May 15th, 2012

Welcome…

Welcome to overthedesk.com where you will find short stories featuring realistic corporal punishment. Viewing these stories is entirely free and all we ask is that you respect the authors’ copyright.

We are actively seeking new stories for this site and will always offer help, assistance and encouragement if needed to new and long-standing writers alike. We have a sister website for factual recollections at www.otd-memories.com where again new memories are welcomed.

We also like to hear from anyone who just wants to chat about spanking and CP matters. We’re friendly and approachable!

Contact us at admin@overthedesk.com or direct to kennywalters@hotmail.com

January 20th, 2018

Blushing Blossoms

Two girls chat on the phone. By a new writer to us.

By Alex B

Julie and Rachel had met online at Blushing Blossoms, a website dedicated to single women curious about others who were interested in the world of erotic discipline. They had exchanged messages for a few weeks, sharing stories and photographs. Then one of Rachel’s letters included her phone number.

“Hello, Rachel? This is Julie from San Diego.”

“Oh. Hi, Julie!”

“You free to talk?” The conversation was simple and pleasant for a few minutes.

Then Rachel ventured past the bounds of the weather and other pleasantries. “So, how did you get interested in spanking?”
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January 16th, 2018

Jackie Made to Pay

A marital problem resolved

By PG

Jackie had been married for thirty-one years and was soon to celebrate her fiftieth birthday. Her marriage has been a great success and she and her husband had a daughter and son both in their twenties and both with excellent jobs in the City. However, it might have been very different had her husband had not given her a second chance a little over a year into their marriage. The thirty-year anniversary was approaching of when she received a devastating caning at the hands of her husband. At the time he had been furious and their marriage had very nearly ended, and this is story of what happened almost thirty years previously.
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January 13th, 2018

Like Daughter, Like Mother

Following on from a previous story, mother and daughter face their disciplinarian

By PW

“I suppose it was when I had got over the initial shock,” said Penny Brown to her daughter, Helen. “It’s not nice to think of a child of your own being treated like that. But then again, as I expect you are about to remind me, you are not a child anymore.”

It was a chat in the kitchen between mother and daughter about a rather unusual incident that had happened a few months earlier. Helen duly answered with a smile.

Indeed, as Mrs Brown had just said, her daughter was not a child any longer; her twentieth birthday was only a matter of a few days away. It was early September and they were talking about their visit to former headmaster James Simmons the previous July, when Helen had undergone a disciplinary session. After a somewhat tense meeting afterwards between the Headmaster and Mrs Brown, following Helen’s quite severe caning, matters had been smoothed out, and more in fact, but after they had got over that day the rest of the summer had rolled pleasantly by them.
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January 11th, 2018

Lines

A school secretary explores her relationship with the headmaster

By Hilary Wilmington

“Mrs Burford, you were late again this morning,” said Mr Clements.

“I’m sorry, headmaster,” said Lucy Burford, “It is just that my bus is supposed to get in at eight thirty-five and usually it is on time, but sometimes it arrives late.  There isn’t really anything I can do about it.”

Mr Clements remained silent, which probably made a greater impression on Lucy than anything he might have said. She had only been working for him for three weeks and she was quite in awe of him. Not that she minded being in awe of him. It seemed perfectly proper to her. This was her very first job, despite the fact that she was over thirty years old now. She had got married just before getting her secretarial qualifications and the three children had soon followed in quick succession. Considering her lack of experience and the length of time that had elapsed since her training, she had been lucky to get this job as school secretary. The money would be very useful and she and her husband were already planning a more ambitious holiday than they had ever had before.
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January 10th, 2018

Second Appointment

A sequel to the previous story ‘And Mother Makes Four’

By Harry James

It is Friday 29th November 1996, three weeks exactly since both Dorothy Wilston and her daughter, Head Girl Marjorie, were caned in Marjorie’s Headmistress’s study for the same offence, though in Dorothy’s case the offence had taken place 25 years earlier, when she had been Deputy Head Girl, and the punishment was carried out by her now retired old Headmistress, Margaret Floyd.

In the days following her punishment Dorothy had often thought she had experienced a bizarre and surreal dream; it couldn’t possibly have happened, could it? Could she really have called her old Headmistress and to all intents and purposes requested to be punished for her 25 year old offence? Then something would happen to tell her that it really was true. One early morning, 3 days after getting caned, she had sat on the edge of her bed and been sharply reminded by the stinging soreness of her bottom. Her first instinct was to worry that something was wrong, then she remembered what it was!
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December 24th, 2017

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year…

Seasons Greetings to all our authors and readers, and for the many who kindly email to pass on their thoughts about our stories.

December 20th, 2017

And Mother Makes Four

The Head Girl and her two best friends get into trouble, with a little help from Mother

 by Harry James 

The telephone in the hall rang. Dorothy Wilston strode out from the front drawing room and picked up the handset. It was Monday and just after six o’clock in the evening on a cold 4th November in 1996.

“Pickerton 4751,” intoned Dorothy.

Of course, ‘Pickerton’ had been replaced by the all number system many years past, but Dorothy liked the old ways. And life in the Lake District still retained many of the old world graces, even if another side of Dorothy had always embraced all that was new, interesting and exciting.
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December 18th, 2017

Visiting my Domme for the Cane

A writer tells of her own experiences of visiting a professional disciplinarian

By PW

None of this ‘special, but secret’ part of my life makes a lot of sense, I know. I am a single woman, in my mid 30s and so at the time of life when the search for a man can be at its most frantic. I also have a very good, very well paid job that I genuinely enjoy; quite frankly I love it. I am still decent looking; I have quite a good figure (careful diet, gym at least twice a week without fail). I dress well (I have to for my job) and even though I say it myself I scrub up well too. I do splash out a bit on good cosmetics but I certainly don’t need to shovel it on. I can get my work face together in less than ten minutes although if we have anything special going on I do make an extra effort, obviously. I am well educated and although I didn’t quite make Oxbridge, I didn’t miss by much.
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December 16th, 2017

The Caning of Amelia Cove

A childish prank leads to problems

By Jane Fairweather

“You have got the mouse?” Meg Bates enquired, just a touch nervously, just before the Upper Sixth French lesson.

She had not been quite sure that her friend would go through with the prank.

“Yes, of course I have!” Amelia responded. “It’s time someone took Jenks down a peg. And it’s a lovely way to do it, no one will ever guess whose mouse it was; and I am a bit bored with Simon anyway. It’s such a fag keeping him hidden from the teachers. With luck he will run off and be free and never be seen again.”
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December 9th, 2017

Four O’clock in the Headmistress’s Lair

A girl’s experience in the headmistress’s study. By a new writer to us, with the grahic illustrations also by the author

By Angela Fox

‘Friday afternoon at four o’clock, and once again I am sitting on this hard chair,’ I thought. ‘Why do I do this to myself?’ I wasn’t given long to ponder. Within a minute the so-called traffic light outside her door turned from red, meaning do not disturb, to green, directing whoever was waiting on this damned chair to knock on the door for entry.

I stood up, smoothed my gymslip into place, making sure the broad knife- edged box pleats were perfect and prayed my hair was neat and tidy. Then I nervously knocked on the door and, when I saw the white sign below the traffic lights blink ‘Enter’, I turned the brass doorknob and pushed the heavy door open.
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