Swish... Thwack! - Anthology: a collection of adult caning stories

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A window was open in that small space known as the vestry. As they passed by an unmistakable sound emanated out, rooting them to the spot. They simply must look, but not be seen or they both might go over the knee of enthusiastic newbie, old-time Vicar. Mind you, thought Tasha naughtily, that might not be such a bad thing. Ladies of the PPC over a knee – it had a certain ring Thanks to the church, the Lord above, Vicars and local matriarchs. And of course the mistress of Spank herself, Aphrodite of the Beautiful Bare Acre and Bottom Bare – who else? Except in special cases. She’d even tried to have the class of spank re-formed. So girls could learn technique, if called. When I was 15, my nan was taken seriously ill, so my mum travelled to her bedside with my dad. As it was in school time, they felt that I should stay at home. Normally I would have gone to my Aunt Brenda but she too was on her way to see my nan, so it was decided that I should stay with my best friend Roger and his parents, while Aunt Brenda’s daughter Sarah was also sent to stay with her best friend.

There is always a rather rowdy, ribald crowd, with plump bare bottomed lasses on their knees giggling. The majority are plump older women, with ‘their girl’. We go and sit, she is about to start a tale….not verse, not poetry, but something akin to Chaucer, and his Canterbury tales. yes my dear, they certainly are, a sunset glow I must say – quite satisfactory on this day of major lessons and surprises!”. At first, Penny thought, it could be Laywoman Lawson, known as Michelle – a very similar size and shape, but no, the voice was not quite right to be her. A little tune is played, we sup our first gulp, look at the bottoms on show, and settle down for a blushing bottom tale of spanking… Now Penny, my dear”, said Tasha “I know I have been out of line as chum and deserve attentions to my bare bum. May I say, we’ve just had a masterclass in how it’s done from Mrs F, shall we set to?”Now Tasha and Penny withdrew from the view, in fair old agitated state. Tasha needed to relieve herself in more than ways than one. Penny had an overwhelming desire to spank a bare. A naughty solution came to both: I arrived at Roger’s house at the end of school day on a Friday. His mum soon settled me in and everything went well until the Sunday morning. Mr and Mrs Webb were both very religious and attended a church service in the next town. They both dressed formally and Roger and I were put in our school uniforms. No, it was not Michelle. Then she got it. The bottom bare its owner fair was Mrs F – she lived next door. Well, well, well. Matriarch of six herself, of Family Frobisher: a husband, two daughters, two sons, a nephew and a niece. She was no stranger to give and receive, that time honoured fashion of women and men. Tasha just tingled a great deal more, and longed for her fingers to go and explore down in that place which sends you to space, but that could wait, and Mrs F’s own technique she just had to see. (A little plan formed in her head). She sat down on that vestry chair, creaking slightly under the weight of bare acre, which made Tasha giggle. Her freshly spanked cheeks on wood nestled. She was ready! Vicar went over, displaying a bare quite boyish but chunky, too much indulgence and not enough fasting. In looks both fore, and aft, Penny was reminded of Finn, husband and partner to Laywoman Lawson, who as it happened gave and received as Penny suspected (found out on a visit one night). A spanking husband and a spanking wife was quite the zeitgeist among the 40 somethings. Equal opportunities.

And what a sight met their eyes. Vicar sat, trousers at knees, his own bare cheeks upon the chair wood (Tasha nodded in approval). Across his lap lay a bottom bare of sizable girth, and rounded cheek being turned white to pink with vigour and vim. In short he was giving it what for with a good deal of welly thrown in. But who was the owner of those bare acres? She could be heard, but face not seen. She sits, legs open, her chin on her hand, elbow on knee. “Hello all, I think you’ll like this un!” Now it was Tasha’s turn – her long-suffering spanker was getting impatient so she should complete the task , or else. Besides, it was getting a little cold. English graveyards are never warm. So, Tasha without much further ado, unbuttoned the dungarees. The flaps unflapped, hooks were unhooked and buttons undone, until at last the trews and panties came down (not Raeger but M&S) revealing a sight of total delight – a deeper-cheeked rear of width and girth. Penny gave out a cry of delight – “what an inheritance my dearest friend – your splendid bottom bare – which in time will no doubt be passed on to generations yet unborn”.Tasha said, “Penny, now listen we’re both hot and bothered. No need to go far. This churchyard’s large, let’s find a grave stone and you can set to…” Then the lady holding the cane said: “Take off all your clothes, then bend over the stool.” I was now horrified. I again protested but the lady just smiled and said it was the church’s rule that all punishments were administered with the recipient naked. Penny said, “What, now and here? Tasha, darling girl, you’ve’ got a walloping coming your way, hell or high water, but what do you mean? I’m taking you home by the ear, to deal with your rear…”. Well, another thing which Penny noticed, was not surprising in itself but she took with utmost discretion and tact, although she was feeling very like that herself – a wetness on the lap where Tasha’s weight was bearing. Her instinct was to ignore but note – Tasha would sort that on her own. Yet, she took it as a compliment that she and Tasha could share such things – a bottom bare, the natural juices, all so healthy – that a spanking sometimes produces when done as it should be – vigorously, as Mrs F would say.