Blogging CP
stories has its compensations when you are laid up. I have hankered for some
disciplinary action in recent weeks, the mood comes when you least expect it,
but that strange need has coincided with a winter bug that refuses to shift. Not
much fun lowering your pants for some loving whacks when you are sneezing all
over the place. Two appointments, one with a beloved professional mistress and
one with an enthusiastic amateur master have had to be cancelled. The lady
charges, the male doesn’t, but each thwacks with consummate expertise and I was
looking forward to both. I am lucky, I have said so before, as when my bottom
is bared and my jewels dangling I care nothing of the gender of the strap or
cane wielder. Male hands on those jewels will always evoke more pleasure but as
long as the cane is true and hard across my bottom, both a master and mistress
can please. Probably explains why I like Whipstock Grange. In that place, male
and female teachers, bottoms are bared and trashed but all other areas remain tantalisingly
untouched.
But, as I say,
a persistent early winter bug has thwarted disciplinary expectations. Other
folks must have the same problem and no doubt they solve it in their own
private way. Excuse me doctor I have a
nasty cold and a desperate urge to be thrashed on my bare bottom. Can you give
me a cure for both? Unlikely. But I am lucky and a few weeks of enforced
monastic solitude have driven me to my computer. The result is two tales of
discipline that will be my Christmas offering to my story blog. I am pleased
about that. New stories always please me more than regurgitated old ones. I
detail them both below, one F/m and the other M/m, as I wish to please both
types of readers. But most of all I wish to please me. And if I could not get
physically whacked when I had a consuming need at least I could put myself in the
place of the two boys in these stories. I am both of them, the Cotswolds
Schoolboy and the Cabin Boy, and that is why writing has such wonderful
compensations. Even when you are sneezing, and desperate for the real thing.
The Woman in the Window (F/m) A schoolboy on holiday
in the Cotswolds steals apples from the garden of a woman who watches from her
window. All is not what it seems in this enigmatic tale. He gets both a
spanking he clearly desired and a later, uncomfortable, understanding of his
dying father.
Sailor Beware (M/m) Inspired by an e-mailer who requested a story on sea scouts being
strapped. It happened to him and he wished for its recreation. But on the
sensible adage of write what you know I shifted it to the canals. Lazing on
narrow boats on sundry canals was one of the joys of my life. And I got
thrashed on some of them. So for sea scout read Cabin Boy and his strange
companions.
I shall post
them both here shortly, well in time for Christmas. I mean, let’s face it, much
as all on this blog are united by smarting bottoms we all still have to shop
for those bloody Christmas presents. Alfred Roy