Teacher’s Critique

“Ah Rudi, thank you for staying behind. I think we need to have a chat about your contributions to the Creative Writing workshop.”

“What do you mean, Alicia?” I had hoped for a reaction to “The Yellow Dress”. She had provided my inspiration when she wore a short yellow summer dress to our summer school class a few weeks ago. It seemed this might be the moment.

“Well I hope you realise I’m no prude, but I don’t feel we can do a proper group critique when you write about caning a naked bottom and the …” she struggled for the right words, “The aftermath. What will the ladies think!?”

“Well they might quite like it.” I was a little flippant. “Better than their trite love stories at least. They probably all have 50 Shades of Grey in their library.”

“Not the point and you know it!” she snapped. “You know there is more art in showing rather than telling. What’s left to the imagination is at the heart of erotica. Graphic displays belong with pornography, and that debases us all.”

Clearly I’d touched a nerve. “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me what you mean.”

“Okay, let’s take this section;” Alice read the passage, her crisp English accent adding a certain frisson to the words.

He slipped his fingers into her waistband, and slid the knickers off her cheeks and down to her feet. He could sense the bounce of her cheeks as he palmed them, and the sight of her tight hole revealed deep in the cleft. He imagined it was he who then applied twelve hard, slow stripes to her cheeks. Afterwards, with her still bent, he would step behind her to paint the red stripes with the juice seeping from his hard cock. With his orgasm mounting he imagined sliding his cock deep into her tight, young cunt, gasping as his release came.

Hearing my words read aloud by this beautiful woman sent shivers through my body, exiting through my penis and jolting him into a full, steaming erection. As she finished reading the atmosphere almost crackled. She looked up from the page.

Her voice caught a little as she critiqued my work. “Obviously the imagery is very strong, Rudi. But I wonder if it might be stronger still if you were to paint a picture and show the reader the situation, rather than telling them your fantasy. Allow the reader to see themselves in this young woman’s place perhaps?”

I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I croaked out a reply. ”Well, you see this is all imaginary,” I began. “I’ve never actually been in this situation. I don’t think I quite know what you mean.”

“So you’re breaking a second cardinal rule, which we will address shortly. But in the meantime, perhaps I can help. Have you ever written from life?”

“You mean, like sitting at the beach and using words to paint the scene? Yes, I’ve tried that.”

“Okay, so let’s try that route. I want you to paint the picture you see.” And with that, Alicia bent from the waist in front of me. She slid her hands over her buttocks and down her thighs to catch the hem, and then slowly lifted the fabric up her legs and over her cheeks. I know I gasped out loud as she revealed her bottom. Her cheeks were full, lightly tanned and essentially naked. A black strip of lace plunged from the waistband down into her cleft, where is disappeared between the full twin moons. She spread her feet slightly and the cup of fabric encasing her mound came into view.

“Now,” she said, “I want you to use all your senses to embrace what you see. Your writing will be so much stronger as a result. Feel my bottom, use your eyes, be aware of scent.”

I stepped closer and gingerly cupped her cheeks, sliding my hands up and around her smooth flesh. My fingertip lingered on the slight scratch of the lace, hooking beneath the dividing strip to ease it up and out of her cleft. I could smell a perfume mingling with the scent of her arousal as I slid my finger down the lacy divide to the dampness where her mound was cupped.

I was lost in the sensations of this beautiful bottom. Alicia broke the spell. “I think you need to know what it feels like to cane a woman, if you are to write good erotica,” she said. “Under my desk there’s a package.”

I retrieved the slender bundle and withdrew a length of rattan, maybe two feet long with a bound handle and 3/8 inch in diameter. The wood was burnished brown and seemed old.

“Take your aim carefully. You want to strike my cheeks, and not whip around the side. Stand to my left and extend your arm so that the tip rests midway across my right cheek.” I did as instructed, still in awe that I would actually cane this delightful bottom. Alicia reached back to check my placement of the cane.

“Good, now pull back and let me have it!” I moved my arm back to a 45 degree angle and snapped it back down. The effect was very underwhelming, and lacked the crack I had imagined. Alicia was ready with a critique. “You’re too stiff. You need to use your wrist for a flick. Try again.”

I positioned myself again, pulled back and snapped the cane into her cheeks. It felt better but didn’t have the satisfying thwack I had imagined. And Alicia had barely moved at all under the impact.

“I think you need to give it more oomph. Here, let me show you.” And with that she stood and my vision was gone. “Get yourself in position and I will show you what a proper stroke feels like.”

I hesitated, naturally. “Oh come along, Rudi. We’re both adults here. Get your pants down and bend over. You can’t write what you don’t know.” As I continued to prevaricate she reached forward, flicked the button open on my shorts and whipped them down, dragging my underpants down too. My erect cock bobbed a little as he was suddenly exposed. “Oooh, now that’s a nice surprise for a lady,” she smiled, as she squeezed my shaft gently. Then, using my cock as a handle she guided me into position. And so now I was bent over, hands on knees and feet spread, waiting to feel my first ever cane stroke.

Alicia talked me through her preparations in real time. “Arm out straight, cane tip in the middle of the far buttock cheek. Tap a couple of times for luck,” – her ‘taps’ were rather more solid than I had envisioned! – “And then back and down with a flick of the wrist.” As she spoke I heard the brief whistle as the cane descended and then the momentary sensation of the impact as my nerve endings shot messages of surprise and pain to my brain. The reply was swift and unequivocal.

I shot upright. “Jeezus that hurt! Did you have to do it so hard?” I was rubbing my rump in indignation, forgetting for a moment that I had already delivered two strokes to Alicia’s tender cheeks.

“Don’t be such a baby. That was a gentle stroke. Your heroine gets 12 from you! Get back over. You need to know what you’re writing about.” She was teasing my deflated cock with the cane tip as she spoke, and quickly got the reaction she had intended. “When we’re done, you can try again on my behind, se if you’ve improved enough to finish the story. Driven once again by my groin and the unstated promise of more action to come, I assumed the position once more.

“Now, to give this caning some purpose, let’s apply some rules. You must count and say ‘thank you Miss’, and if you move, you get extra. So, you gave your young lady 12, so you get the same. Count!” The cane whipped down, far harder than last time. “ONE!” I yelped. “Thank you Miss.”

I don’t know how, but I stayed down for all twelve strokes. I was sweating, panting and quivering as she dropped the cane and gently ran her fingers over the criss-cross of welts that decorated my cheeks. I knew now that a caning was not some lighthearted erotica, but a serious, painful experience. And yet, now the immediacy of the pain was over the heat and tingling suffused into a depth of sensation I had never felt before. I felt alive, so alive and invigorated, cleansed almost. I felt Alicia’s hand as she cupped my balls from behind, gently teasing life back into my cock.

“Now, that’s a caning,” she whispered as she stroked my shaft. “And if I recall your narration, you took this and fucked your heroine. We can swap over for that part, or if you prefer, I have a dildo in my bag …”

The Yellow Dress

Rob trudged around the mall lugging a small wardrobe full of bags as his daughter and wife strode on ahead, chattering happily as they spent his hard-earned money. He stopped to adjust his grip on the bags, trying to recover circulation to his fingers. “First trip home in three months,” he muttered, “and I have to spend my day trailing round the mall like a friggin’ pack horse. Fuck my life.” He glanced up to see his wife and daughter sashaying ahead. ‘Fuck my wife more like,’ he breathed, watching the sway of her hips, tightly encased in denim. It had far too long since he’d seen her on her knees waiting for him to take her from behind, or take her any ways for that matter.

He watched the pair sauntering along, arm in arm. It was getting harder to tell them apart from the back these days. At 17 he had to admit, young Meghan was developing some very attractive curves, and Susie was looking so hot in those tight blue jeans. He recalled how she’d been horrified at turning 40 last year. She’s hit the gym hard, spending almost every morning burning off the pounds and toning up while he worked his butt off on the rigs. If he could just get a taste of that ass he would be a happy man, but since he’d arrived home two days ago she had been early to bed complaining of a headache and her time of the month. He sneered to himself. “No sign of a headache now, that’s for sure. Retail therapy must sure be a thing then.”

Just then Susie turned back. “We’re popping into la vie complète. Meghan says they have some lovely summer dresses. Why don’t you pop over to the Apple Store or something? We might be a while. After that you can get me a latte. I’m pooped!”

“You’re pooped!” he snapped. “I’ve been away working for three months and now I get to carry my wages in your shopping bags. I must be carting a month’s wages right here.”

“Now don’t make a scene! If they’re too heavy for you, take them back to the car, poor little lamb,” Susie crooned back. “Stop putting a downer on our day by being such a party pooper. You know how I love getting some quality time with my little girl. Don’t spoil it!” With that she turned, tucked her arm into Meghan’s and strode into the expensive looking store.

Rob stalked back to the parking lot and threw the bags into the trunk. He stayed outside for a while, cooling off, then wandered back inside the mall. He stood outside la vie complète for a few minutes, and then peered inside trying to spy the girls, but he couldn’t see to the back. Eventually he stepped inside, feeling very conspicuous amongst the sheer gowns and underwear. He found some easy chairs next to the changing rooms and settled down to wait.

Rob whiled away some time admiring the lithe young bodies of the shoppers as they came and went from the changing rooms. One of the girls posed in front of a full-length mirror at the entrance, checking out the fit of her dress. When she stepped away, Rob noticed that she’d moved the mirror. He realised he now had a partial view down the length of the changing cubicles, thanks to a convenient reflection from another mirror at the corner. Mostly the curtains were all firmly drawn, so he amused himself watching pants falling beneath the doors, imagining the lacy lingerie that must be revealed inside each small space.

As he watched, he noticed one curtain that was partly open, right at the end. He caught brief glimpses inside as the occupant moved around. Suddenly, he saw her bottom revealed as she whipped her jeans down and off. As she turned he got the briefest glimpse of naked cheeks. ‘She’s wearing a thong,’ he thought. He also caught a glimpse of something else, too. What were those marks on her bum? They looked like lines. And then the view was gone as she stepped aside. When she was revealed again, she was wearing a long yellow dress with a sunflower pattern. He admired the swish against her tanned legs as she turned, then sat up straight again as she dropped the dress to her feet and stepped out. This time he got a clear three-quarter view of her bottom as she bent to retrieve the dress. And as she did so, he could clearly see several evenly spaced dark lines cutting across the pale flesh.

He gasped with the shock, hiding the sound with a fake cough. ‘Oh my jeezus,” he thought, “she’s been caned!’ His member stiffened up at the delicious sight and all it suggested, and then she was gone. He drifted into daydreams, imagining the scene that must have unfolded for the girl to get those stripes, stirring up memories from long ago when Susie used to lay across his lap for a spanking.

“Dad!” Meghan prodded him back to reality. “What are you doing? Come on, we’re leaving.” Rob stumbled to his feet, trying to adjust his underwear as he did so, and stumbled out of the store behind his wife and daughter.


The brief glimpse of that caned bottom played over and over in Rob’s mind over the next few days. He was constantly aware of the erection in his pants every time his mind drifted back to that momentary glimpse. He found himself sneaking to the bathroom, or his shed when his imagination stirred.

In his fantasy, the unknown girl was wearing the yellow dress. She would turn her back and bend, submitting herself to his will. He imagined lifting the dress slowly, revealing first her toned, smooth legs and then her taut buttocks clothed in the briefest lace. He loosened his pants and pulled out his cock as he settled into the fantasy.

He slipped his fingers into her waistband, and slid the knickers off her cheeks and down to her feet. He could sense the bounce of her cheeks as he palmed them, and the sight of her tight hole revealed deep in the cleft. He imagined it was he who then applied twelve hard, slow stripes to her cheeks. Afterwards, with her still bent, he would step behind her to paint the red stripes with the juice seeping from his hard cock. With his orgasm mounting he imagined sliding his cock deep into her tight, young cunt, gasping as his release came. The fantasy helped reduce his frustration at Susie’s coincidental ‘time of the month’. Every night for a week she’d gone to bed in PJs, and he’d had not even a glimpse of her toned body since he’d arrived home.


A few days after the shopping trip, Rob was sitting in the living room watching TV when he heard Meghan coming downstairs. She called out to him from the stairs. “Bye Dad, I’m off out. Dave’s picking me up. See you later.” As he turned to say goodbye he caught the briefest glimpse of her as she stepped out of the door, and the long yellow gown decorated with sunflowers floating around her legs.

Bianca Neve Part 14

We left Bianca cooling her buns after tasting Spanky’s strap. What fates might befall her now? Read on – or go back here to start at Part 1.

She was alone in the woods, locked inside her own body and strapped down to this infernal contraption. She’d been buggered, tongued and whipped. Her glowing red buttocks were punctuated with the fat sausage sticking out of her cunny, looking no doubt like a particularly rosy cheeked Pinocchio caught in lies after lies.

And now she felt a growing itch, then the beginnings of a burning in her cunny. Her soft walls gripping the meaty length grew more tender, more irritated. She recalled that the sausage was spiced, and the spicy surface was mingling with her juices to inflame and sensitise her flesh. She felt the wet dripping down her thighs as her cunny wept.

She had always feared the gloaming, when the creatures and underlings emerged. Now, trapped and vulnerable, who knew what horrors might befall her with the coming of the night. What had gone before would be naught to what nightmares the Warlocks of the Taint might envision with such an alluring target. How could the dwarves be so stupid as to leave her out here, vulnerable and alone!

Her brain whirred and tumbled through the tales of evil and dread that were told round the fires at the Palace of the evils of the Night Woods. She had heard the whispered tales under cover of the darkness in the palace, when the maidens terrorised each other before slipping into soft, arm arms for comfort. Aside from the Warlocks, all the maidens whispered of the Spirit of the Fallen. The Spirits were drawn to the scent of a Virgin wherever she may be. Tales were told of young Virgins stolen from their beds – they would be whisked away to endure an eternity of pleasuring the long dead Knights of the Bloodied Cloth in the Kingdom of the Dead. And if not the Spirits or the Warlocks, then there was the worst of them all, the Throbber. He was said to have a penis the breadth and length of a man’s arm. It was said he would rip a maiden’s cunny wide open when taking his pleasure – even splitting her in two if she were particularly tiny down there. And no mortal man would lie with a maiden who had taken the Throbber, for his Cockling would never touch the sides.

What fate might befall poor Bianca, strapped, exposed and helpless in the night woods? The next episode will be here soon …

Bianca Neve part 13

Did Spanky subdue the vaginal bats? What in God’s name is he doing anyway? Go back here to follow us from the start.

“I don’t know. Only one way to find out. Any good miner knows, only way to check out underground is to put on yer lamp and get in there,” replied Knobby, very enigmatically. “But we need a canary, check it’s all safe.”

“You can’t shove a canary up her cunny you dozy pillock!” Spunky guffawed.

“I was being metaphorical you wassock! Mebbe you should be Dopey!” sneered Knobby. “What I mean is, we need to know the ground’s safe. Now what can we use?” Bianca heard the scratchy sound of beards being tugged in thought. “ I know – Dopey, you said she fed the beasts with a sausage. Go get one. We can poke her wi’ that. If the beasties are still alive they’ll latch on and we know it’s too dangerous – if not, in we go!”

Moments later, Bianca felt the rough end of the thick sausage push against her cunny, then slowly slip inside. She felt every ridge and bump as it slid deeply home and stopped there. She could imagine the sight she now provided – spread wide over Spanky’s contraption with her red bum glowing like a beacon, thighs thrust apart with a giant sausage sticking out of her conija.

After several minutes she heard murmurs.

“How long does it take,” whispered Tiny.

“Don’t know – it might be like baiting a deer trap,” whispered Spunky.

“Why are we whispering?” whispered Spanky.

“Oh just get up from there!” shouted Knobby. “Ye’ll see nothing til we pull out the sausage. If it’s still whole we’ve nowt to fear!”

“Ay, and we can still have sausage for supper!” piped Dopey.

“So what do we do? We can’t just leave her here in the middle of the room. We can’t get by.” That was Tiny.

Knobby took charge again. “Let’s just get her outside. We can leave her there while we finish the chores. We’ve still a lot to do – looks like she didn’t get any work done today and we’ve spent too long trying to wake her already. Look, it’s almost dark out. Come on, let’s carry her out on Spanky’s table.”

With that, she felt herself hoisted aloft. In moments she was outside, feeling the cool evening air on her bare flesh. She felt herself lowered and then a blanket was throw over her shoulders and back. She heard footsteps moving away and a door slammed.

Part 14 is here. Hurry over there before it disappears.

Bianca Neve Part 12

And so it goes on. I’m wondering why I ever started this . Still, if you want to catch up, you can start here.

At last she felt herself carried off the bed. She was draped over a soft but firm contraption. She felt herself tip forwards so her head was down, knees apart and butt high.

“Don’t forget the straps boys!” shouted Spanky. “We don’t want any accidents when she wakes.”

She felt straps being fastened around her waist and thighs to hold her steady. Once she was positioned, there was a hushed silence behind her. She could feel their eyes drinking in the sight she offered with her exposed bum and sex. She imagined Knobby was stroking his cock once more, and Slurpy eyeing her wet folds warily. What she didn’t imagine was the sudden, biting line of fire as Spanky’s leather strap whipped across and around her buttocks, leaving behind a line of fire and a sharp nip where the strap kissed her outer thigh. Internally she stiffened, screamed and struggled – but all the while she remained locked inside her own body. Again and again the pain bit into her soft, vulnerable buttocks as Spanky got into his rhythym, laying on the strap with a vigour in time to his own growing excitement.

She thought it would never end. Her bum cheeks were on fire as the strap whipped down again and again. And then she felt the surging begin again as her pleasure grew in time with his lashes. She climbed higher and higher as his strap bit harder and harder until she stiffened, froze and then released. Behind her she heard a gasp.

“Stop! Stop!” screamed Knobby. “By ‘eck lad! You’ve broken summat inside I think!” He looked around at the hushed crowd. “Did you lads see that? Like a geyser that was, right out of her cunny!”

“Oh no! Do you think she’s alright?” asked Spanky, his voice suddenly fearful.

Well we can’t leave it there! Part 13 is here.

Bianca Neve Part 11

The continuing adventures of Bianca Neve. It all started way back here.

“You’ve a way with that strap, I’ll give yer that,” said Knobby. “To be sure, young Droopy’s pointi’ North agin, and he can play a full part in ‘hide the sausage’, but the poor wee laddie cannot even sit for supper! I can’t ‘ave you marking our Bianca like that.”

Spanky smiled to himself at the thought of young Droopy secured over his trestle twice daily for his ‘medicine’. Little did he know that the reason for his dangly dobber was securely stashed inside Spanky’s pants pocket. He’d been dropping a little herbal concoction into his tea each morning. After a few days he’d eased off the dosage, so he could claim the benefits of his continued treatment. How else would he get one of the dwarves to drop pants to feel his strap? Nothing got his pecker up faster than the sight of a twitching pair of naked buttocks, ready to be marked with the kiss of leather. The thought of having Bianca’s fuller buttocks bared for his attention had his shaft almost ripping a hole in his breeches. It was one thing poking a dwarf with glowing red cheeks. The thought of having Bianca in the same state was almost too much for him to bear.

He tried to reply, squeeked, cleared his throat and tried to sound authoritative. “I know what I’m doing here lads. We just need to shake the bats from their cave. A good hard strapping is the best way to knock ‘em loose. If needs be, Knobby can follow up with a butt plowing to help her along. After that, she should be free o’ bats and ready for a proper going-at.”

There were murmurs of dissent at his words. Sensing that the high degree of scepticism might thwart his goal of whipping young Bianca’s soft cheeks, he pushed forwards. “Come on lads, what’s to lose? None of us can get to bed tonight ‘til we get her out of here anyways, and none of you have a better idea.” He nudged a couple of the quitter dwarves to help him, and pretty soon Bianca felt strong hands mauling and maneuvering her under Spanky’s direction. More than once a calloused hand squeezed her bubbies and dragged over her stiff young nipples, sending a lightning bolt straight to her pleasure nub and renewing her excitement and frustration.

Part 12 tomorrow

Bianca Neve Part 10

Slurpy’s done his job, now can Spunky bring her round? It all began here

“Come on then Spunky. Looks like Slurpy’s got the ground well prepared. Time for your tilling I think!” shouted another voice, accompanied by guffaws. “Ay, come on Spunky, get in there lad!”

Spunky felt his ardor wane at the thought of what had just happened to Slurpy – and that was just his tongue. What would happen if he shoved his todger in there and she trapped him like that? He could be eaten alive by her little bats! He felt sick at the thought.

“I, er, I think it’s too dangerous right now lads. The bats are likely flapping off the walls in there, thanks to Slurpy.”

Knobby sneered at Spunky. “Call yerself a dwarf! Scared of a little cave dweller are ye? Well, if you buggers won’t let plow a furrow up her arse again, we need to do something. We can’t leave her there all day. We need the bed.”

“I’ve an idea,” said a new voice. “Might be a chance for you to bugger her again here Knobby, you old fucker. It’s a wonder yer todger’s not stained brown the amount o’ time it’s in the shit!” Knobby muttered something she couldn’t catch.

“Anyhow, if none of us is Dwarf enough to go up ‘er shaft wi’out a canary, we might try shaking yon bats out o’ their roost.” Bianca’s mind struggled to place the voice. Sounded a bit like Spanky. She’d never yet figured out how he got that name, but it sounded like he had an idea that might get her out of this mess.

“What makes you think your such an expert on matters then??” sneered Knobby.

“Oh, you know. I’ve had my triumphs. Ask Droopy there. Came to me wi’ a floppy todger, not a boner in sight. I laid ‘im over my bench and strapped his arse, drove the blood straight into his todger. Did that for two weeks straight and now just the sight of a leather belt has ‘im standing strong as a prop in the mine.”

Droopy spoke. “Aye, mi’ pecker’s up agin, that’s for sure. And the added bonus is that I don’t need a friggin’ lantern down the mines any more, just drop my breeches and the glow from my cheeks lights up the whole friggin’ cavern!”

Part 11 is here