July 2014 – Our Bottoms Burn

Do You Know Her?

I know this woman.

The other day I saw this picture on the left. Strong resemblance. Does anyone know her?

I discovered 13 stories in the vault this morning. Only two written by me, the rest authored by a talented dear friend of long ago. I will call her the Devine Miss E. We shared a decade of discovering what we liked about dominance and submission. Most of her stories are based on things we did or thought about doing. Her mind was quick and nimble – Mensa level. It was a pleasure to have known her. I will share her stories here in dribbles for months. I hope you will savor them as I do.

I don’t normally post dominate/submissive items here, so this will be a exception, showing a glimpse from my younger years.

The Surrogate by DME

She pulled into the parking lot at the hotel and paused a moment to get
her breath. She considered turning around and driving away, but knew she
couldn’t. His instructions had been very specific. The man opened
the door and gestured her to come in. Nothing in his expression gave her a
clue about his personality or character, but at least he didn’t look like a
typical ax-murderer. She sat nervously in the chair he offered and in a few
minutes the phone rang. Instead of answering, he switched on the speaker and
a voice she longed for filled the room. “What are you wearing?” No prelude,
no reassurance, nothing. She described her clothes. “And underneath?” She
hesitated a moment, sneaking a glance at the man, but when the request was
repeated impatiently, she had to comply. Already she was dying of
embarrassment.

“My associate has agreed to serve as your disciplinarian. You will obey
him and respectfully submit in every way. Is that clear?” She nodded, but
then realized she had to speak and meekly answered. “Remove your panties and
hand them over.” Frozen by fear and shame, she wanted to beg him to withdraw
his request, but hated for the man to see her do so. Resolutely she looked
away and reached under her skirt to comply, showing as little skin as
possible. She held the flimsy bit of red silk out at arm’s length, but
refused to make eye contact. “Now walk to the bed and lean over. Raise your
skirt and place your hands on the bed; it is time for your paddling.” He
begin to list all the reasons she would be paddled, and that embarrassed her
more than the position she had to assume. Only he should know her innermost
failings. Before she could catch herself, she shot the man a surly look. What
right had he to be party to this?

“I think we should start with four firm strokes.” The man picked up a
paddle and touched her; she jumped at the contact. Then she sensed him
drawing back and the paddle fell with a burst of pain. She dreaded him seeing
her express any pain, but by the third stroke she was crying out and leaning
away from the paddle as it fell. “Tell me how that felt.”   “IT HURT!”
“Did you try to move your bottom away from the paddle?” In a tight voice she
answered, “Yes, Sir. But I couldn’t help it”. “Couldn’t or wouldn’t?   Never
mind. You may have two more strokes to show that you will obey me and hold
your position.” She knotted the spread in her hands and bit her bottom lip.
She arched her back and when the first stroke fell, she moaned, but kept her
bottom high and ready for the next. A little sob escaped her lips with the
second, but more from the humiliation of the stranger’s gaze than the pain.
It had taken her many months to be able to give herself to HIM in this way,
and now he ordered her to do so for a complete stranger.

Weekend Tease Revealed

Not recommended for water skiing, surfing or diving!

GOD

BLESS ENGINEERS

EVERYWHERE!!!

Weekend Tease

Guess what this is….

No, it is not an eye patch,

No, it is not a head band,

No, it is not a knee brace,

No, it is not a medical support

Answer will be revealed Sunday or Monday

Sexier Than Guess Her Muff – Redux

One of the most viewed posts on OBB is Sexier Than Guess Her Muff from 2013. In that post, I said there is website where you are shown a picture of fully dressed woman and invited to try to Guess Her Muff and then click to see if you are right. I have a rather low opinion of the site. It’s just not sexy to me. I know many of our readers like beaver shots, but we don’t. We think posting a selfie of your genitalia on the web is cheap. Of course, we don’t like tramp stamps or metal hoops on the face. Call us dinosaurs.

We like the old style tease. You can find genitalia all over the web. Just not here.

Horse Tale

I was looking for a real life account of riding to the hounds and getting cropped in the stable and found this fictional story. I suspect it was written by a man. I will keep looking for the real life account. Meanwhile…I need a post for Wednesday.

When I was 14, my family moved from New York City to Southern
California. I grew up loving horses and was given riding lessons in New York. After
we moved to L.A., I was thrilled to discover a stable down the road from
our house. I worked there every day during the summer and after school
and on weekends during the year. That first summer I was given my first
cropping by Jeff, the gorgeous foreman. After that, Jeff found every possible
opportunity to crop and spank me.

I continued to work at the stable all through high school and college.
Even after I quit working there, I would return occasionally to visit, and
Jeff would always find some reason to punish me. He never cropped me bare,
but made up for the protection of my clothing by striking hard and always
on the same place, right at the crease between bottom and thighs. Sometimes
he would pull my jeans and panties off after cropping me, and give me a
handspanking. He never touched me elsewhere, and we never had sex. However,
I usually had a tremendous orgasm just from the cropping or spanking.

Well, I went home to L.A. for Christmas this year, and I had called Jeff a
couple of weeks before to let him know I’d be in town. We set a date
to meet, Saturday the 23rd. I hadn’t seen him in over three years, and
was very anxious to do so. I borrowed my dad’s Volvo and drove the 40 miles to
the stable from Dad’s house. The stable owners were gone for the
holidays, and all the other employees were gone for the weekend. Jeff was the only
one there, and when I got there he met me at the car, picked me up and
gave me a hug and spun me around in the air. Then he put me down, winked at me
in the old way, and proceeded to show me around the stable. We looked at all
the horses and he showed off some trophies they had won since I had quit
working there. Jeff told me, “You know, we’ve never found anyone who could
plait manes and tails as well as you could.” I was pleased and flattered
and told him so. Then he said, “But I remember you were very slow at it, and I
had to teach you a lesson about taking too long. In fact, I’m not sure you
were ever thoroughly punished for that! What do you think?”

I shivered in anticipation. “No, Jeff, I’m sure I didn’t really learn
that lesson.” I put my hands behind me and rubbed my soon-to-be-stinging
bottom. “That’s what I thought!” He unclipped his crop from his belt. “Come
over here.” He sat down on the nearby hay bale. I stood in front of him,
my hands still on my bottom. “Well, Miss Katie, what are you waiting
for? You know the routine.” I went to his right side and draped myself over
his lap. He grabbed my right wrist and pulled it up behind me, holding it tight
at the small of my back so I wouldn’t be able to cover my bottom. I held my
breath and waited. “All right, Miss Katie, this is gonna sting!”

He raised his crop high, held it there for a few seconds, then brought
it down hard across the very lowest part of my backside. I gasped. I
had forgotten how much that crop hurt! He raised it again, and brought it
slashing down, right on the same burning stripe of pain. “OOWW!!” I
heard him chuckle and say, “I told you it was gonna sting!” Again his crop
whistled into my sore butt. “OOOWWW!!! Damn, that hurts, Jeff!”

He stopped for a moment, and I tried to catch my breath. “Miss Katie,
I think you’ve forgotten that we don’t swear here. I believe you’re
going to regret that little outburst.” Oh God, I HAD forgotten that swearing
at the Rocking L Ranch was expressly forbidden. A first offense resulted in
a warning, and a second offense meant being summarily dismissed. How
could I have forgotten? Jeff himself had drummed this into my head and
backside that very first summer.

The thrice-struck welt burned and I tried to squirm to relieve the
pain. This only served to remind Jeff of his current purpose in life. Once
again he raised that wicked crop and slammed it down into that same tender
weal. I caught my breath, but before I could yell Jeff brought the crop down
again, and yet again. “OOOOWWW!!! JEFF, PLEASE STOP!!”

To my surprise, he did. He rubbed the crop along the length of that
throbbing weal at the base of my bottom. I winced and squealed as he
continued to side the crop over the stripe. I started to realize how
hot Jeff had made me by cropping me the way he used to. I arched my back
and pressed my bottom up against the crop. Without warning, he lifted the
crop and slashed it down again, and again, and again, and finally, the last
time. I was sobbing with pain and sexual excitement.

Jeff released my wrist and allowed me to get up. I thrust both hands
behind me and tried to rub the tremendous pain away. He watched me for a few
minutes, amused by my antics. After I calmed down a bit, Jeff said,
“Come here and stand in front of me, Miss Katie. And keep your hands at
your sides.” I stood in front of him and clenched my fists at my sides to
keep from rubbing my bottom. He said, “Have you learned your lesson about
dawdling over plaiting manes and tails?” I nodded, sniffing, and
replied, “Yes, Jeff, I’ve learned!” “Good. Now we have your swearing to deal
with.”

“Oh, Jeff, please! I’m sorry I swore, really I am! Please don’t crop
me anymore! My bottom is so sore already!” Jeff grinned at me in his
usual insolent manner. “You think you’re sorry, but you’re not as sorry as
you will be! And don’t worry, I won’t crop you again. Now unbutton your
Levi’s.”

I unbuttoned my 501’s and put my hands back by my sides. Jeff took my wrist
and pulled me back over his knees. “Lift up a little, Miss Katie.” I
put my hands down on the floor and pushed my bottom in the air. Jeff put
both of his hands in my waistband and pulled my jeans and panties together
down to my thighs. “All right, now give me your hand.” Once again, he held my
right wrist at the small of my back. He used one finger to trace the throbbing
10-stroke welt at the bottom of my backside. “I’m very disappointed
that you forgot the number one rule here at the Rocking L, especially since I
have had to correct you for this before. By the time I’m done, you won’t be
using that kind of language around here. Now, are you ready?”

I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and mumbled an assent. I
felt him raise his right hand, and then felt the blazing pain across my
right cheek. I let out a muffled yelp, then his hand came crashing down
again on my left cheek. He began spanking me hard and fast, alternating
cheeks. I squirmed and kicked, but there was no avoiding that hard leathery palm
blasting away at my behind. “Shame on you, Miss Pottymouth! You’re a
very bad girl!” Harder and harder his hand fell, covering every part of my
flaming bottom. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Well?” I couldn’t
speak, being caught up in an unbelievably intense orgasm. “You bad girl!
Answer me!” When I could finally get enough breath, I shrieked, “YES! YES!
I’M SORRY! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!” To my enormous relief, Jeff finally
stopped spanking me. He reached down to my clothes, told me to lift up again,
and pulled my jeans and panties back up. Then he allowed me to get up off
his lap, and discreetly turned away while I rearranged my clothing.

“Well, Miss Katie, do you feel like going for a gallop now?”, Jeff
said with a wink. “I always said you had an exceptional seat!”

Female Laps – IV

The locker of posts is empty. This is the last one. I need to get busy and get some ready to publish.

Fourth and last in a series – This eye candy post should appeal to the degenerate men, like myself, who get a thrill from seeing a flash of thigh. Personally, I prefer a little revealing more than pure nudity.

Male bottoms see a female lap and think how they would like to lay over it and be spanked. Well this series of posts should interest them. I don’t care the OTK position myself, but I like these pictures.

Some of the pictures are just pictures of women with great legs. These is no explicit suggestion in the picture that spanking is contemplated. They are not holding a hairbrush or motioning for you to lay over their laps. Still, for me, they scream spanking.

Just add your own captions.

I hope that you enjoyed the series as much as I did picking the pictures.

Lap Photos – III

Third in a series – This eye candy post should appeal to the degenerate men, like myself, who get a thrill from seeing a flash of thigh. Personally, I prefer a little revealing more than pure nudity.

Just add your own captions.