The Last Spanking Story

by Susan Thomas

  Susie was very attractive and had a delightful bottom. Miles would have loved a very long session with her but all he was going to get was one smack. She was undoubtedly a troublemaker but the caning had really hurt her and her bottom had those eight welts from her caning. They were grim, still swollen and darkly red with places where the skin had almost broken. The caning had clearly been very painful. Now, already, she had half a dozen large red splotches and by the end of the morning her bottom would be totally red all over and an angry red at that. He played to the crowd and made it clear he was going to give her a hard smack. Stepping right back, Miles gave a little run and a beautiful, powerful arm movement that brought his hand smacking hard against the bottom with a wonderful sound.

  Susie screeched and bowed her whole body inwards and the crowd roared their approval. He got a great many pats on the back and then found himself standing next to Sir George.

  "Well done old boy, she certainly deserves all she is getting and the village liked that smack of yours, a real beauty. I hear good things about you by the way, and you gave Marigold a spanking too I hear. She engineered that spanking so don't be deceived. Got her sights on you for a husband."

  "They both have." Miles was dry and Sir George laughed.

  "Sir George, if I may, I'd like to ask you about a girl named Sophie who has turned up uninvited at my cottage several times. Fostered with that dairy woman, Madge Pendle."

  Sir George looked uncomfortable, "Yes, yes, difficult situation to be sure. Unpleasant woman, though don't say I said so. That wasn't my decision, that was the village court. Back in 1937 they were keen to avoid any sense of feudalism so although I have a lot of power, the court is fiercely independent. A bad decision that one, but she has friends does that Pendle woman so be careful to stay out of it. Tell the girl she mustn't come."

  ---oOo---

  Miles was quite upset by Sir George's advice, and having done his duty at the pillories he made his way home and sat with a pot of tea and some biscuits to think. He was astonished that having made a great deal of money from spanking stories, none of which was any use to him here, he actually didn't like this place which had corporal punishment woven into every part of village life. He knew why of course - they were terrified of disorder, having no-one else to turn to. The constable could not call for reinforcements; the court could not refer someone to a high court; there were no prisons; in fact they were utterly on their own so punishments were very severe for very small breaches of local rules.

  The punishments that upset him most were the children. He had not been able to witness the birching of the youngsters for stealing two apples and he knew they wouldn't be the last, it was only a matter of time until the next. As for Sophie's whippings from Madge Pendle, they were beyond any cruelty he could imagine. Effectively, she was being whipped for refusing to forget her mother.

  No, he couldn't stand this place - he had tried to fit in, even pandering to village opinion by smacking Susie and the two warring women harder than the others. Now, Tom was a case in point - why in heaven's name did the man have to go in the stocks? He had simply got drunk and made a lot of noise. He could have been escorted home and told to sleep it off, but that bloody Smithy woman had made a complaint. When he had first arrived it was she who had been behind that lad getting caned and that girl with an old skirt slightly too short because she had grown. That was another problem in the village - busybodies picking up every tiny fault and then waving the disorder flag in order that the person then got a whacking.

  He had to redouble his efforts to get out but that left Sophie - what was he going to do about Sophie? He could hardly take Sophie with him on his rambles and he suspected that if he did stumble on a way out he wouldn't be able to go back for her. The opportunity to get in or out seemed to be brief and usually linked to foul weather. He doubted the village would allow him to take over Sophie's care, not a man on his own. He could of course ask Millie to marry him but even if he did her reputation in the village wasn't such that they would move Sophie to her rather than Madge.

  He could ask Marigold or Annie to marry him; the village might possibly consider that but that would involve him staying here. He could hardly marry a girl then abandon her, besides that would probably involve her having children and how could he abandon his own kids if an opportunity came to go? Besides all that, there was no guarantee they would want to take Sophie on.

  Then of course there was the problem of what to do about Sophie's midnight visits when 'she who snores like a pig' was asleep. Sir George had warned him off altogether but how could he do that to her?

  The only conclusions he came to were firstly, that he was not going to stop Sophie coming whatever the risk. Sod them all, if the girl needed this to help her through the grieving then he was going to help her do it. The other conclusion was that he was going to work to stop the children ending up on the stage, getting a public birching. He knew there was a big risk to himself but he couldn't just let all this go. It was really ironical that he felt that way given he was the world's greatest writer of spanking stories.

  His resolve was tested that very day. The constable appeared at his cottage and after pouring a bottle of Walker's Stout for them both (a popular beer in the village), the constable told him the purpose of his visit.

  "I have two young lasses caught red handed by Farmer Nutter. Sisters they are, one eleven and the other twelve. They were stealing strawberries and got themselves a whole pudding bowl full. He got them climbing back over the gate with their spoils. They're to go on the list for the court."

  "It'll mean a public birching for them." Miles sounded mild.

  "It will but standards must be maintained."

  Miles said nothing but as soon as the constable had gone he got out the bike he had been given by the court. There were only a handful of cars in the village - Sir George had one, as did the vicar, the doctor and a few farmers, everyone else either used a bike or had a horse and cart or a pony and trap. The bike was a sturdy Hercules which Miles had to admit gave him a comfortable ride and was, after all, good exercise. He rode straight for the farm from which the two girls had stolen strawberries. His excuse was to check on the work of Marigold and Annie.

  He was welcomed with a large pot of the industrial strength tea the villagers loved so much and a huge piece of fruit cake. Miles had to admit that while food choices were more limited than in his world, village food was really tasty.

  "I tell 'ee lad, we ain't that 'appy with them lasses, are we m'duck?"

  "Nope."

  "They's pert lasses the pair on 'em, ain't they m'duck?"

  "Yup."

  Miles was actually quite annoyed with the girls and promised the couple the girls would be soundly spanked and made to come and apologise. He also promised that things would be better. They were satisfied with this assurance and then Miles casually, as if it were of no importance, raised the question of the two strawberry thieves.

  "Ay, 'twere only a pudding bowl full, not much, but I caught 'em and to be honest weren't sure what to do wi' 'em."

  "It'll be the birch on the stage for them." Miles managed to sound unconcerned. "Can't help wondering if that is the best punishment for them."

  "How do y' mean?"

  "Well, just thinking out loud so to speak, wouldn't making them work at picking strawberries for you for a whole day be better? Hard work for them and less labour for you."

  The farmer's wife uttered her first whole sentence. "Don' like them childer birched, pickin's good."

  Her husband agreed. "Aye."

  So, with their blessing, Miles went to speak to the parents and warned them that the two girls had better work hard or it would be the birching. The two girls cried with relief and promised to present themselves early the next day and work very hard indeed.

  Next, Miles sent for Marigold and Annie and waited in his cottage - he had no objection to spanking the pair of them. That did not disturb his conscience one jot. He took his wooden spanking spo
on down from the wall and admired its workmanship, thinking they would sell like hotcakes in his world. He ran his hands over the oak and found it beautifully smoothed. It was pretty well useless as a cooking spoon, the head being much too large, but the handle and the weight was perfect for applying a good stinging smack to a bare bottom and when spanking it wouldn't require many whacks to reduce a girl to tears. He didn't know who had painted the picture of the girl on the bowl part of the spoon but it was delicately done, someone had talent that in his world would be well rewarded. It was certainly true what was written on the handle, it seemed nobody in the village was too old to get spanked.

  The two girls arrived looking both puzzled and nervous; they had sensed they were both in trouble but weren't sure why and they stood in front of him looking very pretty. Both girls were wearing cycling skirts, Marigold's a pale blue and Annie's a delicate brown check. Miles had never come across cycling skirts before as in his world women wore trousers or shorts for cycling. At a casual glance they were skirts, the cut and fold giving that impression, but in fact they were more baggy shorts of skirt length. Both girls wore pretty blouses with a short sleeved woollen top over. Since they tended to cycle everywhere they weren't wearing stockings but socks and sturdy shoes.

  "I am most disappointed with you both," Miles began sternly. "I have made it clear to you that you must be very respectful to all that you visit in your official capacity. Your office does not mean you can be bossy, rude or generally officious. I am not like that and neither must you be. However, Farmer Nutter and his wife have both made a complaint that you are always like that when you visit the farm. 'Pert' was the word used on more than one occasion. Do you have anything to say?"

  Their faces said it all, guilt was written all over and both knew what was going to happen next so they both shook their heads looking at each other with resignation.

  "Right girls, in that case I think those cycling skirts can come off as well as whatever you have on underneath. Oh, and those shoes and socks, we may as well do the job properly."

  Miles knew that in the village generally everything came off below the waist for any corporal punishment. The girls looked at each other, it was one thing to manipulate a spanking in order to show their attractions to Miles but this was going to be a proper punishment and they sighed. Village girls always had to be obedient or else much worse could follow. A girl deemed 'out of control' which was a very loose definition, could easily end up being birched at the village court and standing in a pillory the next day.

  They both knelt down and began unlacing their sturdy shoes and pulling off the hand knitted (though rather pretty) socks. They stood in bare feet and began undoing the buttons on their skirts. Miles watched with interest for not only did he enjoy the sight of a pretty girl removing her clothes but village clothes had no zips or Velcro which always fascinated him. Their cycling skirts slid delightfully down and were stepped out of. With no slips underneath of course that left the girls in what Miles would regard as French knickers, though somewhat larger and less delicate than the ones he was used to. The girls slid those down too and they stood arms by their sides, awaiting his next command.

  "Into the corners with you girls and place your hands on your heads. I want you to think hard about your attitude before I spank you."

  With Annie in one corner and Marigold in another, Miles sat and thought about just how hard to spank them. He decided that he didn't want to give too many with the spanking spoon so a three minute hand spanking followed by a good dozen with the spoon ought to be satisfactory - not overly severe but enough to give the girls a sore bottom. So how was he to time the spanking? Miles really missed his mobile phone but he did have a watch that he had ordered. It was a wind-up affair with a plain clock face and a subsidiary second hand. It seemed very primitive to him.

  "Turn round girls. I'll take Annie first and Marigold, here is my watch. See the small dial, it is a second hand. You are to time three minutes on that and I am going to spank Annie for that time. Come here girl."

  Annie walked over to him and dutifully placed herself over his lap, he pulled her blouse and woollen clear of her bottom and was faced with how beautiful it was. He couldn't resist it, though he knew in this context it was wrong, and he smoothed his hand gently over her soft skin while telling her off equally gently. He felt more than anything an arousal taking place under his hand and she parted her legs somewhat. Miles pulled himself together, this was punishment not pleasure.

  "Are you ready Marigold? Right, start timing."

  With that, Miles brought his hand down with a good smart smack. Annie took it well, she was after all used to being spanked but one smack does not a spanking make. Miles spanked hard and fast, his hand at first landing anywhere at all on her bottom and making her wriggle and gasp as the heat and sting built up. Then he abruptly changed tactics and rained down smack after smack all in one place, causing her to shift position as if to get away from his punishing hand, so he just changed the target. Annie's bottom turned a violent red colour very quickly and now she was not taking her spanking well.

  Annie began wriggling, kicking, gasping and giving out little sobs of distress as Miles demonstrated that he might be a stranger but he knew just how to spank a girl's bottom. Marigold looked increasingly alarmed for she was next and when she called time, Miles was amused to notice she was both relieved for Annie and fearful for herself.

  Miles had to wait for a few minutes before beginning Marigold's spanking because Annie had to sort her tears out enough to watch the tiny second hand. Looking down at the bottom across his lap he had to admit both girls were beautiful. Marigold had a darker skin than Annie, a sort of olive appearance that suggested some Mediterranean blood somewhere but he still couldn't resist smoothing his hand over it. Marigold was much more clearly aroused by this than Annie, had he had her in this position back in his world it would have been a steamy day.

  He spanked Marigold in the same way as Annie and any arousal she had was quickly dissipated by his powerful spanking. He soon had her bottom bright red and the girl squirming over his lap, as his relentless hand smacked down again and again while her bottom bounced and jiggled under the onslaught. Marigold was in much the same state as Annie when he finished and she climbed off his lap with a sigh of relief.

  "You spank even harder than my dad, Miles."

  "I'll take that as a compliment, but we are not done just yet. You both have a little session with the spanking spoon. I hope this won't be necessary again. I know the Nutter's farm is remote but that doesn't warrant inferior treatment. I hope that is now clear."

  "Yes, Miles," chorused the girls and Annie, doubtless hoping to get back in his good books, handed him the spanking spoon before placing herself over his lap.

  Miles decided to try spanking just one cheek with the first six and the other with the next. He smacked the spoon down hard on her right cheek and was rewarded with a huge jerk and a pained yelp. No matter how used a girl might be to getting spanked, hitting her bottom with a good old oak spoon was going to hurt. Miles spanked fast,laying six hard smacks down all on the same place and making Annie practically turn on her side to get her bottom away from what he was doing. Then he switched to the left cheek and gave her another six hard smacks in quick succession, causing her to twist in the other direction.

  Miles examined his work. Annie's bottom was scarlet all over but the centre of each cheek was now blotchy with nasty dark red patches merging with almost white areas, perhaps from the centre of the spoon. Miles had no doubt the bruising would be unpleasantly painful. Annie was sobbing and holding her bottom. She was used to being spanked but the spanking spoon was highly effective at getting the message across.

  Marigold didn't look at all happy as she replaced Annie across his lap. Although she reacted in much the same way to the six fast, hard smacks of the spoon on each cheek, her bottom didn't mark in quite the same way. Miles guessed that olive skin must react differently, but painful it was. Both girls s
nivelled as they stood in the corner for ten minutes with hands on their heads and both promised faithfully that they would be extra polite from now on.

  Miles was both satisfied and dissatisfied with his day. He had really resolved nothing except that he really didn't want to stay here and he did want to help Sophie. On the other hand, tomorrow the two girls would pick strawberries all day for the farmer and if they behaved themselves the complaint would be withdrawn. That was good, as was spanking his two assistants. They would go to the farm tomorrow with him and apologise while he checked on the two little girls. He poured himself a whisky and wondered if Sophie would come tonight. Sure enough, at around eleven thirty the door was opened and in came Sophie.

  Shyly, she handed him a small bunch of wild flowers and a watercolour picture she had made for him. He was touched, hesitating for a moment because he wasn't sure if he should, but he gave her a hug and kissed her forehead.

  "I have a secret. Can I show you?"

  "Yes, OK, Sophie, if you want to."

  She led him upstairs and there in her little bedroom she went to a corner and with her fingernails lifted a board. In the space underneath was an old biscuit tin, which she pulled out.

  "Look," she said, "she never got these. I managed to hide them and a couple I pulled off her bonfire when she had her back turned."

  She spread her treasures out on the floor: some black and white photos of her mother, some photos of them together, a watercolour painting her mum had done, a Christmas card her mother had made for her, some items of jewellery and a silk scarf.