This blog
has been going for less than a year and has effortlessly passed my other blog
on the antics of local theatre folk. That is popular (no I shan’t tell you what
it is) but clearly an alternative antic involving the fearful lowering of pants
for disciplinary pleasures has a wider appeal. I am not surprised. If there is
anything more stimulating than baring one’s behind for the whack of an avenging
cane or strap then I have yet to discover it. Simple, innocent, invigorating,
and not available in Waitrose. A Master or Mistress, fantasy or fact, it does
not matter. Bend over, pull down those nether garments, and feel the swishing
sting on the naked cheeks. That is all. Beats all the proffered pills from the
surgery. And if you can’t do it, or not too often, then writing about it is a fair
second best. Or that is what I think. And, thank God, some folks like to read
it. Whacking Tales is my bit of fun
for a private and specialised world that is rarely talked about. Indulged in by
postmen and politicians, farmers and firemen, nurses and number crunchers, it
is a pleasure unsurpassed. If it did not exist we would have to invent it. In a
way I suppose we did. When that first authoritative human smacked his first
bottom he laid down a trail that endures to this day. The charm of such
activity will never die out and the internet underlines its fascination. This
blog is just a small part of it. On it I have just passed the Ten Thousand hit
mark (10,000) and all of them are beautifully sweet. I thank you all.
I am
fortunate in that I do not care who whacks my bottom, male or female, providing
they know what they are doing but many of you are different. At least if you
reading preferences are anything to go by. F/m
and F/M still figure a long way ahead of M/m and M/M. And stories are much more popular than poems or
autobiographical pieces. Explains why I
Have Never Seen Whipstock Grange (F/M story inspired by a real place) still
saunters over everything with 14% of the hits. The next six (all generally F/m
stories) account for over a combined 36%. You have to get down to Yesterday’s Boy (autobiographical M/m)
in eighth place with 4% of hits before a different scenario intrudes.
And in 28
posts (this is the 29th for the mathematicians amongst you) my two
poems can only muster a measly 0.89%. I get the message. Loud and clear.
Stories, preferably F/m. One to be posted shortly. It is my way of saying thank
you.
To come:
The Boy in Black Trunks.
It is
long. It is on the Lulu site, but not
selling well. And it predates The Past is
Always Present and The Boston
Landlady. But when it comes to being whacked you clearly like this F/m sort
of thing. And this boy, pants down, gets whacked many times. As does his girl.
So all tastes catered for in my shameless quest for the next ten thousand hits.
Alfred Roy