Note: This competition is now closed.
Summer's over. It's official, It must be because this is the End of Summer Spanks and if seasons
aren't officially observed through spanky bloghops, they jolly well should be.
I am
insanely excited to be involved in this bloghop. Partly because it gives me the chance to share my 'Back to School' spanking story with my lovely readers. But mostly because I get to reveal
the most awesome prize that's ever been offered anywhere by anyone to anyone.
Guaranteed.
Prepare yourselves. Perhaps find a comfortable seat and some smelling salts. Because, today, you have the opportunity to become the owner of your very own
Etta Stark Mug!
Oh yes. This little beauty could be
yours to use however you see fit. You can use it for your favourite morning beverage such as tea, coffee or vodka martini. Or to store pencils. Or toothbrushes. Or maybe give it to the gentleman in your life for use as a
penis beaker.
 |
| Just add penis |
Whatever you choose to do with it, I can assure you that your life will be
immeasurably improved by having an Etta Stark mug in it. "How can I win this wondrous object?" I hear you ask in that melodic - yet slightly demanding - voice of yours. Well, I'll tell you.
To win the prize, simply enter your email address where it says 'Sign Up for Occasional Awesome Emails' at the top right of this page and click 'submit'.
Then I can drop you the occasional email when something really exciting happens such as releasing a new book or I discover the true meaning of life or... no, that's probably it. I won;t email you about anything else. I don't want to take advantage of your good natures.
I'll be in touch after the Summer Spanks weekend and let you know if you are the lucky winner.
And if you aren't lucky enough to win The Most Awesome Mug In The Whole World
TM (and even if you are, come to think of it), there are a whole host of Wonderful and Amazing Summer Spanks prizes being given away by
Spanking Romance including Amazon gift certificates, an e-reader and a
handmade paddle. To be in with a chance of winning one of these great prizes,
please leave a comment on this post.
Remember to check out the linky list at the bottom of this post and visit all the other lovely bloggers who are participating in the bloghop.
Below is my Summer Spanks story. You can also
download it is as PDF if you want to pop it on your kindle and read it later at your leisure.
Old School
Discipline
Philippa
Montgomery stood at the impressive oak door at the entrance to the Old Building
at St Neots Academy and banged the brass knocker. She was trying to suppress
any first day nerves but it wasn’t easy. This was it. The dream job. The one
she had wanted since she’d qualified as a teacher.
Above the entrance
was the school motto: “Poenam amplio moribus.” Punishment improves character. It made Philippa smile. St Neots had
a long, proud history of administering corporal punishment and the motto must
have been incredibly apt when the school was founded five hundred years ago but
now that corporal punishment in school had been outlawed for several decades it
seemed a little outdated. She couldn’t imagine that St Neots would change it
though. Tradition is important.
The door was
opened by Peter Waldegrave, Head of History and Philippa’s new boss. She hadn’t
seen him since her job interview and was she hoped that she might find him
slightly less intimidating than she did then.
It was hard not to be intimidated by the man. She
found herself going dry at the mouth as she looked up at him. He was at least
6’4” with black hair, ice-blue eyes and a slightly forbidding expression his
chiselled face that made Philippa want to either run away or reach up and stroke
his cheekbones. Fortunately, she did neither.
“Philippa,
good to see you. The Porter let me know you were on your way over. Did you have
a good journey?”
“Yes, thank
you, Mr Waldegrave.”
A shadow of
a smile passed over his face. “Please. Call me Peter. I’ll take your bag for
you.”
It wasn’t
phrased as a question and Philippa automatically allowed Peter to take her
suitcase from her.
He strode
across the impressive entrance hall and headed to the huge open staircase. She
trotted after him. “Thank you so much for agreeing to let me move in so far
ahead of the start of term,” she said. “I only got back from Dubai two days ago.
It’s so much easier being able to come straight here than having to find
somewhere to live for the next five weeks before the start of term.”
“It’s no
problem at all. I am here all summer anyway. I’m writing the History of St
Neots Academy as you know so it makes sense to be in situ while I write it.”
“It sounds a
fascinating project. I’ll try not to disturb your work.”
He looked
back over his shoulder; his eyes flickered over her briefly. “I am sure you
won’t” he said. “There’s some staff in residence over in the New Building all
summer but over here, it will be just us two for the next three weeks.”
Referring to
the main school building as ‘The New Building’ was a tradition which had been
in place for the last two hundred years. It was constructed in the early nineteenth
century and could only be considered new in comparison to the rest of the
school buildings.
At the first
floor landing, Peter pushed open a door which led to a corridor. “Make sure you
pull the door shut behind you,” he said. “Otherwise it will bang.” Philippa
pulled the door and followed Peter down the corridor. He opened another door
which led to dormitories and Philippa had only followed a few steps before he
stopped and turned to face her. “The door, Philippa.” he said simply.
“Oh, right.
Sorry.” said Philippa rushing back to close the door properly.
“This will
be your room,” he said when they reached a small self contained set of rooms
near to one of the girls dormitories. “I
presume you are well acquainted with the layout of the school and its grounds.”
“Well, yes. I used to go here, you know.”
“I do know.
You were here for the very first year female students were accepted into the
sixth form. You are an important part of the school’s history.”
“It was a
privilege to come here. The reception we got wasn’t entirely positive at the
time, of course. There were plenty of people who thought that St Neots should
remain boys only. And now the school is completely co-educational. I liked to
think we female sixth-formers paved the way for that.”
“Indeed. You
and your fellow students were groundbreakers. I was taught here too, as a boy.
Clearly there’s something about St Neots that draws its former pupils back. Feel
free to wander around wherever you like and get your bearings. I must warn you the kitchens are unstaffed
and pretty empty at this time of year. However, I have what passes for a
kitchenette in my rooms. You would be welcome to join me for dinner this
evening.”
“Oh... um...
yes, that would be delightful. Thank you.” She felt herself become flustered
again by her gorgeous intimidating boss. He
wasn’t asking you out on a date, you know, she scolded herself.
“I will see
you at seven then. St Dunstan’s wing. I need to get back to work.”
With that he
removed himself from her room and Philippa was left to her own devices. It was
truly marvellous to be back at the old place. She loved St Neots with its
imposing buildings and centuries of tradition. Getting a job here as a history
teacher was a dream come true.
Wanting to
reacquaint herself with the old place, she headed to the Old Building library.
It wasn’t the biggest library at the school but it was certainly the most
interesting for a historian. It was in the oldest part of the building, its
shelves of antiquarian books reached up to the ceiling and on its far wall were
portraits of many of the school’s illustrious Head Masters. Each one looking
stern and intimidating in his mortar board and gown,
Glass cases inside
the library contained numerous artefacts
relating the school’s history. Philippa had spent plenty of time here as a
student and was immediately drawn to her favourite case.
The tall
glass case contained a leather bound ledger, opened to a date in 1780 and
headed ‘Punishment Book’. There was also a birch and several canes. Philippa
recognised the objects like old friends. She dreaded to think how many hours
she had probably spent staring at this display as a student. Corporal
punishment had been abolished before Philippa had attended the school but the
subject had fascinated her for as long as she could remember.
She noticed to her surprise that the lock
which normally held it closed was open. She tentatively pushed it and the glass
panel swung open. She took a deep breath and almost reverently picked up one of
the rattan canes. She felt a shiver go through her as she held the historic
artefact.
The sound of
a throat being cleared behind her startled her from her reverie. She jumped and
quickly replaced the cane in the cabinet before turning to face Peter
shamefacedly.
“It is not permissible
to remove objects from the display cases,” Peter said sternly.
“I’m sorry.
I know I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I suspect
that your professional inquisitiveness got the better of you,” said Peter, the
corner of his mouth turning up into what was almost a smile.
He strode
forward and stood beside her at the display case. “So what do you know of that
object?” he asked.
Feeling like
she was being quizzed on her specialist subject, Philippa replied, “That
particular cane belonged to Sebastian Clutton who was Head Master here in the
early nineteenth century. A man with a remarkable enthusiasm for bestowing corporal
punishment, even by the high standards set in this place. The punishment book
there was also his.”
Peter
nodded. “Very good. As you know, he meticulously recorded the details of each
and every one of the hundreds of beatings he meted out to his pupils. I have had
the privilege of studying his diaries for my book, you know. He kept meticulous
notes there as well. And it turns out that he didn’t just punish students. He was
an enthusiastic deliverer of physical punishments to all the female staff as
well. Disciplining schoolboys was a duty. Disciplining maidservants was clearly
something of a hobby.”
Philippa’s
eyes widened. “He wrote about it?” she asked.
“At great
length. There was one maid in particular, Molly Beaton, whose punishments get
the most florid descriptions. He spanked
her on her very first day for bringing his shaving water up late and continued
to spank her on a regular basis for the rest of his time as Head Master. Given
that she was in her sixties and Clutton in his eighties by the time he took
retirement, I don’t think she objected too strongly to his methods of
discipline.”
Peter’s ice-blue eyes were watching her intently. Did
he have any idea, she wondered, how very turned on he was making her? The first
time he’d said the word ‘spank’ she’d almost had to stifle a moan.
“Come with
me, Philippa,” he said, briskly. “I want to show you something.”
He took her
to through to the history classrooms. Philippa looked around her hardly daring
to believe that she would soon be teaching in these very classrooms.
“There’s a
store cupboard here that you might find elucidating. Given your apparent area
of interest.”
He unlocked
the door to a large cupboard and turned on the light. There was an abundance of
items inside from school trophies to framed maps and old-fashioned school desks
with ink holders.
“What with
my interest in the school’s history, I have a tendency to hoard. I thought
those might of interest to you.” He nodded towards the wall and Philippa
followed his gaze.
“Oh,” she
said quietly.
Hanging on
the wall, each from its own individual peg were four school canes.
“Not as old
as the ones in the library, admittedly. But you are allowed to pick these ones up.”
Philippa
couldn’t resist she reached up and unhooked the nearest cane from its peg. Examining
the smooth rattan cane, she wondered about its history. How many recalcitrant
backsides had been caned by this object?
“How old are
these ones?” she asked.
“Hard to
tell. It’s not like there were distinctive fashions in canes over the years. Relatively
recent I’d say. 1960s or 1970s most likely. Caning was still regularly carried
out then.”
“Was there
caning when you were a pupil here?”
Peter smiled.
It was probably the first full smile she’d seen on him. He should do it more
often she thought. He was good-looking beforehand. When he smiled, he was
breathtaking.
“Ah well, I
am an important part of St Neots history too in that regard. I have the dubious
honour of being the last boy ever caned at this school.”
Philippa
laughed. “Is that something to be proud of or ashamed of, I wonder?”
“A little of
both I think.”
“What did
you do?”
“I smuggled
a young lady from the nearby girls’ school into my study in the middle of the
night.”
“What for?”
He let out a
short bark of laughter. “I was seventeen years old. If you can’t imagine what
the young lady and I intended to get up to then you may need to work on your deductive
reasoning.”
“Oh.” Philippa
blushed and then blushed still further as she tried to formulate her next
question. “And the girl, did she get caned too?”
Peter raised
an eyebrow. “No. It wouldn’t have been likely anyway. But after we were caught,
we decided to represent her as the poor innocent misguided soul who was led
astray by my wicked ways. It seemed the best way of avoiding us both getting in
trouble over it.”
“What a
gentleman you were.”
Another
laugh. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”
“Did it
hurt? The caning, I mean?”
“Of course. That
was the point. But it was preferable to expulsion.”
“Do you
think corporal punishment should be reinstated?” she asked.
Peter shook
his head. “God no, I think we’re better off without it, don’t you? Although,”
he continued thoughtfully. “I think there is one exception I would like to make
to that.”
He was
looking at her in such a way that it turned her insides to mush.
“What’s
that?” she said quietly.
“I think I
could support Sebastian Clutton’s policy of administering corporal punishment
to the female staff. What do you think? Do you think the occasional sound
spanking would help you do your job better?”
“I... I...” Philippa
spluttered. His words had lit a fire directly within in her. She was so turned
on by his last question that she could barely formulate a sentence. “I’m not a
maidservant!” she spluttered out and then cursed herself. Might he take that as
a ‘no’?
“No, obviously,
you’re not a maidservant. You’re a history teacher. There weren’t any female
teachers in Clutton’s day; if there had been, perhaps he would have taken great
delight in punishing them too. As your line manager at St Neots, it falls into
my remit to deal with you over any disciplinary matters. Do you know why I came
down to the library earlier?”
“No,” said
Philippa.
“After
expressly telling you to shut the doors properly earlier, you managed to leave
not just one but both of them ajar after you left your room. I found it
impossible to work with the doors banging and came down to tell you of it.”
Embarrassment
flooded her face. What an idiot she was. She had completely forgotten what he
had told her about the doors. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled.
“Well what
with that and touching historic artefacts without permission, I believe you
have a punishment coming. Do you agree?”
Philippa
stared at the tall, gorgeous, domineering man in front of her and, terrified as
she was, felt like all her Christmases had come at once.
“Yes,” she
said hoarsely.
“Hand me the
cane, Philippa.” he said.
She did as
instructed. He held the cane in his right hand and swished it through the air. He
then took hold of Philippa’s arm and led her gently to one of the desks in the
classroom.
“Are you
ready for your caning?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Bend over
the desk.”
Philippa complied. She was wearing a formal
black skirt with a white shirt and high heels. This was her first day in her
new job after all. She had wanted to look smart.
Peter took her
skirt and lifted it up above her hips and then pushed her knickers to the side
slipping his finger inside of her.
Philippa was
surprised by his action but didn’t object. It felt good to have him touch her
there, even though she was so wet it was almost embarrassing. She was
practically dripping onto her shoes.
Peter
chucked. “Good girl. I see you’re very ready indeed.” He withdrew his finger
and walked over to a neighbouring desk from where he pulled out a chair.
Seating himself he patted his lap. “Over my lap, Philippa. I think a warm-up
spanking would be in order first.”
“A warm-up
spanking?” she asked cheekily. “Is that historically accurate?”
“No. Think
of it as a concession to the caring, compassionate twenty-first century. I’m all
heart like that. Now get over my lap.”
She placed
herself carefully across his thighs and then shrieked as he pulled her
forwards, tipping her so that her hands were on the floor and her bottom was
raised high in the air. He pushed her skirt out of the way and yanked her knickers
down to her knees.
Then he
spanked her bottom. Hard. She tried not to wriggle as the firm had swats rained
down on her bottom, but it was difficult. She resisted the urge to shield her bottom
with her hands. This had been her number one sexual fantasy for the last
goodness knows how many years. She couldn’t believe it was finally happening.
She also couldn’t believe how much it hurt.
After Peter
had successfully turned her bottom into a furnace he stood her up in front of
him. “Right that’s the warm up done. Time for your caning.”
Philippa
panicked slightly at that. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. But
she didn’t want him to stop. Peter led her to the desk and bent her over it.
Her skirt was still round her waist and her backside was once again exposed to
his view.
“Just four
strokes, I think, as you are new to this,” he said.
Philippa
wondered briefly how new he was and
then the first cut of the cane vanquished any thoughts from her mind.
She yelled
out at the sudden rush of pain in her backside.
She heard the second stroke of the cane whistling through the air as it
came down. Once more her backside exploded in pain. The third stoke hit her
lower down on her backside, its sting making tears spring to Philippa’s eyes
despite her best efforts to stop them.
“Last one,”
said Peter. “You’re doing well.”
“The last
stroke of the cane came down on the very lowest part of her buttocks where her cheeks
met her thighs. Philippa screamed out at the pain and gripped the desk tightly.
Even once he had stopped, the pain in her backside was overwhelming. She was
sore beyond all her expectations and, god, she was more turned on than she had
ever been in her life. Peter pulled up her panties with a jerk and the touch of
the cotton against her pussy was almost more that Philippa could bear. She felt
like she was seconds away from reaching orgasm.
“You took
your punishment admirably,” he said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you
... sir.” she said, still bent over the desk.
Peter
laughed. “ I like you calling me ‘sir’” he said. “Up you get now.”
She did. Her
face was scarlet, her hair was all over the place and her cheeks were streaked
with tears. And yet Philippa had never felt more sexy or more wanton than she
did right now.
If Peter
felt the same way, however, he wasn’t
giving anything away.
“Right,” he
said briskly. “I need to get back to work. Are you still coming to my rooms for
dinner at seven?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. I’ll
see you then.” He began to walk off.
“Aren’t you
going to put that back in the store cupboard?” asked Philippa looking at the
cane that Peter was still holding.
He laughed.
“Oh no. This is coming up to my rooms with me. I have a feeling that I am going
to find plenty more opportunities to use it.”
She heard Lord Westbrook approach behind her and realised that her wanderings had brought her to the bedroom. She had been standing by the footboard, staring at the bed in deep contemplation. It was perhaps, not the most subtle of places for Lord Westbrook to happen upon her.
