Month: October 2014

I Put A Spell On You

A http://www... Sweet poem! Reblogged for some Halloween fun!

The Migraine Chronicles


Ghosts, goblins and witch’s brew

My love, My dear, I put a spell on you

a spell of love and sexy things

to fall upon you this Halloween

I put a spell on you, to make you mine

to make you love me ’til the end of time

hocus pocus and bippity boo

My Love, My Dear, I put a spell on you

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Home Working Fun Today

Not my bottom – this is from

There is something to be said for this new era of tele-commuting / working from home or whatever you call it. I have the opportunity to work from my home office usually a couple of times a week. When happy coincidence allows, Miranda will also be at home on some of these days, and there will be an available window of time in the day when there are no urgent demand on time, and no kids to interrupt the atmosphere. On these days there is the opportuntity to adjourn upstairs and partake of some erotic bottom warming. Frequent readers will know that we will frequently switch roles, depending on preference on the day and who is deemed sufficiently deserving of the ‘top’ and/or who has been sufficiently naughty to be rewarded with the ‘bottom’.

On a recent occasion I had the delightful opportunity to help shuck Miranda out of some very tight-fitting jeans, which I lodged at knee level along with a totally unnecessary pair of panties. I sat on the edge of the bed and proceeded to redden her delightful rear. Miranda is extremely tactile and prefers the hand. Of course, I always oblige. However on this occasion I felt the urge to deliver more, so I took up her hairbrush which always rests on the bedside table for just such a purpose. Holding her firmly, I gave her a good dozen whacks with the brush to her bouncing buttocks. Oh did she squeal! Now, clearly she enjoyed it – after all, when I let her up she kicked her legs out of her jeans, pushed me back on the bed and whipped down my pants, then rode me like a gunslinger heading out of Dodge. However, Miranda is not one to allow the upper hand to be had for long, and she is one to bide her time for that favourite of all cold-plate meals, Revenge.

Today I was again in my home office, and able to dive out of a tedious web conference early. Hearing me emerge from the basement, Miranda took my hand and led me straight to the bedroom. With deft hands and lips, she quickly had me standing tall and at her beck and call, which today meant on my knees on the bed, bottom high and cheeks spread wide. To keep me steady she positioned herself astride my back, almost sitting on my shoulders to prevent me rising (not that I tried). In this position she had a good vertical stroke attack on my bared buttocks, and she clearly wanted to repay me for the blistering she’d received last time out. She took up our latex ruler paddle and proceeded to blister my butt with a good hard set of strokes that reached right down onto the tops of my thighs. She followed this up with some fingering and fondling to rekindle the fires, then went at it again with her hairbrush. She targeted the ‘sit-spot’ more than anywhere else, and she had me jumping and bucking, no doubt, but I took it in good spirit. The crop was next and that almost finished me, especially the strokes that fell straight down my bum cleft and whacked across the old chocolate starfish! Boy, those ones sting! Nothing some sweet and tender kisses can’t soothe though, which is how we led into our finale.

So now, I’m back at my desk with a tingly butt and a well-fucked feeling, biding away the final hour of the day telling you good folks about my afternoon.

Life is good!

Hubble, Bubble

Hubble, double, toil and trouble

Witches wizened pussies bubble

Watching with malevolent stare

As knave and maiden strip and bare


Each then bound to a whipping bench

Both strapped tight against buttocks clench

Hellstrap swung with ferocious might

Knave’s scream of anguish cuts the night


A vicious strike, a plaintive cry

As whip tip lands on unseeing eye

Amplified yet tenfold more

As lash tip whips his manhood raw


Bruised and broken, knave is finished

With cross-hatched bum and cock diminished

Next maiden cries as strap lays its fire

Perversely, she thrusts her buttocks higher


Straining up for another stroke

As cries of anguished pleasure choke

Twelve more lashes, hard and tight

Delivered with all the witches might


Her buttocks hot and red and sore

Poor maiden sobs yet begs for more

Witch steps up to maiden, bound

Reaches out, without a sound


Witch explores the reddened rump

Traces nails ‘cross buttocks plump

Drops wrinkled hand to pubic mound

Pinches lips and stirs around


Stirring the molten pot within

Reveals the moistened juice of sin

Witch strokes the juicy, open cunt

Extracts a lustful, guttural grunt


Blacken’d nail flicks hooded clit

Scratches down the swollen slit

Fires stoked high and passions rise

And climb, and peak, and then subside

I hope y’all enjoyed this pre-Hallowe’en fun. The picture I found to be quite intriguing – sourced from Google of course, via Not quite sure why one girl is up the chimney, and whether the other is spanking her, learning to fly the broomstick or is using the rough twigs to rub herself off !

A Police Report


The police officer checked his note book to confirm the address, then stepped up to the door and knocked firmly. A few moments later the door was opened by a young woman dressed casually in a summer skirt and blouse. The officer appraised the woman with professional detachment: 5’ 4”, maybe 120lbs at a push, dark skin – not Caucasian, dark hair, brown eyes – possibly Eurasian decent? He guessed her age to be early 20’s, and she was certainly easy on the eye. This was one job he would be taking alone. No need to call for back-up with this one! He stood a step below the woman to reduce the height differential, then spoke.

“Miss Williams? You called in a report of an assault. I’m Officer Thomas and I’m here to take down your report.”

The woman pulled the door open fully and stepped aside. “You’d better come in then,” she said. The officer noticed an accent, but could not place it immediately. The woman closed the door and stepped past the officer, moving into the front room. She sat on a sofa and indicated he should sit in the armchair across from her. The woman crossed her legs, giving the officer the briefest glimpse of gusset before the sight was lost.

The officer spoke again. “Miss Williams, you reported an assault?”

“Please, I request you call me Sasha. I do not enjoy formality. And you are …?” Her voice was silky, husky and dark. She spoke well , but English was not natural to her. Something about her accent was deeply sensual to him, and he felt her words wrap themselves around his body and squeeze urgent life into his manhood. He shifted in his chair to relieve the sudden pressure in his groin.

“Tom, Thomas,” he stuttered his words. “That’s to say, Thomas, Officer John Thomas.”

Sasha covered her mouth with her hands as she giggled. “Oh my dear, please forgive, John. I should not be laughing.”

John was angry at himself and this young woman for embarrassing him. He had learnt the hard way, through many playground fights to avoid using his first name. Normally he used his middle name of David, but she had him flustered. He tried to recover the situation. “I would prefer Officer Thomas or Officer, if you don’t mind Miss Williams.”

“Oops. Once more the naughty girl. My words again deceive me. This is what got me into this position in the first place.”

“What do you mean. I thought the report said you were assaulted?”

“Oh no – not at all. I call the station because my employer, Mr Gregory, had beaten me and I don’t believe he did the right thing. I need him to see his errors.”

“Well most definitely, if this is true he did not do the right thing. Tell me, why did he beat you?”

“Well because I forgot his suit at the drycleaner, and I burnt his breakfast, and I scratched his car. Nothing really, he just get mad at me. I don’t know why he keep me !”

John looked up from his note pad as she stopped speaking. He looked into her deep brown eyes and was immediately captivated. It was plainly evident why this man would keep such an incompetent housemaid around. Embarrassed, John looked back to his notes. He cleared his throat. “Tell me – Sasha, how exactly did Mr Gregory beat you?”

Sasha thought for a moment, looking for the right words. “I don’t know how to say everything. Perhaps if I show you?” Sasha stood.

“If I may?” John nodded his head, unsure what he was agreeing to. Sasha stepped over to him, then lay down across his lap. She turned her head to look up at him. “He ask me to lie like this.”

John croaked out a response. “And what did he do next?”

“He lift up my skirt, like this,” Sasha reached back and flipped her short skirt over her back. John delighted in the sight of her olive buttocks encased in beige silk panties. He felt his cock grow hard and poke into Sasha’s belly.

“Yes, like that. His dick stuck me like that! Next he put his hand on my back to hold me down on his dick.”

John placed his left hand in the small of her back. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s right. Next he smack my bottom with his hand.”

John tentatively patted the upraised cheeks before him. “Like this?”

“NO, not like that. Harder.”

He pulled back his hand and spanked with medium force. The sound reverberated round the still room. “Like that?”

“Yes, but harder still, and more.”

John decided to go for it. “Like this?” he asked, as he rained down a dozen spanks to her firm cheeks.

“Mmm … mmm,” Sasha grunted. “Yes, like that. And then he pull down my panties and smack some more.”

Not believing his luck, John tugged the silky panties down to her knees and stroked the warm flesh, trailing his fingers over the golden cheeks and along the dividing cleft.

Sasha wriggled on his lap, squishing his cock. “And he smack me some more …”

Taking the hint, John slapped his palm down across the centre of her cheeks, then methodically covered her buttocks from the thighs upwards until his hand stung and her cheeks glowed. Sasha gasped and bucked as he spanked, and more than once he caught sight of her sex. Black tufts of hair framed a pink, moist centre indicating her obvious state of arousal. Finally, he stopped his spanking.

Sasha lay for a moment, recovering. “Yes, like that.” She paused for a moment before speaking again. “And then he held open my bottom to spank the bum!” As she said this, she pushed her bottom high and apart. John used one hand to open the secret valley between her cheeks, and with the other he sharply slapped her anus with stiffened fingers. Sasha gave a muffled cry as each slap fell.

John stopped his anal spanking and spoke quietly. “And what did Mr Gregory do next?” he held his breath in anticipation.

“He put his finger up my pussycat and poke me with it!”

John grinned with delight and moved his hand down to cup her mound. He felt the damp heat in his palm as he fondled her sex. He stroked along her slit before plunging his middle finger deep into her sex, probing and swirling, then withdrawing to tease her clitoris and then plunging again. Sasha groaned beneath him as he worked his magic.

“Was it like this?” he asked, his voice thick in his throat.

“Yes, YES. And, and then he used two fingers.” The words fell from her as she rode his probing digits.

“And did he do this?” John took his wet finger and circled her anus, lubricating the tight ring before gently forcing his finger into her. He gently fucked her anally with his finger, then withdrew and circled her clit once more.

“Nnnmmm, yes, like that, just like that.”

John continued to stroke her sex, fingering her pussy and anus as he spoke. “Well on the evidence before me it would seem Mr Gregory did everything right. I’m not sure of the grounds for your complaint.”

With difficulty, Sasha spoke again. “If you will allow me, I can show you.” She slid off his lap and onto her knees with her back to him. She leant forwards onto her elbows, and flipped her skirt back up out of the way. John had a delightful view of Sasha’s firm, olive buttocks still showing the pink blush from her spanking. Nestled beneath, he could see her hot, wet sex open and inviting.

“Mr Gregory did not do the rest. He leaves me wanting.” Sasha bucked her hips backwards as she spoke, leaving John in no doubt as to his next action. He stood, unzipped and dropped his pants and underwear to the floor, then knelt behind Sasha, took her by the hips and guided his rigid shaft into her willing pussy. “You mean, he didn’t do this?” he said, sliding his cock in and out of her hole.

Sasha thrust backwards, eager for more of his cock. “No, no, he did not. He smack me and leave me, then he go to the bathroom and he tug his little dickie. He leave me wanting. He is very wrong, you see?”

“Oh yes,” sighed John. “Very, very wrong. I think I may need to visit you often to put right the wrongs he is doing you.” He punctuated his words with hard thrusts, riding her all the way to their mutual orgasm.

Chef School : Annie’s Seasoning

Chef Story continues from here



Chef continued to blaze his assault down on Melissa’s unprotected buttocks until her bum felt as if it would spontaneously combust. He made sure to cover every inch of flesh. He held open her bum cheeks to spank her cleft and the sensitive ring within, he spanked her at the join of thighs and buttocks. He spanked her with an open palm across her pussy lips until she shrieked. Eventually, he released his grip on her waist and allowed her to sag down onto the counter, sobbing softly as she gently felt her burning cheeks.

“Now that’s a rare steak!” said Chef, red faced and panting after the exertion. “Now, some seasoning. Melissa, I think you can rest your steaks a minute. Annie looks like she’s feeling neglected.” Chef rested a hand on Annie’s bum, feeling the remaining warmth from her earlier spanking. “I think this meat needs a little zing before we apply some grill marks. Toby – fetch me a ginger root.”

Whilst he was waiting for the vegetable, Chef stood between the two bent forms and stroked the bared bottoms. Melissa’s was definitely hotter to the touch and she flinched as Chef’s fingers trailed over her scorched skin. Chef trailed down the bum cleft of each girl, left hand on Annie, right on Melissa. With his middle fingers Chef traced the valley to the two tight bum holes. He teased the sensitive openings for a moment, then dipped his fingers lower to wet them in the girls’ pussies, then traced back up to the bum holes. Now moistened, his fingers had no trouble gaining entrance to the secret holes and the girls moaned in unison.

Just then, Toby returned with the bag of ginger roots and offered them to Chef.

“Stupid boy. Can’t you see I’m busy,” laughed Chef. “Find a piece as thick as your thumb and peel it carefully. I’ll continue to prepare the meat, so no need to hurry.”

As Toby went to work Chef continued to drill his middle fingers into the two tight anal rings before him. Both girls moaned and wriggled in vain attempts to avoid the building arousal caused by their predicament. Finally, Toby returned with the prepared root and Chef reluctantly extracted his fingers and took the root.

Chef stepped back and perused the naked bottoms presented one final time, then dismissed Melissa. “You can get up now, but watch and learn. Next time you disappoint me, you will find yourself getting what Annie is about to get.” Before she could escape she got another stinging pair of slaps to drive home the message, leaving her with a clear pair of handprints and a very sore bottom. Melissa quickly gathered her things and dashed away to the washrooms.

Chef then turned to Annie with the ginger root. With one hand he opened up her buttock cleft to stretch her whorl, with the other he pressed the root against the tight ring of muscle. As she felt the blunt nub press against her anus, she tensed, butt cheeks clenching. “This will be easier if you relax, girl,” he said, as he pressed the stubby root more firmly against her hole. Annie pushed her bum out and forced herself to relax as the nub entered her. Suddenly the ginger was nestled in her bum. He bum felt full, and she squeezed her cheeks around the invader. This pressed the raw ginger into tighter contact with the sensitive tissue of her anus and Annie felt a heat rapidly building inside her. She gasped and squeezed more to ease the feeling – but instead amplified the sensations.

“Now my girl, you’re much better to relax and enjoy. Too much struggling makes for a very hot bottom, so I’m told,” advised Chef. He turned to the group. “So now our meat is seasoned – time for the grill marks. Toby – nip outside and bring me a cane from the tomatoes. Quickly now, or you can taste the ginger too!” Toby dashed outside and was back in moments with a three foot bamboo cane.

“Excellent, excellent. Now, the sign of an expertly cooked steak is well defined sear marks. Let me show you.”

Chef stepped back, lined up the cane and pulled back his arm. The cane whistled down and bit sharply into Annie’s buttocks. As she felt the line of fire Annie shrieked and clenched her bum tightly. In doing so she made the inner effects of the ginger much worse, and forced herself to relax. Chef laughed out loud. “Don’t you love the dilemma, my girl? Do you relax for the cane and get an easy ride on the ginger, or do you tense for the cane and get the worst inside? Which will it be this time?” Chef slashed down again, delivering another stripe an inch higher than the previous one. Annie shrieked, squeezed, shrieked, relaxed, and sobbed. Chef delivered another four strokes, perfectly positioned so that Annie was left with six parallel lines, the first of which were already darkening to a deep purple. Her buttocks twitched with the pain of the cane strokes and the internal heat of the ginger.

“Now, for my ‘piece de résistance’, the mark of the best Chef.” Chef bent to one knee so that he could position the cane diagonally across Annie’s cheeks and delivered a powerful blow, and then did the same on the other side. He stepped back to admire the sight of Annie’s perfect bottom now seared with six horizontal stripes and a red cross like a brand in the centre.

Chef plucked the ginger root from Annie’s bottom as he released his erection. As the root popped free he quickly drove his member into the void. The ginger oils remaining inside her lubricated and agitated his cock as he plundered her, driving the oils still deeper into her tender walls until with a final thrust he shot his seed into her bowels.

Canings – it’s for your own good!

And there I was, thinking my love of spanking was a little on the kinky side, when all along, it’s medicinal. How many parents back in the day would tell their kids this beating was for their own good? Well if a Russian doctor is to be believed, maybe they were right!

A story is widely circulating on the Interwebs about a Russian doctor using canings as a cure for addictions. Now, anyone who’se browsed online will know that the Russians are no strangers to a little spanky hanky panky, but putting a medical spin on things is definitely new to me.

Beating addiction, Siberia

This extract is from that well read journal, Siberian Times:

In simple terms, addicts suffer from a lack of endorphins often known as ‘happiness hormones’, she says, adding that the acute pain of corporal punishment stimulates the brain to release endorphins into the body ‘making patients feel happier in their own skins’.

‘The caning counteracts a lack of enthusiasm for life which is often behind addictions, suicidal tendencies and psychosomatic disorders’, claims Dr Pilipenko. Both personally administer the ‘medical spankings’.

The treatment was pioneered in Siberia by Dr Sergei Speransky, director of Biological Studies at Novosibirsk Institute of Medicine, who himself admitted to undergoing flogging treatment as an antidote to his bouts of depression.

I can relate. A good spanking certainly makes me feel ‘alive’, and the endorphins most definitely flow in the heat of the moment.

It is so good of the dear Doctor to adminster the spankings personally. It must be horrid to have to cane poor, beautiful 22 year old Natasha’s naked buttocks twice weekly for 3 months, then monthly for a year thereafter. 30 strokes for an addiction to the booze, 60 for drugs. It sounds like he gives it to her good, too:

‘Despite this, in a strange way I suppose I do feel I’m getting punishment which at the same time brings me back to life. After each session I have red lash marks on my backside but it doesn’t bleed. It’s not easy to sit down for a few hours afterwards.’

You know, I do beleive I’ve found my calling. Now, where’s my passport – and do I need a visa for Siberia?