Spanking Elizabeth

“I think, young Elizabeth,” He said to me. “I think that you are being a bad girl.”

Now that was a matter of opinion, but it was also the beginning of the sort of conversation that tends to go only in one direction. As it was a direction I was happy for it to go in, I played along. After all it was a Saturday morning (just a week go) the man in question was rather nice and he was in my bed while I was considering what clothes I should wear for something we were going to in the evening . We had already shared what friend of mine refers to as “A beautiful moment” after which, snuggled in the pillows we had enjoyed a tray of coffee, so now we were in a wonderfully relaxed mood and had all the time in the world to explore a few ideas.







“Bad?” I said giving him my best innocent stare my eyes wide and limpid. “How could you possibly say that about a good little girl like me?” It’s true that at that very second I was at that stage in dressing best described as ‘between clothes’, but had he been any sort of gentleman he should have been averting his eyes.






He sat up a bit further, the gleam in his eyes a fraction brighter than it had been before. “Well you are making something of an exhibition of yourself.”

Just between ourselves I suppose I had been, but after the first night with a somewhat gorgeous man naturally I was subtly reminding him that he had done rather well for himself. Of course I couldn’t admit that to him though.

“Sorry if I’m offending you.” I said. “Let me cover up.” And I slipped on a garment that I can’t even describe save to say that it’s short transparent and floaty “Is that better?” I asked him giving a little twirl. “Is that more modest for you?”






“It might just better.” He said, his voice now a low growl. “It might just look better with stockings!”

Well why not, so I gave him Elizabeth in stockings,





and then a tried on a few other combinations that I knew would press all the right buttons







and after a while of this he was sitting on the end of the bed, every inch of him electric with anticipation.

“There’s still no getting out of it.” He said, his hands lightly on my stockinged thighs. “You really are being a bad girl!”





But, just suppose that I am……” and I let the sentence hover between us for a moment. “Not that I’m admitting it, but if I am, what should the punishment?”

We were now both on fire, knowing we had started something that had its own momentum. “ I think,” he said , and he was kissing me now and I could feel his erection throbbing against me. “I think I’ve got no choice but to give you a good spanking.”

“A spanking!” I breathed, my voice tinged with a mixture of horror and excited anticipation. “Not actually spank me!”









“I can’t see that I’ve got any choice.”

“Does that mean …..?” I was savouring every second of this now, dwelling on each little detail. “That you going to put me over your knee?”

“Exactly!” He said . “A proper old fashioned spanking. Across my knee with your knickers down.” And I’m sure that even as he said it we both had an image of me in that exact position.







“No!” I said backing off. “That would be so,….” And I was on the far side of the room, pressing close to the wall as if trying to escape ”So humiliating!”






“It’s your own fault!” He said coming across to get me. “You chose to flaunt yourself , so you’ve got to take the consequences.”

Moments later he was sitting on the end of the bed and he had pulled my over his knee , stroking his hand over my upturned bottom as if it were a piece of art to be appreciated and savoured.








“If you tell me you deserve it,” He said , his hands now up inside my panties and making me squirm with arousal. “I won’t be so hard on you.”

“Well in that case, Sir,” and I paused for him to take in how I was addressing him. “I’ve been a very naughty girl and I deserve to be given a good hard spanking.”

“With your knickers down.” He prompted me and I went along with it, every one of our carefully chosen words arousing me further.

“With my knickers down.”




So what else shall I tell you about that Saturday morning; only what I’m sure you already know. He pulled my knickers down,



gave me a long thorough spanking,






took a moment off to remind me just how much I had deserved it then spanked me some more to get the point across while I wriggled and gasped,





and then he brought me up on his lap to make it better.

“Are you going to be a good girl from now on?” He asked me, and of course I promised that I would, but surprise surprise, the next thing I was behaving like a very bad girl indeed!





But I’m sure you’d guessed that as well!
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Take a girl.....

If you take a girl with a cute face,




And an even cuter bottom,



Who has a cute boss,





And they work together in close proximation






It’s quite likely that, maybe even unconsciously, she will do something to increase the tension between them,




So that before you know it there is, shall we say, an incident.




However much the two of them will try and pretend that it did not happen , it is more than likely that it will occupy both of their minds when they are on their own, little suspecting that the other having similar thoughts.




Let’s hope for both their sakes that they can find ways to mutually help each other make the most of these incendiary thoughts.






Because after all, then they would be able to really start to enjoy themselves!




And think of the money they would save in hot water and soap!
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Margaret and George (**Names changed to protect the guilty!)

I did something last week that resulted in my wondering if in fact I might be sexually naïve (honestly!) but which on the plus side kept both my imagination and my index finger busy for couple of nights.







I was press ganged into going to see a local amateur musical evening, the sort of thing I would normally shy away from at all costs but I had no choice. Its structure was a series of scenes from a number ot of the well known musicals, and I have to say it was done far better than I had dared expect. But more than that, the choreographer had gone to town bringing out the raunchy elements of each piece in ways I would not have expected to see on the stage of a village hall. Prancing around the stage at different times were suspendered sirens in night club scenes,







Nancy from Oliver with her full breasts practically fighting to break free of her low cut top, and the girls dressed for a harem scene in ways that could only have been designed to send the men home with smiles on their faces and bulges in their trousers.

But the real shock was realising that one of the women up there, smouldering and strutting for our benefit, was a local farmer’s wife, someone I know only slightly and who I have only ever seen in old jumpers and muddy wellies as she works round the farm. Nothing wrong with her looks or her figure, but she is someone I have always considered to be rather dull, and now I was seeing her with entirely new eyes. A voice from an older woman sitting behind me summed it all up very nicely. ”Margaret’s certainly getting in touch with her inner slut!”

The mistake that we all make, me included, is that we forget that all the anonymous people we see in our day to day lives have a lot more to them than meets the eye, and that even the blandest looking female has an inner slut simply dying to bust free when given the opportunity. How many of these women own enviable collections of erotic lingerie that they dress up at appropriate times for the benefit of husbands or lovers,







and how many of them are experts in the art of seduction, artfully bringing their bedroom companions from simmer to boil with a flash of thigh or a lingering glance.








But it was a further remark from the same woman that really got my imagination in a spin. “George hasn’t seen this yet.” She said. “I wonder what he’s going to think!”

Exactly! What was George going to think, and what would happen between him and Margaret when they got home afterwards. Like me, would he be seeing her with new eyes and excited with the fresh erotic possibilities she had now offered him, suggesting an early night and following her sinuous body up the stairs to their waiting bedroom,







or would his reaction it be something else entirely? The whole village had seen his wife dressed and behaving like a slut , so how should he deal with it? Throw her across his knee the second their front door closed behind them,







or maybe take his time to remind her exactly why out of nowhere she was finding herself being given the naughty girl treatment?

“You’re behaving like a slut!” He might tell her with grim determination as she struggled and squealed over his knee, and she would be forced to agree, secretly wallowing in the realisation of what she had woken in him.




Would he force her to wait for her punishment, bent over and exposed and wondering how severely he would treat her, in this position looking far more like a slut than she had on the stage,








all the while knowing that George would be getting increasingly excited at each progressive stage, revelling in the sight of her bare bottom over his knee as she struggles there with her knickers half way down her smooth thighs.








Utilising that well known principal that all men love, “If you act like a slut, I’ll treat you like a slut” maybe he will insist on stripping her naked before taking her over his knee for lengthy and all too satisfying spanking.





But as I said near the beginning, clearly I know nothing about the mysterious Margaret and what turns her on. There’s obviously way more to her than I had ever guessed. Perhaps it would be her encouraging him to exercise some discipline, goading him with reminders of what inflammatory garments she has dressed up in and the effect she saw it was having on the men back stage.






And again, I have no idea about what goes on between them round the farm when no one is around. If she makes a mistake over the milking, can she routinely expect to find herself being exposed and spanked,





and if so, does she then demonstrate her ability to produce full cream whenever it is needed?





And what about their sex life otherwise? Does she wait for him in the hay loft, blatantly flashing her stocking tops at him to get him in the mood,






or maybe she wanders round yard in a see through nightie reminding him that she has far more to offer than just haymaking.







I don’t know and l never will know, but that’s no reason why I shouldn’t give the whole subject of Margaret and George some further thought in bed tonight!




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