a part in my fantasies to this day. That remark stung, probably because it was so true. In my depressed state, I had done no housework since a few days before Lucille’s demise, and the house had reached a condition that would certainly have earned me a very severe paddling over Lucille’s knee if I ever let it get even a tenth as sloppy while she was still alive. I stepped up to it and bent forward – at a stretch, I could just reach the far side. I was on tiptoe and, as it was really warm weather, I was wearing only thin shorts! “Like this?” I asked. “Aha – spread your legs a little wider.” I then felt her hand run over my bottom briefly. She gave my shorts a little tug to pull them tight, then patted my behind a few times gently with her hand. “Perfect!” I heard her say.