supplicium post mortem

—Bring him here.

—Let me go!

—Shan’t. You’re a horrid, dirty boy spying on us.

—He saw us the whole time.

—He saw our knickers!

—Let’s pluck out his eyes.

—Let’s feed him to the Germans.

—Quiet, all of you. He’s got to have a proper trial. Right then, you, what do you have to say for yourself?

—Cat got your tongue?

—Not so clever now, is he?

—Order! Nothing to say…? Then the court finds you guilty of espionage in the first degree. And public lewdness.

—I wasn’t lewd!

—Shut up. It’s time to discuss your punishment.

—Let’s tell his Headmaster. He’ll get the cane.

—Let’s tell his dad. He’ll get it unprotected.

—If we tell his mum, he’ll get the hairbrush first.

—Mum said he’d get the strap as well if there was any more nonsense.

—Traitor!

—Should’ve seen him last night in the air raid shelter.

—If you say one word—

—Ow, Mum, please! Mummy! And that was just the slipper.

—I’m going to kill you, I am.

—No you aren’t, boy. You’re going to listen to us. The court will consider a gesture of compassion.

—Well, what?

—Sulking isn’t done, you know.

—If you agree not harm the witness here, now or ever, and if you agree to accept the punishment of the court, we will keep this matter amongst ourselves.

—What’s the punishment of the court, then?

—Three from each of us, with this.

—But that makes…

—Don’t strain yourself calculating. It’s that or we tell your mum, your dad, and your Headmaster.

—That’s not fair!

—Your choice.

—You’re evil, you are.

—Insulting the court will get you nowhere.

—If I agree, then that’s an end to it? You won’t tell anyone else?

—Right.

—What about the boys?

—No-one.

—Well…

---

I probably owe some apologies to Hope and Glory or maybe Careful, He Might Hear You for this one.

Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Sweltering Celt. The theme this week via ButchtasticKyle was espionage.

I wrote this piece in response to a challenge that emerged on  Twitter yesterday: write a 250-word erotic story in 24 hours. Other takers were @naughtyabby and @spankinresource and @sabrinamorgan (no relation, ha ha). To keep it interesting, we each provided a wild card to try to include in the story. They were: willow green, hairbrush, & loose thread. So, mine didn’t turn out a story, exactly, but took its structure from the Facebook meme 25 Random Things About Me. I don’t know if it’s erotic at all, but here it is:

25 Things About Them

1. Her first erotic feeling: dream, age 3?, someone telling her, “Underpants off for a spanking.”
2. She mastered silent wanking in college, in dark, roommate asleep, or in youth hostel dorms.
3. He wanked with a friend in the swimming pool of their African prep-school.
4. He loved to touch her bottom while they lay in bed half-awake in the morning.
5. The-Hairbrush-That’s-Not-For-Kids was the only small implement that could quickly put him over the pain threshold.
6. His cock was large, lovely, and uncut.
7. His cock was the only one that’s ever been inside her.
8. Virginity lost on her mother’s bed, mother out of town, plastic billowing above where the ceiling was being repaired.
9. They wanked beside each other and whispered pervy stories.
10. He got hard at her vowels when she said “Planters peanuts.”
11. The willow switch he liked to use otk was reddish-brown, not willow-green.
12. He pulled the loose thread from the hem of her shorts, then took them down to spank her.
13. She thought she was unfanciable until she met him.
14. She kissed his eyelids.
15. She kissed his thigh.
16. She kissed his cock.
17. She kissed his hand.
18. She learned to kiss from him.
19. His tongue in her ear made her shiver.
20. He tucked his cock back and said he was a girl.
21. Boys getting the cane never failed to excite him.
22. Boys in the YMCA steam room admired his cock.
23. For her, sex was best when they were trying to have a baby.
24. She misses Pervy Hour.
25. Sometimes, now, orgasm triggers sobbing.

TGI has always meant something else to me. It’s a term that developed early in my correspondence with M, short for “the topic of greatest interest”. It became an all-purpose noun. (Now the tgi category maybe makes more sense to you.) So here, on this Friday, let us talk of tgi.

What is my tgi? Broadly speaking, an interest in corporal punishment, so tgi can be synonymous with whacking. Thus its verb form, used in the negative: de-tgi. As in, de-tgi the apartment – my dad is coming to stay! (i.e. put all implements well out of sight).

So what kind of tgi do I like, mainly?

• domestic cp of a semi-con nature [by semi-con I mean that the recipient doesn't like it, but basically accepts it]
• English school cp (semi-con)
• enemas

I could get very tedious laying out what appeals to me in what contexts, suffice to say that things I’m interested in doing RL (or have done) are only a subset of things that appeal to me in fantasy or in well-written stories. There are lots of things that turn me FW that I would never want to do RL. [If I'm abbreviating too much, try the glossary page.]

It is massively distressing to admit this, but here it is: I can’t clearly remember the last whacking I gave or the last I got. The last I got was in RP’s study, across his knee on the couch, unprotected, hand spanking, which was usual. I don’t exactly remember when it was (other than between New Year’s 07/08 and May 08) or what it was for. There had been a dry spell. We were both wrapped up in work and miscellanea. MISTAKE. As for the last I gave, I’m even less clear. I’m guessing it was an on-the-fly application of the “persuader” or the slipper, given in the kitchen around dinner time to encourage better attitude. Or it might have been otk (him naked) in bed during a commercial break with THBTNFK (the hairbrush that’s not for kids). [pictures another day, kids.] I hate myself that I can’t remember. I really don’t remember the last time Casey got That Thing [enema], except I think the bulb finally was breaking and leaking a lot. We hadn’t got another one yet, but the prospect of going together to the surgical supply store nearby and getting another bulb was both mortifying and a little exciting. Who knew what RP would have said to the man? We’ll never find out.

I was trying to write something fun that would cheer everyone up. FAIL!!

Ok, well, this isn’t strictly tgi, but it made me laff lots, from the Fail Blog: