At the last
count I reckon, published in various places, I have penned nearly 70 stories
and articles on the age old theme of folks having their bottoms whacked. I have
had boys baring all for masters and mistresses, men visiting professionals and
internet surfers, youngsters meeting a spanking Father Christmas, fictional sex
mad teenagers meeting their creator, and occasionally even girls dropping
knickers for a well deserved wallop. I have penned poems and true life pieces,
I got whacked a lot at school, and extended it to the real life adult
situations of that glorious establishment known as Whipstock Grange. I have
intermingled fact and fiction, some happened to me but most didn’t, and applied
a writer’s licence to blur the lines. I have set the scenes in a variety of
places. Homes, hotels, clubs, hospitals, schools, pseudo schools, professional
dens, imagination, and huts endowed with magic. The odd one includes the edges
of sexual activity but most concentrate on what this blog is about. Whacking
Tales. A bottom and a smacking. Bottoms are bare, clothed, or somewhere in between
and smackings are delivered with hand, strap, cane or slipper. Or in one case,
an old Victorian birch. But in essence the theme is always the same. Somebody,
somewhere, gets a sore bum.
It is hardly
surprising that given this output over the last few years I have periods of
deluge and periods of drought. The trick is to take advantage of the former and
leave off in the latter. There is nothing more unsatisfying than penning a CP
story when the inspiration or desire isn’t there. In the world of intellectual
wanking a formulaic story penned in a barren period will read like
unimaginative dross. I know, I have been there and it is salutary. Scrapping
something you have spent a week on because it has not a smidgeon of original creativity
is both necessary and painful. But, as I tell many people, the CP scenario is
invigorating but narrow. You need inspiration to wrap the delight of an
avenging cane hitting a compliant and naked bottom in a realistic setting with
fleshed out people. When my fictional strap hits its fictional bottom I want
you to know something about the actors in the scene. Without it you just get
whack, whack, ouch. With it you can identify, depending on your disposition,
with the one wielding or the one receiving. And that takes time.
I have an
e-mail correspondent who is intrigued by how I develop my ideas. He is an early
fan of my Connie Wilmer/Andy Styles stories and one of the first to buy my book
on discipline stories. (Scenes from a Disciplined
Mind). A delightful correspondent I have been happy to engage with over the
internet. It was because of him that I developed the reunion of Mrs Wilmer and
Master Styles in The Past is always
Present and, fortuitously, this led on to the fleshing out of a minor character
in that to a later story. It often happens and usually when you least expect
it. My first story on this blog, The Wall,
came about because a friend made the casual remark that he would like to
thrash the boy who smashed into his pristine brick wall. I Have Never Seen Whipstock Grange, my most popular story, followed
a visit to the establishment. Ideas come when you least expect them and writers
need both the patience of a saint and the opportunistic guile of a villain.
I am hoping
I have capitalised on all these ingredients with The Boston Landlady. She’s the minor character in The Past is always Present for those not
paying attention. She’s big, she’s lovely, and she’s black. That’s a first.
Perhaps I have an unspoken hankering for such ladies. But most of all she has
emotional baggage. Oodles of it. She straps and spanks her young lodger’s bare
behind with obvious desire and narrative reason. I like her and my draft
readers, pernickety lot, say it is a CP story with a sad and realistic ring. I
shall post it here shortly and when you read it you may like to think of how it
came about. My Boston landlady smacks a naked backside with relish but who she
is emerged from my desire to create a new Mrs Wilmer story for a valued
correspondent. She was just a small, sub plot, coda. But I am always looking
for ideas, that’s the challenge, and she gave me one. It is the same old story,
boy dropping jeans and a smacked bottom from an authoritative woman, but it has
its reasons and its setting. That is much more important than ouch, ouch,
whack.
Coming soon – The Boston Landlady
(F/m)