Friday, 25 March 2011

Atonement. Story and pictures from Doonstar

I have another missive from Doonstar along with images to go with it. It is most likely to appeal to those of you who appreciate the charms of an older woman, particularly knowing that J is clearly a very real person in Doonstar's life.

Anyway, here it is:-


“I think you’ve quite a lot to atone for over the last week,” I told J gravely. It’d been an unavoidable fortnight since my hand had made percussive contact with her shapely rear, perhaps partly why she’d been so scatty and contrary of late.

Her penance, I decided, would depend on how she presented for punishment – a thorough spanking would probably suffice, but I laid a slender cane prominently in the centre of the dining table to concentrate her mind just in case.
J’s sartorial ensemble was chic and charming as always, make up perfect, high heels shiny and, I’d no doubt, taughtly suspendered tan nylons beneath her knee length skirt. J has very good legs for any age, let alone a woman in middle years.

“And what,” I asked, “do you deserve for a week’s worth of misplaced mobile phone, car keys and goodness knows what else, plus constantly contradicting me?”
“A smacked bottom.” replied J, without hesitation and not in the least contritely, “bare,” she added brightly, in case I hadn’t got the message.
“Then we’d better have you over my knee on the sofa and make at least part of you comfortable,” I replied, “this is going to take some time.”

With no hint of reluctance J lifted her full skirt and lay meekly across my knee, her pale peach of a posterior beguilingly clad in semi-transparent panties that’d be a pleasure to pull down, but not just yet.

Despite uttering obligatory squeal J wriggled in pleasure as I commenced a long leisurely spanking, both of us enjoying the physical proximity OTK affords. “Keep still,” I growled theatrically while gripping her firmly around the waist, J adores being forced into compliance.
For 15 minutes every inch of J’s posterior received a very through hand spanking, interspersed with rubbing and, once her pants were pooled pleasingly around her knees, some intimate temperature testing. Eventually J‘s rump was suitably roasted, my hand stinging and a certain mature lady becoming damply aroused.

She had, J tentatively suggested, taken her "hard" (not true) and "long" (very true) spanking well (no argument). Her “poor smacked bottom” was now sore and likely to remain so for some time, so "surely" (and I defy anyone to resist her lascivious look) J was due the "usual reward"?

Indeed she was, but lest I surrender control over proceedings a little deferred gratification was in order. The customary conclusion to our punishment sessions would indeed be forthcoming (in every sense..) but first I required further contrition and obedience. J would fetch the cane from the table, present it to me and ask me to beat her for bad behaviour.

Her protests at my instruction were barley token and within seconds the bamboo was presented, the incorrigible minx admitting her usually “impeccable manners may have been slightly less than perfect of late.” Entirely of her own volition J then knelt on the sofa, dipped her head and shoulders in mute submission and thrust out her pink spanked tush for my attention.

Six strokes certainly made her wriggle and wail, but the second her caning was over, without even pausing to rub her crimson stripes, J was tugging her knickers off and parting her knees. “I’ve waited two weeks for this,” she breathed…

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