Spanking Niece

Spanking Niece

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Tony Conrad on January 8, 2014 said:

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Examples of Victorian domestic correction and (far right) Mrs Beeton
Here in Britain the BBC TV recently showed again their teleplay The Secret Life of Mrs Beeton (shown on Masterpiece Theatre in the US).
For those who don’t know, at the age of only 22, Mrs Beeton wrote a very famous book on Victorian household management, which is still in print today.
Her husband and publisher, Samuel Orchart Beeton, was the first UK publisher of Uncle Tom’s Cabin and perhaps of more interest to readers here The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine .
The EDM , although considered a wholesome family magazine of the time, did feature extensive accounts and suggestions on the discipline of young women. Some of which has been discussed on the Voice before .
Indeed, so graphic did some of the articles and letters become that even today the respectable magazine is often denounced as “to contain barely disguised episodes of sadomasochistic fantasy in the form of lengthy descriptions and discussions of whipping.”
It is clear that Mr Beeton had a prurient interest in all things spanking. Perhaps that is why he was drawn to Uncle Tom’s Cabin . Although to be fair to his detractors, he did eventually pull the flagellation strand from his magazine, sensing perhaps that he had allowed it go too far.
Here is a taste of the kind of thing reported:
“I am distinctly in favour of the rod, duty, obedience and discipline make for very good, well behaved girls. Even ladies of rank must on occasion be treated like a child and put across the knee. She must make her own arrangements for her punishment, as it is essential that she must loose all sense of power. Failing this the party administering the punishment should always part or lower the girl’s draws as this adds to the feelings of shame.”
“As to witnesses, this can be can be held as a threat to ensure that there is no rebellion. However, if one carries out this threat, then have a care who is present to avoid a possible scandal. If done with propriety it serves the lady well to be taken down a peg or two.”
There was a great deal more in this vein, although the text often had an annoying habit of breaking out in French at intervals to obscure the meaning for the less educated reader.
This brings us to the point of this post.
In the afore mentioned play Mr Beeton’s fascination with flagellation was touched upon. However it was entirely attributed to insanity brought on by his syphilis. Now had this been merely a reporting of a Victorian view than it would have been understandable, but this analysis was delivered by the dead Mrs Beeton describing her husband’s life after hers. Words put into her mouth by the 21st century playwright.
It is odd that in a so-called enlightened age the sexuality of a whole section of society has to be explained away as an illness. Would they have made so glib a statement if Mr Beeton had been gay.
So be advised the Victorians are not yet safely dead and all of you who have an interest here are apparently insane. They are coming to take you away…
You continue to amaze me with your resources and never ending posts about all things CP an spanking related. Do you spend all day doing reserarch to find all this stuff?
I agree another person present adds to the disipline sometimes to hold the naughty person down if she squirms and wriggles also add to the disipline to be punished in front of a wittness!!!
In the so called ‘good olde days’, the Victorian household was ruled by the master of the house, be it his wife who was naughty, or his daughter, his mother-in-law, grandmother, aunt, niece, maid, female cook, nanny, or any other female working in his household, she would be subject to corporal discipline. Corporal Discipline would take the form of a good birching, caning or whipping on the naughty female’s bare bottom. For up would go their dresssess, down would come their knickers, or bloomers, and on these naughty female naked bare bottoms, these painfull spanking implements would be put to good use, Most painfull use.
I don’t think one should take pleasure in anothers punishment. Two adults consenting is a different thing.
An interesting point and food for thought, not to say a post. Thanks Tony
It would not be necessary to hold the girl down as it is likely a punishment ‘horse’ would be used to strap her down to then have her bottom bared for a thorough caning or birching depending on the degree of disobedience. The girls mother would be present to determine when she had taken enough to be punished
that’s one way – I suspect though it was not usually so full on as that
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This blog is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented here are intended for adults. Nothing here should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
All characters appearing in short stories on this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This blog aims to explore themes of erotic discipline, female submission and spanking. It features stories, anecdotes and observations by DJB and others.
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New HD Spanking Pictures Published: Nov 24, 2019
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Ok so here are some old pictures that I have re done in full 1080 HD. This is a new format and way of producing the images they will all be in 16X9 (like a wide screen TV). Also soon I will be adding some animated sequences top the stories, even some short films.
The few sets of pictures here have been re rendered with the new system. The clarity is amazing (and will get even better as I add new plugins and stuff). There is a section of pictures in the site some are sampled here of Mary Lou’s old school. She is over her Head Mistresses lap having her pert little bottom smacked by hand. Also there is a few picture from the story “Pocket Money Spankings”. The Uncle and Auntie have decided to offer their cheeky little Niece a spanking in exchange for some extra pocket money. The naughty girl decide to take them up on the offer exchanging a hot red stinging bottom for some extra cash.
Deceptively innocent looking badgirl! Hopefully the deal includes bare bottom spankings and a plenty of corner time with panties at the ankles!

Smiles and Spanks
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Andy, the creator of the blog Someone’s Gonna Get It , sent me a bunch of spanking magazines! I love them all, particularly the one with Keith Jones on the cover, Stand Corrected . Seeing his smile reminds me of the wonderful evenings (and early mornings!) we shared at Shadow Lane. We played for hours with the birch and had endless conversations about spanking.
Smiles and Spanks, NaturallyGin.com
Ian Hamilton is a professional free-lance illustrator, of British origin, now living in France. Below are spanking scenes from his various e-magazines, which can be purchased in full here. Mr. Hamilton produces an e-magazine of his own spanking artwork. It costs £12/$20/€15 for a yearly subscription. Each subscriber receives throughout…
A Nu-West Comic by Stephanie Burke, The Cloakroom. For the connoisseur of corporal punishment and home discipline... Smiles and Spanks, NaturallyGin.com
A Nu-West Comic, A Visit To Aunt Rita's. For the connoisseur of corporal punishment and home discipline... Smiles and Spanks, NaturallyGin.com

I was finishing up grad school, having completed all my course work and the research for my thesis. I just needed a place to plug in my computer and finish writing the thing. My problem was money-my loans and grants were almost gone, and I wasn't eligible for a dorm now that classes were over. The ad looked perfect -- room and board in a private residence in exchange for light housekeeping. The house was a beautiful old Victorian on a quiet street. When I knocked, the door was answered by a huge severe looking woman. She was built like a battleship, with a wide moon like face, an enormous bust, wide hips and large buttocks, and powerful looking legs. She was also completely put together-- her hair was perfectly coiffed in a stiff bouffant, her make-up was perfect, her nails manicured. She was wearing a stiff maroon silk brocade dress that hugged her body, accentuating her bust, sheer hose and classic black patent pumps with spike heels. Jewelry gleamed on her hands, wrists and neck.
She looked me up and down for a full minute while I stood awkwardly in the doorway. I introduced myself. “I am the Landlady, Mrs. Fairchild,” she announced. Then without warning she reached over and grasped my elbow and steered me into the house. “I will show you the entire house, starting with the kitchen.” She walked briskly in her pumps, her grip on my elbow was like iron, and I struggled to keep up with her pace. The house was filled with beautiful furninture. We ended up in “my room” which contained what looked like a girl's bedroom set in white with gold accents, including a carved four-poster bed, frilly accents including pink floral curtains, and a large collection of antique dolls lining the shelves of one wall. Mrs. Fairchild explained my housekeeping duties and handed me a bundle, which turned out to be a gauzy full white apron trimmed in red, with short puffy sleeves, a pleated skirt and wide ribbons which tied in back.
“You will wear this while performing your housekeeping chores in order to keep your clothing immaculate. I insist on a well ordered home. Any questions?” She stood there with her hands on her hips, looking down at me. I just shook my head no. “Excellent. Get your things, I'd like you to get started this afternoon.” Even though I hadn't even said I wanted to take the room, she had already gripped my elbow again and was leading me down to the parlor, asking me when I would return with my things. I stammered that I needed some time to pack, and thought that moving in tommorow might make more sense. She immediately stopped in her tracks, turned and grasped my chin with her manicured thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look up into her eyes.
“I told you I want you to start today. We have a lot of work to do here, and I don't like dilly-dallying dear. Now, I expect you back here in four hours with your things. Understood.?” I was in shock. She kept my face tilted up in her hand. Her perfume was strong and I felt dizzy. What was I getting into? At the same time I felt my pen-s getting hard in my pants, which I didn't understand at all. Suddenly I felt myself nodding my head yes and saying “O.K.” The Landlady's red lips made an approving smile and her hand patted my cheek, her thumb pressed against my lips. “Excellent.”
While packing my things I started to have second thoughts about what I was getting into. Mrs. Fairchild was completely intimidating and obviously used to getting her way. I examined the frilly apron she had given me. What other demands would she make? I had a feeling that once I moved in things would only get worse. But I couldn't get her out of my head. When I thought of standing frozen in front of her, forced to stare directly into her eyes by the grip of her fingers firmly “chucking” me under my chin, I felt wobbly. I had to see her again. I figured if things got out of hand, I could always leave.
Four and a half hours later I arrived by taxi, my computer, books, papers and clothing packed in several boxes and couple of suitcases. I carried my things up to the front porch and rang the bell. Mrs. Fairchild opend the door and stared at me diapprovingly.
“You're 30 minutes late.” Her tone was icy, and she was impatiently tapping the toe of one of her pumps as she held the door open. I started to stammer a response when she cut me off.
“Never mind. Get those things into your room. We have a lot to do. No dilly-dallying!” I hustled the first box up the stairs. Mrs. Fairchild kept tapping her foot and admonishing me to hurry. I was panting when I finally brought the last box up to the room. I sat on the edge of the bed to catch my breath.
“What are you doing?!” I jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. The Landlady stood in front of me. Again she chucked me under the chin. The sensation of her hand holding my face made by breath come even harder.
“Sweetheart, we NEVER sit on the edge of the bedspread. It is uncouth. And it is only polite to ask my permission if you wish to be seated in my presence, don't you agree?” Her hand tilted my head back even farther, so I was looking up into her gaze.
“Yes maam.” Again she smiled and patted my cheek, letting the ball of her thumb brush against my lips.
“You have lovely lips dear, has anyone ever told you that?” She traced my lips with her thumb. I felt frozen. Her physical presence was overwhelming me. I barely shook my head no. With a final pressure, which almost caused her thumb to part my startled lips she released me. She moved behind me and I could hear her remove something from a box. Before I could turn around I felt something being brought over my head. It was the apron. Without asking me, she lifted my arms into the sleeveholes and drawing the ribbons tight trussed me into the apron, tying a large floppy bow the small of my back.
“There. Now lets get started.” As I looked down at the full pleated gauzy skirt of the apron, I was again being dragged by the arm. When Mrs. Fairchild gave me my list of chores, I could see right away that this so-called “light housekeeping” would barely leave me time to do anything else. Under her watchful eye I began my vacuming the living room carpet. Before I was halfway done the vacuum went dead. When I turned to check the plug, Mrs. Fairchild was holding it in her hand.
“Darling, look at what those shoes are doing to my carpet!” I was wearing a pair of sneakers, which slightly disturbed the pile of the thick carpet as I walked across it. She made me remove the footwear, and frowned dissaprrovingly at the rubber treads. “Don't you have any shoes with smooth leather bottoms dear? These will never do!” When I told her I did not, she left with my sneakers. I stood there akwardly in the apron and my stockinged feet, holding the wand of the vacuum. She returned, holding a pair of shiny black flats.
“Put these on.” She handed me the shoes, which smelled of leather and appeared brand new. I noticed that her spiked pumps left small indentations in the carpet and started to protest when she pushed me down on the sofa and snatched the shoes from my hand. “Really, you must learn to respond more quickly, I expect a 'yes maam' when I address you.” She slid the shoes onto my feet, and to my surprise they fit perfectly. Soon I was back at work. When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I started to feel a little queasy. With the frilly apron and shiny black flats I looked bizzare. But Mrs. Fairchild didn't give me a moment to rest, taking me from one task to the next, with me “yes maaming” and straining to keep up with her.
Finally it was dinner time. Cooking was not one my tasks, and after I remembered to ask the Landlady's permission to be seated (still in my apron and flats), she was placing a steaming plate in front of me. It was a beef liver, string beans and mashed potatoes. I never ate liver, but was afraid to say anything. When Mrs. Fairchild asked me why I was taking so long to eat, I confessed that I'd rather not eat the meat.
Without a word, Mrs. Fairchild moved her seat next to mine, and snatched the silverware out of my hands. She cut up the liver into bite size pieces, stabbed one with the fork and brought it to my lips. I opened my mouth to protest and she popped it in. I almost gagged. Before I could even start chewing a forkful of green beans was pressed against my mouth. I tried to keep my lips shut but Mrs. Fairchild effortlessly pushed the fork into my mouth. Now her right arm circled behing my back held me firmly while she continued to feed me with the left. I struggled to keep up with her pace, almost gagging on more than one occassion. Finally my plate was empty, and she had lifted a glass of milk to my lips and was pouring it in so fast some dribbled down my chin. She didn't stop until the glass was empty. Finally she was finished. She patted my face with a napkin.
“Mrs. Fairchild, I . . .” She placed a finger against my lips and cut me off.
“I always cook healthy nutritious food and I expect you to eat everything on your plate. If you can't do that by yourself, I will assist you. I can see that I'd better get you a sippy-cup since you seem to have trouble using a glass! Now run upstairs and get ready for your bath and bed.” She paused. “Did you hear me?!”
“Yes maam!” With that she gave my face a final pat and I was excused.
I felt like I was in a daze. Was I really sitting here in a frilly apron and feminine black flats, having just been fed my dinner like a child? Part of me wanted to run out of the house, but Mrs. Fairchild's looming perfumed presence, only inches away from me, was like a magnet keeping me close. I didn't want to admit it, but the tingling I felt all over, especially in my pants was too real to deny. As I slowly started to rise from my chair I felt a strong hand push me back down.
“Really dear, where did you learn your manners? You must ask permission to be excused from the table.” I looked over at the Landlady, her hand still
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