Wednesday, 28 April 2010

Friday, 16 April 2010

Fourteen strokes may seem a strange number but remember she was "on the bill", a schoolroom phrase meaning that her faults, and those of other girls in the household, would be listed as on an old time shopkeeper's bill, together with their individual cost in terms of corporal punishment.

At regular intervals, usually weekly on a Friday or Sunday evening, the girls would present themselves for correction as she describes. A total of only fourteen means that she had not been into any serious trouble that week. Had she, for example, been discovered masturbating she would be "up" for a lot more.

But now her thrashing begins:
My tutor braced his feet well apart behind my naked white moons and lifted the rod to lash it down low in a long practised sweeping motion that brought all its half dozen or so switches to bear at once, spaced out slightly over my well spread bottom cheeks, each twig burrowing deep into my soft flesh, the sharp nodes and hardened buds biting even sharper.I bucked to the stinging blow, my breath going out in a strangled gasp. I always forgot how very much the birch stung, blotting from my mind the excruciating minutes I had last spent taking two dozen tight ones for unseemly language. That had been just a week ago and my faded memory was rudely restored by the band of fire that blazed across my naked rotundities under my tutor's discipline.
Scarcely had I absorbed the scalding thrash when the next cruel cut swished in. I moaned to myself. Here am I already panting after only two! My thoughts were interrupted by another vicious cut that had me grunting and involuntarily trying in vain to squeeze my bottom cheeks together as if to wring out the pain.
My tutor thrashed me steadily, laying on the strokes with drive and precision honed by experience. Lovely, he must have been thinking, looking at the white mounds, now streaked with a multitude of vivid scarlet lines. He thrashed the rod home again across my now writhing buttocks, sweeping up from underneath to catch me on my most sensitive parts, the twigs splaying out to catch the tops of my thighs, the tips going up and in between to clip the pouting rosebud, drawing a sudden yelp from me.

Friday, 2 April 2010

Beauty Birched

"The birch, that clever instrument of corporal punishment, deserves, and shall have, a chapter of my modest memoirs to itself. For, if comparisons in the field of correction may be considered odious, of all the items contrived to vex and cure me in those days I do declare it excited the most signal dread in my soul and skin. And my governess was expert in its use.
The birch is a wood that absorbs and holds water. Accordingly, the rods that I ‘put up’ each afternoon for my evening punishment ritual were left to steep in long shallow glass trays, on a sideboard in the library. The solution was a concoction of my governess, very vinegary, and it toughened the twigs, in particular their buds, considerably. These thin and whippy limbs imparted an inconceivable sting, each one, and a single birch rod was generally of five. More was never allowed since they then tended to swing together and dull the individual agony.
The stone-hard buds,with which each had to be furnished at the tip, struck into the fat of my lower bottom like fury, yet a good birch did not bruise, though it cut and flecked and grazed the skin intolerably. Perhaps it was a surface smart, unlike the cane, and I suspect it died down more rapidly than the latter. Even so, a protracted count would soon be hellish, and any more than a dozen calculated to have the most hardened sinner howling. For this was an implement with which you could ‘go’ many, and I often did."

The purpose of this blog is to share erotic images and stories of beautiful girls receiving severe corporal punishment, or sometimes just presenting themselves in punishment position. The pictures are big so you should click on them to see all the detail. There are a lot in the archives here too so do not just stay on page one! Enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment or two.

The pics above might have fitted better in Punishment Poses, but I do like girls looking over their shoulder as they show off their assets waiting for punishment and will leave them here for your enjoyment. The quote is from a story by P N Dedeaux, slightly adapted, and a lot more can be found in the archives here.

Thursday, 1 April 2010