by Philip Kemp
‘Perhaps it was because you were the naughtiest,’ I suggested.
‘Perhaps so. But I’m sure the shapeliness of my bottom had a great deal to do with it. On one occasion, as Dr Natesby was lowering my drawers prior to punishing me, he quoted Shakespeare (for he was a most cultured gentleman, as well as a dedicated disciplinarian), saying, ‘‘There’s a Divinity that shapes our ends’’. He added that, since mine had been so ideally shaped to receive chastisement, it was his duty to fulfil the designs of Providence by spanking it vigorously and often.’
‘I can quite see that the reverend gentleman might feel the need to invoke a lofty religious purpose,’ I responded. ‘But for my part, I feel the fact that you are such an impudent girl, and endowed with so exquisitely spankable a bottom, is quite sufficient reason that you should be punished in this fashion. But enough of this talk, young lady,’ I added, raising my hand. ‘Despite Dr Natesby’s laudable attentions, your wanton behaviour indicates that far too long has elapsed since your last chastisement. It is high time, my dear cousin, that you were spanked as you so richly deserve!’
Lucy gasped as my hand connected with the ripe curve of her right bottom-cheek with a smack that rang round the compartment; then yelped as her left cheek received equally smart treatment. I paused to admire the twin pink hand-shapes that now adorned the creamy mounds, then settled down to spanking the saucy little minx hard and steadily, relishing the way her soft young cheeks jiggled and quivered as I smacked them.
‘Ooh! Ow!’ At each spank, Lucy emitted little yelps and squeals of mingled pain and excitement. ‘Help! Oh that hurts! Oh, no more, Victor, I beg you! I’m sorry! Ow! I’ll be good, I promise! Oh, not so hard, I beg you! Help! I’m sorry, truly I am! Oh no more, pleeease!’ But for all her cries, and her wriggling and kicking, she made no real attempt to escape, and it was clear that she was enjoying her chastisement just as much as I was.
So I spanked away to my heart’s content, smacking Lucy’s peachy bottom both left and right, and taking good care to cover every inch of the luscious target area, from flank to flank of her cheeks, and down to the sweet tender undercurve where bottom meets thigh. Ere long a warm blush suffused the full expanse of her bouncing bare bottom-cheeks, steadily deepening through pink and red to a rich glowing crimson. It was a beautiful sight, and one to gladden the heart – and stiffen the prick – of any devotee of the gentle art of chastising deserving young ladies.
‘Well now, my girl,’ I said, pausing briefly in my task to stroke her fiery mounds and admire the delicious spectacle, ‘you are truly blushing for your misbehaviour. This saucy bottom is turning very rosy indeed, and looks all the prettier for it. In fact, I think it should often be tinged this fine roseate colour, and, while you remain in my care, my dear cousin, I shall see to it that you get well spanked every day. Meanwhile, we shall not reach Worcester for over ten minutes, so I have ample time to make these naughty cheeks blush yet more vividly.’ So saying, I resumed my delightful task.
‘Oooh! Victor, you are a rotten beast!’ wailed Lucy. ‘Help! My poor bum is on fire! I promise to behave! Oww! Oh stop, please!’
But I was in no hurry to stop. Poised as she was on the very cusp of adulthood, Lucy’s bottom presented an irresistible combination: yielding, girlish softness along with the lush fullness of maturity. Can there be any more delectably spankable a creature than a pretty, shapely seventeen-year-old girl? So, as the Worcestershire countryside sped by, I continued joyfully to smack her plump squirming globes, their radiant blush contrasting exquisitely with the whiteness of her waist and thighs. Not until we were within five minutes of Worcester did I relent, pausing to relish the rich crimson hue that now mantled Lucy’s trembling, soundly-spanked bottom.
‘Now, young lady,’ I told her, ‘this shameless bottom has had the spanking it so richly deserved. Consider yourself lucky, though, that there was no hairbrush to hand. After a naughty girl has been soundly hand-spanked, I find a good hard smacking with a wooden hairbrush adds the perfect finishing touch. At home I have the very article, and I shall take pleasure in acquainting you with it at the earliest opportunity. But for now I’ll let you off with just one dozen more good hard spanks, and your punishment will be over – for now, at least.’
‘Owww-ooooh!’ squealed Lucy, as five ringing smacks landed in rapid succession on the roseate curve of her right bottom-cheek. ‘Waaa-haaah!’
Five on the left, to even the score. Finally, to round things off nicely, I placed one farewell stinger, laid on with full force, on each tender undercurve. These final spanks, much to my satisfaction, elicited the shrillest squeals yet from my pretty young cousin.
Her spanking over, Lucy lay limp and gasping over my lap. I caressed her hot tender bottom-cheeks before letting her slide off my knee to the floor, where she lay gingerly rubbing her flaming orbs.
‘Oooh! Owww! Oh my poor bottom!’ she complained, pouting up at me reproachfully. ‘Victor, how could you, you beast? You spank even harder than old Natey! Oww, I’m on fire! That was most severe – you’re very cruel!’ But her eyes were sparkling, and her lascivious wrigglings were clearly not caused solely by the smarting of her rear. I too felt exceedingly randy, and was sorely tempted to join her where she lay and roger her vigorously there and then. But the countryside through which we had been passing was giving way to urban streets as we neared Worcester. Raising my cousin from the floor, I helped her pull her drawers back up over her rosy curves and rearrange her dress.
As the train drew into Worcester station, I was in a fever of apprehension that our solitude might be intruded upon by other travellers. If that were the case, my frustration would be almost intolerable. The train slowed, and I saw to my dismay that the concourse was busy. However, I had counted without Lucy’s resourcefulness. Opening the window and leaning out, the shameless child blandly enquired of those who approached our compartment whether or not they had been inoculated against the malaria. ‘My poor cousin,’ said she, ‘has but recently recovered from a serious bout, though we trust he is no longer infectious –’
So efficacious was this ruse that, when the train pulled out, we still had the compartment wholly to ourselves. Lucy, quite unabashed, pulled her head in and turned to me with a delighted grin. ‘Now, dear Victor,’ she exclaimed, embracing me ardently, ‘pray do not delay! The warmth of my bottom is communicating itself to my pussy, and I am eager to feel your prick plunging into me!’
I was far too aroused to chide her for the immodesty of her language. Instead, I hastened to release my rampant penis from its confinement.
Lucy viewed it with unalloyed delight. ‘Oh! what a beauty!’ she exclaimed. ‘Does he stand so proudly because you so enjoyed spanking my bottom?’
‘I am sure that has contributed to his stiffness,’ I responded. ‘But you are a lovely girl, Lucy, and I think the prospect of fucking you would cause many a man to stand proud – even had he not had the pleasure of spanking your soft bottom beforehand.’
‘Dear Victor,’ cried Lucy, ‘you say the sweetest things!’ Leaning forwards, she gave me a long kiss, while grasping the shaft of my prick and squeezing it gently. ‘Oh, how hard he is! If this is what comes of your spanking me, dear cousin, you may spank me just as often as you like! Now quickly, Victor, quickly,’ she breathed, bending to kiss the head of my engorged manhood, ‘I long to have you inside me!’
I needed no further urging. As her bottom was too sore for her to lie under me she turned and, resting her upper torso on the seat, presented her roseate rump that I might take her a tergo. I was delighted to do so, and thrust joyfully into her tight wet little cunny. As I entered her fully, it enhanced my ardour to feel the blazing mounds of her tender bottom against my belly. So aroused were we both by this stage that, very quickly, we came together in an ecstatic climax. I only hope that the first-class compartments of the Great North-Western Railway were well sound-proofed, or our fellow travellers on either side may have been a trifle alarmed.
Afterwards
, we reclined together on the seat, and I held the sweet girl in my arms, kissing her firm young breasts and gently caressing the still-glowing curves of her well-spanked bottom. ‘Who would have thought,’ I mused, ‘that the trick you played on Mrs Huskinson would lead to so delightful a consequence?’
‘Oh, as to that,’ she replied with a mischievous smile, ‘that wasn’t entirely true.’
‘What? But Gwyneth said . . .’
Lucy giggled. ‘Oh, yes, it’s true that Matron wasn’t well this morning. But that was due to her overindulgence in porter the night before. What I told you about the laxative was just wishful thinking.’
I gazed at her in bewilderment. ‘But why on earth did you concoct such a tale?’
‘Why? Dear Victor, can’t you guess? To induce you to spank me, of course. From the moment I first saw you, on the platform at Shrewsbury, I was resolved to have you. Few men, I’ve found, can resist spanking my bottom if given the least excuse; and from spanking to fucking I knew would be an easy transition.’
To say I was flabbergasted would fall far short of the truth. ‘Why,’ I gasped, ‘you artful little minx! Lucy, I have a good mind to put you back across my knee here and now. Clearly, I failed to spank you nearly hard enough. Think yourself very lucky, my girl, that I have no hairbrush with me.’
‘Oh, but I have a hairbrush in my case,’ Lucy announced with her most demure smile. ‘Shall I retrieve it for you, dear cousin?’
17
Wilde Times – The Missing
Spanking Scene from The
Importance of Being Earnest
OSCAR WILDE IS usually pegged as gay. But his status as gay icon and martyr obscures the fact that for a long time he was happily, and very physically, married. And during his first American tour, it’s said, he took full and vigorous advantage of the facilities when invited to a cathouse in Colorado. So, bisexual at the least. But was he into spanking? A recent discovery by the tireless researchers of the Camden Institute for Disciplinary Studies suggests that maybe he was.
The find consists of several sheets of pale-mauve vellum writing paper that still, after all these years, retain a faint fleeting odour of patchouli oil. On them, in emerald-green ink, is what appears to be an early version of the opening of Act III of Wilde’s most famous play, The Importance of Being Earnest. Leading Wilde scholars have pronounced the handwriting to be indubitably Oscar’s.
Preceding events: Act II of the play is set in the garden of Mr Jack Worthing’s country house, where Cecily Cardew, Jack’s young ward, and Gwendolen Fairfax, daughter of the formidable Lady Bracknell, meet for the first time. Each girl believes herself engaged to a certain Ernest Worthing. It emerges that Gwendolen’s fiancé is, in fact, Jack, while Cecily’s fiancé is really Jack’s friend (and Gwendolen’s cousin) Algernon Moncrieff. Both men, for reasons far too complicated to go into, have been calling themselves Ernest Worthing. Shocked at this revelation, the two girls flounce scornfully off into the house, leaving Jack and Algernon to discuss the situation as Act II ends.
ACT THREE
SCENE I: Drawing room at the Manor House, Woolton. GWENDOLEN and CECILY are at the window, looking out into the garden.
GWENDOLEN: The fact that they did not follow us at once into the house, as anyone else would have done, seems to me to show that they have some sense of shame left.
CECILY: They have been eating muffins. That looks like repentance.
GWENDOLEN: And tea-cake. That looks like inconsolable grief. Oh! They’re looking at us. What effrontery!
CECILY: I do believe they’re talking about us. That least shows a proper sense of priorities.
GWENDOLEN: They seem to have reached a decision.
CECILY: They’re approaching. They appear very resolute.
GWENDOLEN: When one man is resolute, that may indicate strength of character. When two men are united in resolve, their purpose is usually deplorable. Let us preserve a dignified silence.
CECILY: Certainly. It’s the only thing to do.
Enter JACK and ALGERNON. JACK looks serious; ALGERNON is grinning.
JACK: We are agreed. Between you, you have utterly exposed our respective subterfuges. We find this most inconsiderate of you.
GWENDOLEN and CECILY (together): Oh!
ALGERNON: Deception is the essence of civilised society. If we all went around demolishing one another’s deceptions, what would become of polite conversation?
JACK: Or of sound business practice?
ALGERNON: Or of political principles?
JACK: Or of the Church of England? Besides, behaviour such as yours sets a most pernicious example to your elders.
ALGERNON: Young ladies have no business setting bad examples. There will be plenty of time for that once you are married.
CECILY (indignantly): But what of the bad example you have set us, in misleading us as to your names and characters?
JACK: Young gentlemen are supposed to mislead young ladies. That is what courtship is all about. There is no place in it for brutal honesty.
ALGERNON: There will be plenty of time for that once we are married.
JACK: Besides, you have done us an even more unforgivable injury.
GWENDOLEN (haughtily): And what was that, pray?
ALGERNON: By retiring so abruptly from the tea-table, you left us with no alternative but to finish all the muffins.
JACK: And the tea-cake.
ALGERNON: Our constitutions may never recover. We shall probably live out wretchedly blighted lives as martyrs to indigestion. And martyrs are notoriously unwelcome in good society. They expect to be persecuted, and sulk intolerably if they are not.
JACK: In short, we feel that your conduct has been quite unforgivable.
GWENDOLEN: Then why have you followed us indoors?
ALGERNON: In order to forgive you.
CECILY: Oh, that shows generosity of spirit. I admire that in a man.
GWENDOLEN: And a total absence of logic. I admire that even more.
ALGERNON: However, we feel that we cannot forgive you –
GWENDOLEN: Oh!
CECILY: How vexing!
ALGERNON: Until we have spanked you for behaving so badly.
GWENDOLEN and CECILY (horrified): Spanked us!
JACK: Decidedly. Do I take it that you object?
GWENDOLEN: Of course I object. I have never been spanked – or, at least, not recently. I should find it most humiliating.
CECILY: I have never been spanked at all. I should find it most exciting – I mean, outrageous.
ALGERNON: Your objections are cogent, and deserve to be considered at length. Accordingly, we shall postpone consideration of them until you’ve been spanked. Action is always improved by a little thought after the event.
ALGERNON advances on CECILY, who backs away, her eyes shining with excitement. JACK advances purposefully on GWENDOLEN.
GWENDOLEN: Mr Worthing! Are you offering violence to my person?
JACK: Offering? Certainly not. You might decline, and think how humiliating that would be. I intend to bestow it, which bespeaks generosity on my part, and furthermore relieves you of the tiresome burden of choice. You may express your gratitude in due course.
He takes her by the wrist and sits down on an upright chair, drawing her down over his lap.
GWENDOLEN: Oh! How dare you! Let me go at once! This is shameful!
JACK: Surely not. Punishment is recommended by the best authorities as a means of making people better, and indeed I feel better already. In a few minutes’ time I’m sure I shall feel positively seraphic. (He begins to turn up her skirts.)
ALGERNON has captured CECILY, who puts up an unconvincing show of resistance. He leads her over to an upholstered pouffe, sits down upon it and puts her across his knee.
CECILY: No, Algy! Don’t! Do you take me for a child?
ALGERNON: Oh, by no means, darling. Spanking is far too good to be wasted on children. (He flips up her skirt and slip, revealing a neat but sweetly rounded
bottom clad in white linen drawers. He strokes it delightedly.) Dear Cecily, I always said that your person was absolute perfection. Here is further proof of my discernment. You are quite perfectly, adorably spankable.
CECILY: Darling, you say the sweetest things! But then why has Uncle Jack never spanked me?
ALGERNON: Quite clearly, the deficiency of his taste regarding neckties extends also to the spankability of girls. (He starts to lower her drawers.)
GWENDOLEN (attempting a withering glare, which is not easy from a prone position): Algy, that is most offensive! Jack is about to spank me. And no one has ever accused me of not being spankable.
JACK (caressing the voluptuous curves of her silk-clad bottom): Indeed you are, my darling – deliciously spankable. I am about to prove it to my complete satisfaction – and yours, I hope. Algy, you wretch, apologise to your cousin at once!
ALGERNON: Later, perhaps. At present I should find the unaccustomed effort quite distracting. And to give anything less than my full attention to Cecily’s first spanking would be inexcusable. She would have cause to doubt my utter devotion to her.
ALGERNON starts to spank CECILY soundly on her bare bottom. She squeals and kicks her legs.
CECILY: Aah! Ohh! It stings so! Algy, do all spankings hurt so much? Ow-oww!
ALGERNON: Only when they’re done properly, my darling.
