"Take your clothes off, Eve," he says, as he pushes me away, "but leave your panties on." He sits down and watches me.

I strip my clothes off slowly, deliberately, blushing under his gaze. As I remove my bra, my nipples harden even more in the coolish air. I meet his stare as I disrobe, hoping he won't order me to avert my eyes. Seeing his eyes looking at me, I feel more naked.

"Come here."

"Yes, Sir."

"Over my knee."

I kneel on the couch next to him and stretch myself across his lap. The first smack comes before I'm settled, startling me. Several more come in quick succession and I breathe in sharply, uncharacteristically squirming a bit...

This is one of my favourites and it has been with me for a long time. The setting for this particular fantasy is the grand living room or, perhaps, the library of a mansion somewhere. There are oaken shelves and cupboards and Persian rugs on the floor. There is a grand fireplace where a great, welcoming, fire is burning. There are sofas and armchairs and in general it is an imposing but at the same time welcoming room.

The room is populated by a lot of people, all smartly dressed; men in suits or maybe even black ties and elegantly dressed women. They are having tea or maybe some of them are drinking port. They are enjoying themselves and are awaiting the entertainment that is to come.

In one of the armchairs, in the middle of the group, sits a man with a grey suit. He is a very special man. It is his mansion and he is also my master. He is the man I belong to, the man I have to obey.

I enter this setting on trembling legs scared of what is about to happen. I am dressed in a white shirt or possible a tight fitting, maybe striped top. I wear a very short and wide black skirt, no stockings and heelless black shoes, like ballerina shoes. I am not as elegant as the others. I look girlish in comparison. I am different from all of them. I am the entertainment.

Everyone knows why I am there and they stop talking as I enter. They are eagerly watching the scene unfold. I am the entertainment and they want to be entertained....

Luraido Mall, in South-western Japan, has come under fire from anti-corporal punishment watchdog group, Save our Bottoms (SOB) for its practice of paddling shoplifting suspects. SOB spokesperson, Haroiko Katsuma said Monday: "People are being made to bend over for six licks with paddles. It's appalling. Most victims have no idea what they've done wrong."

But mall tenants vigorously defend the new policy, and point to dramatic decreases in petty crimes ranging from shoplifting to vandalism. Says Maiko Yarido, manager of Nippon Gifts, "We've sent a loud, clear message to criminals. If you want to steal, you'd better have buns of steel."

Earlier today, still in my robe, I was writing at the computer when you walked in and commanded me to climb up on the chair on my knees and stick my ass out to you. You announced that you were going to spank me right then and there - because it's what you wanted.

As I quickly obeyed and clambered up on the chair, I vaguely realized that there was something else, something new in your voice... But as I positioned myself and my pussy began its delicious softening and opening, that warning thought faded to the back of my mind.

You flipped the back of my robe up over my ass and said, "spread your legs." I did, and then bowed my head to let my forehead rest on my hands where I had clasped them on the high back of the chair. "Stick it out further," you said... I did. "Further," you growled, "arch your back." I did. Again, I registered that the tone in your voice was new. But it was also profoundly sure of itself. So sure, that I instantly relaxed into your control and sighed in anticipation of the rush I knew was coming. ...

The story begins last Saturday. My Prince Charming was motivated to pursue what appeared to be a minor home improvement project. I inquired about his purpose, but an evil grin was the only response I received.

Randy took his trusty tool box and set up shop in our previously clean bedroom. From downstairs, I heard all of the usual drilling, hammering, and cursing, but still had no clue what was afoot. Finally, after about twenty minutes, Randy called me to see his creation. When I looked, I was astonished. The plaster dust on the bedspread was no great surprise, but then I spotted a large metal hook emerging from the ceiling immediately above the center of our bed.

For a moment, I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. My first thought dealt with erotic torture. Done right, I could probably embrace that concept. My second thought, spoken aloud as it entered my consciousness was “What will our friends and family think?” Randy’s suggested rationalization was that it was for a planter.

“Randy, have you ever seen anyone hang a planter directly above a bed?”

“Well, no. But I don’t pay much attention to that decorating stuff.”

I couldn’t decide whether to be thrilled or exasperated. Either way, we now have a big old hook in our ceiling.

Last night, we finally found both the time and the energy to test this new labor saving device. Randy instructed me to strip and lie face down on the bed. I compiled. He gently lifted my head and placed a scarf over my eyes. He tied it behind my head, effectively cutting me off from the world of illumination.

For the next several minutes, I heard drawers opening and closing. I heard Randy go downstairs at least once to retrieve something. I could feel various items being tossed onto the bed beside me. When I tried to feel for them, I was informed that I must stay in place.

So there I was, naked and blindfolded on the bed. Awaiting my fate. A little intrigued. A little bored. A little nervous. A little cold. But very unsure of what would happen next....

The perfect spanking begins in the morning, perhaps over espresso, when my beloved says, "I think I'll spank you tonight." Or, maybe he says, "You are in sooo much trouble! Just wait until tonight!" or maybe, "Need a little play time tonight, Hmm?"

Or maybe he says, "I'm going to take you six ways to Sunday; you're going to be so sore you’ll barely be able to walk, and there's nothing you can do about it!"...

Either way, the tingly rush of anticipation begins; the one that actually starts in my bottom, then crawls up my spine to my scalp and makes me feel like the hairs on my head are standing up. I blush a little, wanting to ask for details. But he won't give me any – I know this from experience, so I won't ask.