Sunday, August 25, 2013

Can't sit down Sunday!


4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sexy, Sexy, sexy!
The Ghost
Sir Edmond was the patriarch of Willow Manor and he was extremely upset with the girl in his house. He had listened patiently as he heard Veronica talking into a tape recorder about his home. But when her conversation turned to renovating his beloved Manor he took action. Veronica at the time was in what used to be his pride and joy; the library. He had heard enough from this saucy vixen. When invisible hands moved a chair to the middle of the room, Veronica made for the door. She had heard this place was haunted; now she knew, and was not going to stick around to see anymore. But when steely unseen hands grabbed both her arms and effortlessly dragged her to the chair, he had placed in the center of the room, she was petrified and helpless. He easily pulled her over his lap. The room was icy cold. It turns out when ghosts expend energy; it sucks heat from the surrounding area. Veronica was shivering, whether from the cold or fear, it is impossible to guess.
To digress a moment; in his day Sir Edmond was no stranger to doling out discipline. He had strapped, caned, birched, whipped, and placed many a naughty lass otk for a through and butt blistering spanking. He preferred otk because of the physical closeness to the unfortunate victim. A sturdy oak hairbrush was his favorite implement. It was perfect for the job at hand, and he loved the delightful sound it made when striking those venerable upturned cheeks. He also relished the sensations imparted from a wiggling bottom to his privates. And in almost every case, the victim felt his massive hardness. Veronica would feel it too! He was a tried and true spanko by today’s standards.
When Sir Edmond delivered the first stinging swat to Veronica’s bottom it was with his hand over her pants. But Sir Edmond tired of that quickly, so he unceremoniously pulled her pants down to her ankles, exposing a beautiful and sexy bottom that was made for spanking. He was delighted. Veronica on the other hand was dazed and confused, what will he do next?
She found out quickly as his ghostly hand began to raze her panty clad bottom with stinging swat after swat. This has to be a dream Veronica was thinking, but the pain in her bottom told her it was real. This ghost knew exactly how to get a girl’s bottom gyrating over his lap, and Veronica was no exception. She writhed, squirmed and literally danced on the lap of this unseen ghost. Her yelps and moans from this fantastical spanking could be heard by no one except them. The house was miles from any other home.
Sir Edmond not having his trusted hairbrush but being his wily self, had spotted a 12” lexan ruler Veronica always carried in her purse, when viewing properties of interest. He wasted no time in retrieving it, and then he yanked her panties down to her knees. He admired his handiwork on her bottom, but quickly started to apply the lexan ruler to her already red and tender cheeks. He was ecstatic; he had not felt these tingling erotic sensations for a long, long time, and unfortunately for Veronica, he was in no hurry for it to end. The lexan ruler rose and fell upon her butt relentlessly. Veronica lost track of time, the pain was intense. But now she felt another type of burning, building in her sex; not to mention the huge object nestled below her undulating hips, all of it was extremely pleasurable. Sir Edmond was aware of the velvet sheen building on this naughty girl’s sex; he had seen many of those he had punished with the same telltale signs. He no longer had any anger towards Veronica, it was pure lust!
What happens next? Only Veronica and Sir Edmond know for sure

Robert Stephens said...

A spanking for breakfast..... How delicious!

Njspank said...

Such a lovely glow on a lovely bottom, well done bottom that is.
Always
Ron

Anonymous said...

Were you naughty at breakfast Veronica ?boohoo. Can't beat a good spontaneous spanking first thing...to kick-start the day:-)

Growing up, breakfast spankings were rare. Sister and I did not get into our bratty strides until at least 10am. Lol ...

I always felt vulnerable at breakfast in jammies...just a thin covering of fabric covering my cosy, tender fair botty. Just one bit of foul language...and one tug on the waistband of my PJs and I would be in hot water!

But this frisson was illusionary - my whitest backside was always completely bare for the switch-cane from mama or papa whatever the time of day and whatever I was wearing. Boohoo. So strict times, those 1960s and 70s. But I still love the worry and vulnerability of wearing jammies downstairs Gulp ! Brenda x