The True Story of Buntyjane
This is the true story of an adult 12 year old. The lady in question has my great respect and gratitude for sharing these personal recollections with us. Readers are advised that this account contains Adult/girl age-play, spanking, paddle, slipper, cane, oral and anal intercourse.
Someone received an email from me once that contained some of the text to be found below. He liked it and suggested I should turn it into a little story. So I have, and I have added a few "pixies" to help you along. Everything you read below either happened or something pretty near to it happened.
We lived in a small village just north of a line of the South Downs in Southern England. The village has two Public Houses, one rather small General Provisions shop and a rather ordinary church that was probably quite nice until the Victorians rebuilt it. There is no school, no trading estate, certainly no manufacturing of any kind, unless you count the man who makes trugs in his garage and sells them from his front garden. The Tour de France went through here once but really that is about all that has touched us since they last lit the beacon whilst practising for the expected invasion of the Spanish Armada.
It is how my husband, "Sir", liked things to be, so that is why I am here and shall probably stay here for a long time to come.
"Sir" was older than me by quite a bit, 15 years, though it made no difference to us in any way. He used to work for my father who, strangely, was only 5 or 6 years older than him.
I was only 2 or 3 when my father came across him as a young police recruit. Dad liked him and as he progressed through the ranks he took "Sir" along with him, so we all knew him growing up. "Sir" was around the house a lot up to the time I was 10 or 11, then we had to move to London. Dad became a "Senior Officer" and was not allowed to stay in a Division in which he was so well known (or something like that, it's a while ago and I was just a little girl). So we did not see "Sir" for ages, and then he was transferred up to London too. I think my dad had a lot to do with it. when we met again I thought he was lovely and he knew all about me.
When they met my parents were serving police officers. When we were growing up my father had a very senior rank and the attitude towards "crime" to match it. We were all smacked on our legs from an early age, I have a brother and two sisters. As we grew older this turned into smacks on our bottoms and after about 9 or maybe 10 he started to use the stick on us.
Because of my fathers work we did not see so much of him but it was still him who smacked us, sometimes we would wait days and days to see him, knowing that when he was finally at home at a time we were still up, we would be punished.
My mum says that I was 11 when she first noticed I used to get more excited than I should have when my father punished me with the stick, but that she could not believe she was right (she now knows that she was by the way). She says that she noticed it seriously when I was a bit older and that is why dad gave up physically holding me over his lap when I was punished, and started to have me lay on my bed so he could use the slipper and more usually the cane on me.
My brother was caned at school and at home. My sisters never had the reaction to being smacked that I had, and so continued to be put over my dads knees for the stick or have the backs of their legs slapped until they were quite old.
As I have said my dad used the stick so being naughty meant time spent with him. After a punishment we were always cuddled until we stopped crying, I liked to be cuddled so I cried a lot. After we had stopped crying we were expected to say how sorry we were.
Then we were either sent straight to bed or we had to stand in the corner of the dining room in just our tops, knickers and socks. If we had been really naughty we weren't allowed knickers and sometimes even having to hold the stick which had been used on us, behind our backs, again "pour encourage les autres".
My hormones started to "happen" when I was very young (its not that unusual) and I suppose my sexuality sort of got side tracked. Still I am very happy as I am and see my parents and sisters all the time and love them all dearly (especially now mum and dad have mellowed a bit)
"Sir" knew all this because he was around the house so much. Once (much later after we were married) he told me how my dad had laughed because he had seen me have a little girlie climax as I was getting my bum smacked. He knew how odd I was, how I had never been allowed to have a boyfriend and so he understood me.
I was at University but still living at home (my father would not allow me to live in the Halls of Residence), my dad was keen so we sort of drifted together. Eventually we had one of those horrid "Job Weddings", still, apart from the horror of that days' "crossed truncheons" I am very glad we did.
I suppose that really the die was caste that very first night "Sir" and I were on Honeymoon. I was very definitely a virgin, my father's ideals had been so stringently instilled into me that I had hardly let "Sir" go further than kissing me during our engagement for fear of him finding out.
"Sir" had used the bathroom and changed into his pyjamas and got into the huge bed that the hotel had given us. I sort of knew what was expected of me but did not know how to start. Nervously I took off the skirt and top, I had changed into after the reception, and my tights but then I got all coy and nervous, suddenly aware that this was the first time any man except for my father and brother had seen me undressed since school.
I had on what I thought was a very feminine and pretty white vest. I had then, and have now, no bust to speak of, and my mother had told me not to bother about bra's because I did not need them.
Together with the vest I wore, again I thought a very feminine pair of waist high pink briefs. As I saw "Sir" looking at me I realized that this was the same type of underwear I had been wearing all my life, well, once I was out of nappies anyway. Instinctively I clasped my hands in front of me and bowed my head. Of course "Sir" was wonderful and understood immediately that he had to take control of the situation. He quietly told me to get into the bed and join him. I remember most distinctly that I wanted so much to do that, probably more than I had ever wanted to do something in my life, but I could not, something would just not let me move.
"Sir" got out of bed - I would find out in later years that he was not, and I am not being unkind here, the "biggest" man - but since this was the first time I had ever seen an erection I did not know that, and like all women I wondered how on earth he was going to fit it into me. Anyway, he stood to my left side gently kissed me and stroked my hair and once again quietly asked me to get into the bed with him. I was frozen, it was like a dream crossed with a farce. He was standing there erect and naked and I in my underclothes, staring at his erection, wanting to move but unable to actually do it.
Suddenly there was a loud crack of flesh upon flesh as he smacked the back of my left leg quite hard, "Get undressed and get into that bed" he told me sharply. I obeyed instantly, vest and briefs off and across to the bed in a flash. I will not go into the other details of that night, or indeed that honeymoon, but suffice it to say that by the end of it we understood each other more than we had ever done before. His knowledge of my upbringing and my overt acknowledgement that I performed on pretty much all levels a great deal better when living within a strict set of rules soon led "Sir" to get me "under control".
Over the years this "control" developed into a "Rule Book" by which we, well certainly I was guided at all practical times, it was quite big and covered most aspects of the behaviour which was expected of me.
These are the Section Headings to give you an idea of how detailed we made it.
|Buntyjane's House Rules:|
|The Event Diary|
|Additional General Behaviour Rules|
|Wearing of Punishment Knickers|
|Special Rules Applying to Periods of Penance|
|Stages in a Penance|
|Application of Corporal Punishment|
|List of Penance|
Just to give you a better concept of it here is the "Dress Rules - Underwear" section.
|Dress Rules - Underwear|
|1.||When in the house Buntyjane is expected to wear a Vest and Navy Blue school knickers.||5 Black Marks|
|2.||Excepting during her period, the wearing of adult knickers in the house is absolutely forbidden.||5 Black Marks|
|3.||If expecting visitors Buntyjane may wear a bra but she must wear Bottle Green school knickers with it||3 Black Marks|
|4.||Buntyjane may ask permission to leave off her vest but she must not do so without permission.||2 Black Marks|
|5.||Buntyjane must change out of her bra and panties immediately she enters the house (immediately means at once, before she does anything else).||2 Black Marks|
|6.||Buntyjane must change out of her bra and Bottle Green school knickers immediately her visitors leave.||2 Black Marks|
|7.||Buntyjane may be inspected at any time, in any way or place, and must not fail an inspection in even the slightest detail.||5 Black Marks|
We did not have "supposed offences". We had rules and if I disobeyed them I earned Black Marks, or, if I was especially good, Gold Stars. At the end of the week (usually Sunday evenings after we had got rid of the girls, or they had gone out when they were older) I went through a ritual penance if it was required.
I loved those penance sessions. I would go to the bedroom and my husband would have laid out what I was going to have to wear on the bed. Usually this would be a "uniform" of some kind, if I had not been very naughty (i.e.. not many Black Marks) it would just be a white vest, white knee socks and one of the pairs of special punishment knickers, but more usually it was some combination of school uniform.
He liked to ring the changes but if it was school uniform then it would nearly always be with one of my short gym skirts with either matching green or maroon school knickers or white ones. He liked me to see me bent over the back of the armchair, my little gym skirt ridden up showing of the "smile" of my white school knickers contrasting with the colour of the skirt.
But, I am getting ahead of the scene, I was in the bedroom wasn't I.
I would change out of my day clothes, sometimes I would leave the vest I was wearing on, I wasn't really allowed to though it was supposed to be all "clean". Once changed I would go to the door of the rear lounge, knock on it and wait to be told to "come in".
This was really exciting for me, the hall area connects the two parts of the house and there is a "loo" off of it. It was entirely possible that one of the girls could have unexpectedly come through and seen me. Sometimes, if he kept me waiting for a while, I got so excited I had to use the loo myself !
Once allowed to enter the lounge, I had to give him the Punishment Book, in which I had written all the things I had got Black Marks or Gold Stars for that week. Then I had to stand with my back to the corner by the door, hands behind my back looking down at the floor. I had to be careful to behave as expected during a penance because if I did not I just got extra smacks with the leather paddle at the end (and on the end too!!).
He would quietly, but very firmly, tell me what I had done wrong, how I could improve my behaviour and what punishment I had earned. There were stipulated punishments in the rule book, he could not just make them up, but he could add "extras" and he often did.
Once I had been thoroughly put in my place (and it was not unusual for me to be a bit tearful already) the actual penance began. So I turned (when told) to face into the corner and put my hands on the top of my head, legs together, back straight and no wriggling. Sometimes I was just left standing in disgrace, but at others he would tell me to assume different positions or recite a line.
A usual position would be for me to bend over with my hands on my knees. A usual line for me to repeat would be something like "I must be obedient" or "Please sir, please smack my bottom". He might decide that he wanted me to partly undress whilst I was still in the corner. Quite often he would have me take my skirt off and sometimes my tie and blouse, but he usually allowed me to keep my school knickers and vest and socks on.
After the stipulated time in the corner I would hear the armchair being turned around and moved into position so that it's back faced into the room. My back would be aching by now, but I would feel the excitement building inside of me in anticipation of what was to come (sorry bad choice of word).
He would tell me to take my hands down, turn around and take myself across to face the back of the armchair. Once there I may have to stand with my hands on my head again or I may not. Whatever, eventually I would be told to bend over.
If I was not too excited I would slowly put a cushion under my tummy and then drape myself over the back of the armchair so that I gave him the pleasure of gently revealing my knickers to him (he liked it if I did that) but mostly I was so excited that I just grabbed the cushion and plonked myself over.
I would sense him close behind me, and then be aware of the colder air crossing the tops of my thighs as he lifted my skirt, if I still had it on, out of his way. His hand would run all over my bottom. I would usually get a pat at this point because he liked to just very gently stroke the material that covered me between my legs and I seemed never to have them wide enough apart for him. He used to say he could tell how excited I was from the feel of me. Most of the time he need not have bothered as my clitoris was practically throbbing it's way through the material and my vagina lubricating uncontrollably by the time he had got me to this stage.
He would stand away from me, and the next thing I would feel whatever implement the rules stated was to be used on me, resting on my buttocks. Sometimes he would run the implement between my legs, but only if I had not been too naughty. I had a bit of a habit of reaching orgasm if he did it, so if I had been quite naughty he would not want to give me that pleasure.
Here is a list of the penances so you can see what would be used on me.
|1-5 Black Marks||15 minutes standing in the corner with hands on head dressing in vest, white socks and punishment knickers.|
|6-10 Black Marks||20 minutes standing in the corner doing as instructed dressed in vest, white socks and punishment knickers.|
|11-15 Black Marks||20 minutes standing in the corner in school uniform doing as instructed plus 12 smacks with the paddle.|
|16-20 Black Marks||20 minutes standing in the corner in school uniform doing as instructed plus 24 smacks with the paddle|
|21-25 Black Marks||20 minutes standing in the corner in school uniform doing as instructed plus 12 smacks with the slipper.|
|26-30 Black Marks||20 minutes standing in the corner in school uniform doing as instructed plus 24 smacks with the slipper.|
|31-35 Black Marks||20 minutes standing in the corner in school uniform doing as instructed plus 12 smacks with the strap.|
|Above 35 Black Marks||20 minutes standing in the corner in school uniform doing as instructed plus 24 smacks with the strap.|
Now he would start to smack my bottom.
As he did so, after each smack I was expected to say "One sir, Thank you sir" etc, if I did not or he could not hear me I would get extra smacks with the leather paddle after the main smacking was completed.
I used to say "Thank you sir" to him quite often, and every time I meant it.
He used to smack me fairly hard depending upon how naughty I had been. The paddle would make a lot of noise and make my bum go red but it was only minor punishment and to be honest some of the spankings he gave me out of frustration during the week - just quickly over his knee skirt up smack.., smack.. smack - hurt more than the paddle. It makes a lovely noise as it smacks though.
The slipper was lovely, it was (still is, I'm looking at it now) a size 12 white lace up plimsoll. A really old fashioned affair. You know how you used to wear white short and white shoes for gym? Well it is one of those. It used to make my bottom ache and leave a bruise over quite a wide area so I could feel it through until the Monday or Tuesday evening. I nearly always cried and reached orgasm when he was smacking me with one of these.
The strap was the most serious implement he used during regular punishment sessions, I was caned but only very infrequently. I am really scared of getting the cane so it works as a wonderful deterrent for me. Mind you after I have been caned is something else. The strap is just that, he used to whack my bottom hard with it, it hurt me, sometimes whipped around and left a mark on the side of my thigh, always had me reduced to tears by the fourth or fifth one, had me sobbing and a really sorry little girl by the end and always produced at least one crushing orgasm. Once when I had to be given the full 24 whacks I had two, though he said three, but it was only two.
After he had finished smacking me, he would stand back from me, he would take the paddle or slipper or tawse back into the dressing room were they lived. He would come back to me and I would wait expectantly for him. Not always but generally if I was actually crying (which was mostly the case) I would feel my school knickers going down my legs. I would hear the soft sound of material crumpling as he lowered his trousers and underpants and then feel the coolness of his thighs on my warm little bottom.
To be honest, quite often all I would finish up with was a sticky bottom as it became too much for him. If I was a lucky girl and he was not too over excited himself, I would feel that lovely tight, forceful, painful feeling as he pushed himself up me (Yes, up not in). I would squeal and earn a smack on the leg in case the girls could hear me but after the initial agony of his entry I would push myself backward onto him squeezing my buttocks together. He liked that because he was not all that big and it made it "tight" for him.
I used to wiggle my little bottom quickly for him so that he came into me, because if I did not, I would finish up kneeling in front of him with my hands on my head and my mouth open. So I could "finish him off" as he put it and that part I did not like.
Punishment over he would send me for my bath and the slate would be wiped clean, ready for me to start the next week.
I would like to have written more for you all but Saxon will get cross with me if I use up too much of his web site. If you liked it, tell him, and I will try to put some more memories down for you.
Bye for now and *LOL*
Since writing this tale for me, Bunty has come under the guidance of a new partner and is understandably dropping out of the scene. She took the trouble to compose the beautiful message below:
I, for one, wish her all the very best for the future.