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OT: Walmart receipt tells what's to cum (1 reply)
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OT: Wakeup call on Facebook privacy... (2 replies)
Girls Around Me iphone app:
"Girls Around Me is a standard geolocation based maps app, similar to any other app that attempts to alert you to things of interest in your immediate vicinity: whether it be parties, clubs, deals, or what have you. When you load it up, the first thing Girls Around Me does is figure out where you are and load up a Google Map centered around your location. The rest of the interface is very simple: in the top left corner, there’s a button that looks like a radar display, at the right corner, there’s a fuel meter (used to fund the app’s freemium model), and on the bottom left is a button that allows you to specify between whether you’re interested in women, men or both.
It’s when you push the radar button that Girls Around Me does what it says on the tin. I pressed the button for my friends. Immediately, Girls Around Me went into radar mode, and after just a few seconds, the map around us was filled with pictures of girls who were in the neighborhood. Since I was showing off the app on a Saturday night, there were dozens of girls out on the town in our local area.
“Wait… what? Are these girls prostitutes?” one of my friends asked, which given the Matrix-like silhouettes posing on the splash screen was a pretty good question.
“Oh, no,” I replied. “These are just regular girls. See this girl? Her name’s Zoe. She lives on the same street as me and Brittany. She works at a coffee shop, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t moonlight picking up tricks.”
“How does it know where these girls are? Do you know all these girls? Is it plucking data from your address book or something?” another friend asked.
“Not at all. These are all girls with publicly visible Facebook profiles who have checked into these locations recently using Foursquare. Girls Around Me then shows you a map where all the girls in your area trackable by Foursquare area. If there’s more than one girl at a location, you see the number of girls there in a red bubble. Click on that, and you can see pictures of all the girls who are at that location at any given time. The pictures you are seeing are their social network profile pictures.”
“Okay, so they know that their data can be used like this for anyone to see? They’re okay with it? ”
“Probably not, actually. The settings determining how visible your Facebook and Foursquare data is are complicated, and tend to be meaningless to people who don’t really understand issues about privacy,” I explained. “Most privacy settings on social networks default to share everything with everyone, and since most people never change those… well, they end up getting sucked up into apps like this.”
“But they know they’ve checked in, right?”
“Again, not necessarily. Foursquare lets you check other people into a location. If you get checked into Foursquare by a friend without your knowledge and have a publicly visible Facebook profile, you could end up in here.” (Update: Apparently, I wasn’t correct about this. Foursquare does NOT allow you to check other people in with you without their knowledge; I was confusing Foursquare for Facebook, which does offer this functionality. Thanks for the correction, unknown8bit! – JRB)
One of my less computer-affable friends actually went pale, and kept on shooting her boyfriend looks for assurance. A Linux aficionado who was the only person in our group without a Facebook account (and one of the few people I’d ever met who actually endorsed Diaspora), the look he returned was one of comical smugness.
“But wait! It gets worse!” I said, ramping things up.
“So let’s say I’m a bro, looking to go out for a night on the town and pick someone up. Let’s say I’m going to the Independent around the corner, and checking it out ahead of time, I really like the look of this girl Zoe — she looks like a girl I might want to try to get with tonight — so I tap her picture for more information, see what I can find out about here.”
I tapped on Zoe. Girls Around Me quickly loaded up a fullscreen render of her Facebook profile picture. The app then told me where Zoe had last been seen (The Independent) and when (15 minutes ago). A big green button at the bottom reading “Photos & Messaging” just begged to be tapped, and when I did, I was whisked away to Zoe’s Facebook profile.
“Okay, so here’s Zoe. Most of her information is visible, so I now know her full name. I can see at a glance that she’s single, that she is 24, that she went to Stoneham High School and Bunker Hill Community College, that she likes to travel, that her favorite book is Gone With The Wind and her favorite musician is Tori Amos, and that she’s a liberal. I can see the names of her family and friends. I can see her birthday.”
“All of that is visible on Facebook?” one of the other girls in our group asked.
“More, depending on how your privacy settings are configured! For example, I can also look at Zoe’s pictures.”
I tapped on the photo album, and a collection of hundreds of publicly visible photos loaded up. I quickly browsed them.
“Okay, so it looks like Zoe is my kind of girl. From her photo albums, I can see that she likes to party, and given the number of guys she takes photos with at bars and clubs at night, I can deduce that she’s frisky when she’s drunk, and her favorite drink is a frosty margarita. She appears to have recently been in Rome. Also, since her photo album contains pictures she took at the beach, I now know what Zoe looks like in a bikini… which, as it happens, is pretty damn good.”
My girlfriend scowled at me. I assured her Zoe in a bikini was no comparison, and moved on.
“So now I know everything to know about Zoe. I know where she is. I know what she looks like, both clothed and mostly disrobed. I know her full name, her parents’ full names, her brother’s full name. I know what she likes to drink. I know where she went to school. I know what she likes and dislikes. All I need to do now is go down to the Independent, ask her if she remembers me from Stoneham High, ask her how her brother Mike is doing, buy her a frosty margarita, and start waxing eloquently about that beautiful summer I spent in Roma.”
Throughout this demonstration, my group of friends had been split pretty evenly along gender lines in their reactions. Across the board, the men either looked amused or (in the case of my beardo Diaspora friend) philosophically pleased with themselves about their existing opinions about social networking. The women, on the other hand, looked sick and horrified.
It was at this point, though, that the tendrils of the girls’ unease — their deeply empathic sense of someone being unsafe — seemed to creep through the entire group.
“And if that doesn’t work on Zoe,” I concluded, consulting the app one last time. “There are — let’s see — nine other girls at the Independent tonight.”
Often times, a writer uses tricks and exaggerations to convey to a reader the spirit — if not the precise truth — of what occurred. I just want to make clear that when I say that one of my friends was actually on the verge of tears, you understand that this is not such a trick. She was horrified to the point of crying.
“How can Apple let people download an app like this?” she asked. “And have you written about this?”
In answer to the first question, I replied that as sleazy as this app seemed, Girls Around Me wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. Sure, on the surface, it looks like a hook-up app like Grindr for potential stalkers and date rapists, but all that Girls Around Me is really doing is using public APIs from Google Maps, Facebook and Foursquare and mashing them all up together, so you could see who had checked-in at locations in your area, and learn more about them. Moreover, the girls (and men!) shown in Girls Around Me all had the power to opt out of this information being visible to strangers, but whether out of ignorance, apathy or laziness, they had all neglected to do so. This was all public information. Nothing Girls Around Me does violates any of Apple’s policies.
In fact, Girls Around Me wasn’t even the real problem...."
Read it all on Cult of Mac.
"Girls Around Me is a standard geolocation based maps app, similar to any other app that attempts to alert you to things of interest in your immediate vicinity: whether it be parties, clubs, deals, or what have you. When you load it up, the first thing Girls Around Me does is figure out where you are and load up a Google Map centered around your location. The rest of the interface is very simple: in the top left corner, there’s a button that looks like a radar display, at the right corner, there’s a fuel meter (used to fund the app’s freemium model), and on the bottom left is a button that allows you to specify between whether you’re interested in women, men or both.
It’s when you push the radar button that Girls Around Me does what it says on the tin. I pressed the button for my friends. Immediately, Girls Around Me went into radar mode, and after just a few seconds, the map around us was filled with pictures of girls who were in the neighborhood. Since I was showing off the app on a Saturday night, there were dozens of girls out on the town in our local area.
“Wait… what? Are these girls prostitutes?” one of my friends asked, which given the Matrix-like silhouettes posing on the splash screen was a pretty good question.
“Oh, no,” I replied. “These are just regular girls. See this girl? Her name’s Zoe. She lives on the same street as me and Brittany. She works at a coffee shop, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t moonlight picking up tricks.”
“How does it know where these girls are? Do you know all these girls? Is it plucking data from your address book or something?” another friend asked.
“Not at all. These are all girls with publicly visible Facebook profiles who have checked into these locations recently using Foursquare. Girls Around Me then shows you a map where all the girls in your area trackable by Foursquare area. If there’s more than one girl at a location, you see the number of girls there in a red bubble. Click on that, and you can see pictures of all the girls who are at that location at any given time. The pictures you are seeing are their social network profile pictures.”
“Okay, so they know that their data can be used like this for anyone to see? They’re okay with it? ”
“Probably not, actually. The settings determining how visible your Facebook and Foursquare data is are complicated, and tend to be meaningless to people who don’t really understand issues about privacy,” I explained. “Most privacy settings on social networks default to share everything with everyone, and since most people never change those… well, they end up getting sucked up into apps like this.”
“But they know they’ve checked in, right?”
“Again, not necessarily. Foursquare lets you check other people into a location. If you get checked into Foursquare by a friend without your knowledge and have a publicly visible Facebook profile, you could end up in here.” (Update: Apparently, I wasn’t correct about this. Foursquare does NOT allow you to check other people in with you without their knowledge; I was confusing Foursquare for Facebook, which does offer this functionality. Thanks for the correction, unknown8bit! – JRB)
One of my less computer-affable friends actually went pale, and kept on shooting her boyfriend looks for assurance. A Linux aficionado who was the only person in our group without a Facebook account (and one of the few people I’d ever met who actually endorsed Diaspora), the look he returned was one of comical smugness.
“But wait! It gets worse!” I said, ramping things up.
“So let’s say I’m a bro, looking to go out for a night on the town and pick someone up. Let’s say I’m going to the Independent around the corner, and checking it out ahead of time, I really like the look of this girl Zoe — she looks like a girl I might want to try to get with tonight — so I tap her picture for more information, see what I can find out about here.”
I tapped on Zoe. Girls Around Me quickly loaded up a fullscreen render of her Facebook profile picture. The app then told me where Zoe had last been seen (The Independent) and when (15 minutes ago). A big green button at the bottom reading “Photos & Messaging” just begged to be tapped, and when I did, I was whisked away to Zoe’s Facebook profile.
“Okay, so here’s Zoe. Most of her information is visible, so I now know her full name. I can see at a glance that she’s single, that she is 24, that she went to Stoneham High School and Bunker Hill Community College, that she likes to travel, that her favorite book is Gone With The Wind and her favorite musician is Tori Amos, and that she’s a liberal. I can see the names of her family and friends. I can see her birthday.”
“All of that is visible on Facebook?” one of the other girls in our group asked.
“More, depending on how your privacy settings are configured! For example, I can also look at Zoe’s pictures.”
I tapped on the photo album, and a collection of hundreds of publicly visible photos loaded up. I quickly browsed them.
“Okay, so it looks like Zoe is my kind of girl. From her photo albums, I can see that she likes to party, and given the number of guys she takes photos with at bars and clubs at night, I can deduce that she’s frisky when she’s drunk, and her favorite drink is a frosty margarita. She appears to have recently been in Rome. Also, since her photo album contains pictures she took at the beach, I now know what Zoe looks like in a bikini… which, as it happens, is pretty damn good.”
My girlfriend scowled at me. I assured her Zoe in a bikini was no comparison, and moved on.
“So now I know everything to know about Zoe. I know where she is. I know what she looks like, both clothed and mostly disrobed. I know her full name, her parents’ full names, her brother’s full name. I know what she likes to drink. I know where she went to school. I know what she likes and dislikes. All I need to do now is go down to the Independent, ask her if she remembers me from Stoneham High, ask her how her brother Mike is doing, buy her a frosty margarita, and start waxing eloquently about that beautiful summer I spent in Roma.”
Throughout this demonstration, my group of friends had been split pretty evenly along gender lines in their reactions. Across the board, the men either looked amused or (in the case of my beardo Diaspora friend) philosophically pleased with themselves about their existing opinions about social networking. The women, on the other hand, looked sick and horrified.
It was at this point, though, that the tendrils of the girls’ unease — their deeply empathic sense of someone being unsafe — seemed to creep through the entire group.
“And if that doesn’t work on Zoe,” I concluded, consulting the app one last time. “There are — let’s see — nine other girls at the Independent tonight.”
Often times, a writer uses tricks and exaggerations to convey to a reader the spirit — if not the precise truth — of what occurred. I just want to make clear that when I say that one of my friends was actually on the verge of tears, you understand that this is not such a trick. She was horrified to the point of crying.
“How can Apple let people download an app like this?” she asked. “And have you written about this?”
In answer to the first question, I replied that as sleazy as this app seemed, Girls Around Me wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. Sure, on the surface, it looks like a hook-up app like Grindr for potential stalkers and date rapists, but all that Girls Around Me is really doing is using public APIs from Google Maps, Facebook and Foursquare and mashing them all up together, so you could see who had checked-in at locations in your area, and learn more about them. Moreover, the girls (and men!) shown in Girls Around Me all had the power to opt out of this information being visible to strangers, but whether out of ignorance, apathy or laziness, they had all neglected to do so. This was all public information. Nothing Girls Around Me does violates any of Apple’s policies.
In fact, Girls Around Me wasn’t even the real problem...."
Read it all on Cult of Mac.
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OT: Cosplay costumes from the 70s (NSFW) (no replies)
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OT: Song: "Nobody's Dirty Business" (1 reply)
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OT: Photographer Helmut Newton interview (no replies)
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OT: Sexual humiliation to control the masses (no replies)
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OT: Edgy condom ad video clips (1 reply)
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OT: On the "candy cult" of Peeps... (2 replies)
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DELETED (no replies)
Deleted
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Who is the owner of Red Bull Racing? (2 replies)
I don't normally follow F1 much, and I'm having trouble figuring out who the owner of the team is. Could someone tell me who the team owner, or at least the majority owner of the team is?
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Shanghai spanking? (1 reply)
Hi
T
T
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JadedHarlot.com (no replies)
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SPOILER ALERT "The Slap" (no replies)
This is a new TV series on American broadcast TV. I warched the first episode this past Thursday night, and it indeed featured the slap in the title. The show dialog was very interesting to me, as a spanko.
Of course, this is diametrically opposite "Fifty Shades of Grey". It's not about spanking per se - it's about a slap to the face as corporal punishment of a child. Like it or not, this will bring up the topic of spanking so fast, it'll make all our heads spin. We all should be aware of this.
I'm not up on the subject of face slapping, but I gather it is considered to be potentially very harmful, even more so than spanking. I suppose I don't have to say this, but please be careful about drawing parallels between face slapping and spanking.
Of course, this is diametrically opposite "Fifty Shades of Grey". It's not about spanking per se - it's about a slap to the face as corporal punishment of a child. Like it or not, this will bring up the topic of spanking so fast, it'll make all our heads spin. We all should be aware of this.
I'm not up on the subject of face slapping, but I gather it is considered to be potentially very harmful, even more so than spanking. I suppose I don't have to say this, but please be careful about drawing parallels between face slapping and spanking.
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Spanking in Hentai (no replies)
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Humiliation in Wrestling (Also restraint) (6 replies)
Aside from spanking in wrestling I also enjoy humiliation, particularly faces humiliating or restraining heels.
Examples:
Victoria shaving Molly Holly's head at Wrestlemania 20 as she was strapped to a barber chair.
Maria vs. Santino. A group of divas interfered and held him down.
Mickie James "caking" Michelle McCool and Layla at the Royal Rumble as other divas held them back.
Anyone know of any other moments like this in wrestling?
Examples:
Victoria shaving Molly Holly's head at Wrestlemania 20 as she was strapped to a barber chair.
Maria vs. Santino. A group of divas interfered and held him down.
Mickie James "caking" Michelle McCool and Layla at the Royal Rumble as other divas held them back.
Anyone know of any other moments like this in wrestling?
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FREE Spanking/Domestic Discipline Network (1 reply)
Take a look at my FREE spanking website Domestic Discipline Life http;//www.myddlife.com
princess x
princess x
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Xvindicosuite redirecting (1 reply)
Chross every time one clicks on one of the links there is a redirect to Xvindicosuite (some form of unwanted adware). Some web sources suggest it might be linked to "site meter". No big deal as anyhow I have adware block but it may get annoying pretty fast. Thanks. Panpan
PS: that seems new as of this week. It does not affect any other site.
PS: that seems new as of this week. It does not affect any other site.
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Adrienne Black (1 reply)
hi Spankos Would any of you know whether adrienne black of firm hand spanking fame has done any other adult work or any other spanking site apart from firm hand
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Can't undo post (no replies)
Hiya Chross... Okay, this afternoon I posted a reply to a topic, then corrected my reply, then later tried to correct it again. Nothing worked.
The subject has to do with somebody's post about a spanking that was supposedly seen on the "ALLY MCBEAL" TV show. My point was that there is NO spanking in that show.
After I posted my message, I decided to DELETE it, create a new version of my post, and then posted THAT.
Long story short: I ended up with about four different versions of the same message, but then I discovered that this message board WILL NOT allow me to "delete" anything once it's been posted. Can you help?
Cheers,
Dan
The subject has to do with somebody's post about a spanking that was supposedly seen on the "ALLY MCBEAL" TV show. My point was that there is NO spanking in that show.
After I posted my message, I decided to DELETE it, create a new version of my post, and then posted THAT.
Long story short: I ended up with about four different versions of the same message, but then I discovered that this message board WILL NOT allow me to "delete" anything once it's been posted. Can you help?
Cheers,
Dan
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Stories • Love and Spanking Pt 3
After the disclosure that Cynthia’s mum wanted to meet David, both of the youngsters were anxious to get the ordeal over and done with. Both agreed that the best thing to do would be for David to come over for tea next Sunday afternoon. This was arranged and David got on his bike and pedalled over to Cynthia’s. He parked his bike by the front door of the house, which was actually on the side and nervously knocked on the door. A smiling Cynthia opened the door and invited David in. She was wearing a flared dress with net petticoats and her hair was beautifully set. He just looked at her in amazement; the perfect English rose. After giving his hand a squeeze, she took him through to the lounge where Mrs Reynolds was seated.
“So you are David, I recognize you instantly from the little boy that used to come to my house.”
“Hello Mrs Reynolds,” said David. She was little changed from when he used to go her house and she looked just as terrifying now as she did then. He was always scared of her.
“Sit down.”
Cynthia ushered David to the settee and sat down beside him.
“He’s grown up hasn’t he mum?” said Cynthia, hoping to influence her mum’s thinking about her having a boyfriend.
“I can see that,” replied her mum. “But has he grown up into a sensible boy?”
“Course he has mum,” said Cynthia.
“Well, we shall see,” said Mrs Reynolds, eyeing David up and down.
The conversation continued awkwardly, David trying his best to say what Mrs Reynolds wanted to hear, or at least what he thought she wanted to hear. Tea was taken and then Mrs Reynolds indicated it was time for David to go. During tea, David had made furtive glances around the room wondering if he would see the cane that Mrs Reynolds used, but to no avail. Cynthia saw him to the door, gave his hand another squeeze, her heart racing with excitement. David set off on his bike, wondering if he had made a good impression. Cynthia returned to the lounge and began clearing the crockery. She didn’t dare ask what her mother thought in case she got a negative answer. Over the washing up Mrs Reynolds spoke.
“He seems to have turned into a sensible boy.”
“Yes mum, he is.”
“Provided he doesn’t change you may continue to see him,” said Mrs Reynolds.
“Oh mum, thank you, thank you,” cried Cynthia, putting the tea towel down and giving her mum a big hug.
“Now don’t you go getting over excited,” replied Mrs Reynolds.
“But it’s my first boyfriend,” retorted Cynthia. “You must have been excited when you had yours.”
“Yes I was.” Replied her mother with a benevolent smile.
That night Cynthia found it difficult to sleep, she kept waking up and thinking about David.
David had a similar experience, only his was anxiety as to whether he had been accepted. He couldn’t wait to meet Cynthia at school on Monday morning. He was first to the place where they met to walk to school together. Finally, he saw Cynthia turn the corner and walk towards him. His heart started beating fast and he kept sidestepping from one foot to the other in excitement. As she got close, he saw Cynthia smiling; surely, the answer must be yes.
“Well, what did she say?” he asked as he joined her.
“She said yes,” said Cynthia excitedly. “We’re now boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“Fantastic,” replied David.
“Come on, let’s get to school,” said Cynthia, grabbing David by the hand and dragging him off.
A little further on David suddenly realised what they were doing and let go of Cynthia’s hand. Alas, it was too late; a teacher, passing by in his car, had spotted them. It was very much against the rules for boys and girls to hold hands in the street.
“Cynthia Reynolds and David Ransome, see me in first break,” announced Mrs Roxbrough, their Form Mistress.
They looked across at each other, wondering what this was about.
Break time came and the pair went to their form room to find Mrs Roxbrough seated at her desk.
“What do you think this is all about?” asked Cynthia.
“Not sure, but I’ve got an idea,” replied David.
“Oh tell me, David, pleeeaase?”
“We might have been seen holding hands this morning,”
“Oh no, I didn’t realise I was doing it, we were only doing it for short time.”
“Makes no difference, if we were seen, we’re in trouble,” said David gloomily.
“But why do I keep getting into trouble, “ cried Cynthia plaintively.
They reached the classroom door and went in.
“You wanted to see us Miss?” said David.
“Ah yes, the two love birds,” said Mrs Roxbrough.
“Sorry Miss?” queried David.
“You know very well what I’m talking about, please don’t deny it,”
“But we don’t know Miss,” protested Cynthia.
Mrs Roxbrough sighed.
“Mr Chatterton saw you two holding hands on the way to school this morning.”
“Oh, that,” said David.
“We didn’t realise we were doing it Miss, we stopped as soon as we did,” pleaded Cynthia.
“And I’m expected to believe that am I?” said Mrs Roxbrough.
“It is the truth Miss,” added David seriously.
“Truth or not, you have broken school rules, and a serious one at that, you know how strongly the head feels about this,” said Mrs Roxbrough.
“We’re really sorry and we’ll be more careful in future Miss,” said David.
“You certainly will after I’ve punished you,” said Mrs Roxbrough. “Cynthia, you will go to Mrs Harden and you will return with the cane and the book.”
Cynthia gave a gasp and looked wistfully at David.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Cynthia turned and left the room. She made her way to the secretary’s office and asked for the cane and book. Mrs Harden handed them over with a knowing smile. Cynthia, heart pounding, mouth dry, walked back down the corridors trying hard to conceal what she was carrying. It was little use, girls giggled or just looked; boys gave gloating looks, one or two even commented. Dying from embarrassment, Cynthia arrived back at the classroom to find David waiting outside. She gave him a puzzled look.
“She’s told me to wait here, you must be first,” said David.
Cynthia was so nervous she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Inside she handed cane and book to Mrs Roxbrough, who then made the necessary entry in the book. Then she got up and picked up the cane.
“Hold your hand out.”
Cynthia held out a trembling hand. Mrs Roxbrough adjusted the height of the hand with the cane and then whipped it down across Cynthia’s palm.
She let out a loud gasp and screwed up her face in pain.
Again the cane whipped across her palm.
Another gasp and then she bit her lip. The pain was throbbing through her hand.
A third stroke, this time across the base of her fingers. Yet again she screwed up her face and bit her lip.
A fourth stroke and she could take the pain no longer as the cane whipped across her fingertips.
She whipped her hand away and thrust both hands between her knees.
“You can go,” was all that Mrs Roxbrough said.
Cynthia took her hands away and thrust the caned hand under her armpit as she left the room, head bowed. David then went in. Cynthia leaned her back against the wall and looked at her hand. Red lines were already appearing and her hand was throbbing mercilessly. She was also desperately holding back the tears.
David entered the room with mixed emotions. One half was excitement at the prospect of being caned by an attractive young middle aged woman. Some of the boys even had competitions as to who could get caned the most. David kept clear of this as Mrs Roxbrough was very adept at giving boys a sore bottom. This was the other half of his emotions, how much would it hurt.
Mrs Roxbrough was standing ready with the cane bent between her hands.
"Come here and bend over," she ordered.
After David had grasped his ankles, Mrs Roxbrough pulled his blazer back and took aim.
Thwaaacckk!!
David screwed up his face as the cane burned its way through his bottom.
Thwaacckk!!
David bit his lip.
Thwaacckk!!
Despite the searing pain David refused to succumb and show any emotion.
Thwaacckk!!
The pain was now almost unbearable and David's eyes were watering fast.
"Alright, get up."
Never had three words been so welcome.
He got up and stood in front of Mrs Roxbrough.
“Return these to the secretary,” she said, handing the book and cane to David.
David walked stiffly from the room. Outside Cynthia was now with two of her classmates. She looked up at David.
“Are you alright? Did it hurt very much?”
“I’ll tell you later,” he replied not wanting to say anything in front of the other girls.
Later they met up and compared their punishments. They both agreed that they would be more careful in future.
“So you are David, I recognize you instantly from the little boy that used to come to my house.”
“Hello Mrs Reynolds,” said David. She was little changed from when he used to go her house and she looked just as terrifying now as she did then. He was always scared of her.
“Sit down.”
Cynthia ushered David to the settee and sat down beside him.
“He’s grown up hasn’t he mum?” said Cynthia, hoping to influence her mum’s thinking about her having a boyfriend.
“I can see that,” replied her mum. “But has he grown up into a sensible boy?”
“Course he has mum,” said Cynthia.
“Well, we shall see,” said Mrs Reynolds, eyeing David up and down.
The conversation continued awkwardly, David trying his best to say what Mrs Reynolds wanted to hear, or at least what he thought she wanted to hear. Tea was taken and then Mrs Reynolds indicated it was time for David to go. During tea, David had made furtive glances around the room wondering if he would see the cane that Mrs Reynolds used, but to no avail. Cynthia saw him to the door, gave his hand another squeeze, her heart racing with excitement. David set off on his bike, wondering if he had made a good impression. Cynthia returned to the lounge and began clearing the crockery. She didn’t dare ask what her mother thought in case she got a negative answer. Over the washing up Mrs Reynolds spoke.
“He seems to have turned into a sensible boy.”
“Yes mum, he is.”
“Provided he doesn’t change you may continue to see him,” said Mrs Reynolds.
“Oh mum, thank you, thank you,” cried Cynthia, putting the tea towel down and giving her mum a big hug.
“Now don’t you go getting over excited,” replied Mrs Reynolds.
“But it’s my first boyfriend,” retorted Cynthia. “You must have been excited when you had yours.”
“Yes I was.” Replied her mother with a benevolent smile.
That night Cynthia found it difficult to sleep, she kept waking up and thinking about David.
David had a similar experience, only his was anxiety as to whether he had been accepted. He couldn’t wait to meet Cynthia at school on Monday morning. He was first to the place where they met to walk to school together. Finally, he saw Cynthia turn the corner and walk towards him. His heart started beating fast and he kept sidestepping from one foot to the other in excitement. As she got close, he saw Cynthia smiling; surely, the answer must be yes.
“Well, what did she say?” he asked as he joined her.
“She said yes,” said Cynthia excitedly. “We’re now boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“Fantastic,” replied David.
“Come on, let’s get to school,” said Cynthia, grabbing David by the hand and dragging him off.
A little further on David suddenly realised what they were doing and let go of Cynthia’s hand. Alas, it was too late; a teacher, passing by in his car, had spotted them. It was very much against the rules for boys and girls to hold hands in the street.
“Cynthia Reynolds and David Ransome, see me in first break,” announced Mrs Roxbrough, their Form Mistress.
They looked across at each other, wondering what this was about.
Break time came and the pair went to their form room to find Mrs Roxbrough seated at her desk.
“What do you think this is all about?” asked Cynthia.
“Not sure, but I’ve got an idea,” replied David.
“Oh tell me, David, pleeeaase?”
“We might have been seen holding hands this morning,”
“Oh no, I didn’t realise I was doing it, we were only doing it for short time.”
“Makes no difference, if we were seen, we’re in trouble,” said David gloomily.
“But why do I keep getting into trouble, “ cried Cynthia plaintively.
They reached the classroom door and went in.
“You wanted to see us Miss?” said David.
“Ah yes, the two love birds,” said Mrs Roxbrough.
“Sorry Miss?” queried David.
“You know very well what I’m talking about, please don’t deny it,”
“But we don’t know Miss,” protested Cynthia.
Mrs Roxbrough sighed.
“Mr Chatterton saw you two holding hands on the way to school this morning.”
“Oh, that,” said David.
“We didn’t realise we were doing it Miss, we stopped as soon as we did,” pleaded Cynthia.
“And I’m expected to believe that am I?” said Mrs Roxbrough.
“It is the truth Miss,” added David seriously.
“Truth or not, you have broken school rules, and a serious one at that, you know how strongly the head feels about this,” said Mrs Roxbrough.
“We’re really sorry and we’ll be more careful in future Miss,” said David.
“You certainly will after I’ve punished you,” said Mrs Roxbrough. “Cynthia, you will go to Mrs Harden and you will return with the cane and the book.”
Cynthia gave a gasp and looked wistfully at David.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Cynthia turned and left the room. She made her way to the secretary’s office and asked for the cane and book. Mrs Harden handed them over with a knowing smile. Cynthia, heart pounding, mouth dry, walked back down the corridors trying hard to conceal what she was carrying. It was little use, girls giggled or just looked; boys gave gloating looks, one or two even commented. Dying from embarrassment, Cynthia arrived back at the classroom to find David waiting outside. She gave him a puzzled look.
“She’s told me to wait here, you must be first,” said David.
Cynthia was so nervous she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Inside she handed cane and book to Mrs Roxbrough, who then made the necessary entry in the book. Then she got up and picked up the cane.
“Hold your hand out.”
Cynthia held out a trembling hand. Mrs Roxbrough adjusted the height of the hand with the cane and then whipped it down across Cynthia’s palm.
She let out a loud gasp and screwed up her face in pain.
Again the cane whipped across her palm.
Another gasp and then she bit her lip. The pain was throbbing through her hand.
A third stroke, this time across the base of her fingers. Yet again she screwed up her face and bit her lip.
A fourth stroke and she could take the pain no longer as the cane whipped across her fingertips.
She whipped her hand away and thrust both hands between her knees.
“You can go,” was all that Mrs Roxbrough said.
Cynthia took her hands away and thrust the caned hand under her armpit as she left the room, head bowed. David then went in. Cynthia leaned her back against the wall and looked at her hand. Red lines were already appearing and her hand was throbbing mercilessly. She was also desperately holding back the tears.
David entered the room with mixed emotions. One half was excitement at the prospect of being caned by an attractive young middle aged woman. Some of the boys even had competitions as to who could get caned the most. David kept clear of this as Mrs Roxbrough was very adept at giving boys a sore bottom. This was the other half of his emotions, how much would it hurt.
Mrs Roxbrough was standing ready with the cane bent between her hands.
"Come here and bend over," she ordered.
After David had grasped his ankles, Mrs Roxbrough pulled his blazer back and took aim.
Thwaaacckk!!
David screwed up his face as the cane burned its way through his bottom.
Thwaacckk!!
David bit his lip.
Thwaacckk!!
Despite the searing pain David refused to succumb and show any emotion.
Thwaacckk!!
The pain was now almost unbearable and David's eyes were watering fast.
"Alright, get up."
Never had three words been so welcome.
He got up and stood in front of Mrs Roxbrough.
“Return these to the secretary,” she said, handing the book and cane to David.
David walked stiffly from the room. Outside Cynthia was now with two of her classmates. She looked up at David.
“Are you alright? Did it hurt very much?”
“I’ll tell you later,” he replied not wanting to say anything in front of the other girls.
Later they met up and compared their punishments. They both agreed that they would be more careful in future.
Statistics: Posted by lisamum10 — Fri Jul 29, 2016 7:33 pm
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