A novel way to make money for charity 

By Julie Baker

I was born in Newcastle in 1991 and my parents called me Roxanne, although I have always been known as Roxy. My Dad is a lorry driver and my Mum works at the local hospital as a cleaner. I have no brothers or sisters. We live in a village in County Durham in an ex-council house that my parents bought shortly after I was born. I still live at home. I have had various boyfriends but nobody who was able to tempt me away from my happy and secure life under my parents’ roof.

Everybody tells me that I am lucky because I inherited my mother’s beauty rather than my father’s strength. I’m tall with naturally blond hair, which I wear long down my back, and an open, pretty face. I wasn’t particularly keen on school sports but I walk in the hills with my parents and I ride my horse at weekends. This is enough to keep my slim body in good shape. I wasn’t blessed with a good brain, though, and when it came to academic work I struggled with virtually all subjects and left school when I was 16 with very few qualifications.

However, I have a confident and outward going personality, coupled with a good work ethic, so I soon found gainful employment in the village. I worked in the local Co-op mainly stacking shelves, but after a couple of years I was allowed to work on the tills. It wasn’t well paid but it was enough for me to be able to contribute a bit to the running of our house. My Dad kept on telling me that I should look around for something else so that I would broaden my experience and learn some new skills. Initially I was reluctant as I liked the other staff at the Co-op and enjoyed seeing the customers, most of whom I knew well, pass through the shop.

Then an advert appeared in the Post Office window. Somebody wanted an assistant-come-secretary to work in a small office situated on the business park located at the edge of the village. The business park used to be the old Rural District Council depot but fell into disuse when local government was reorganised in the early 1980s. A guy who lived in the next village to ours bought it and converted it into business units that he now rents out. He also owns a few houses and jointly runs a small distribution business. Finally he is a sleeping partner in a land agent’s business that he encouraged a friend of his to set up when he was made redundant. All of these businesses are run from his office at the Business Park and there are generally about 10 staff working for the various enterprises located in the office.

The boss of this empire is called Graham Dobson. He is in his early 50s, good looking and clearly has plenty of money. He has no children, and as far as I can gather he has had three fairly long term partners over the years but has never wanted to settle down permanently with one girl. He is very chatty and unashamedly flirtatious with the opposite sex but in a kind and comfortable sort of way. I’m sure that being pretty helped me get an interview for the job but he was very particular about his requirements and warned me that if I got the job I would only last if I lived up to his expectations. I was offered the job with substantially better terms than I was on at the Co-op. I accepted and started work there when I was just 19.

My life then settled into a very nice pattern. I loved working for Graham as the work was varied and he was a very kind and amusing boss. The extra money also helped me broaden my leisure activities. I’ve always loved animals and had I been better equipped academically I would have liked to be a vet or a veterinary nurse. This was never going to happen but instead I am a volunteer for the local animal rescue centre which is based in a neighbouring town 11 miles from where I live. I work there two evenings a week and one day every other weekend. I get travel expenses only but I love the company of the other volunteers and the satisfaction of being able to help animals who find themselves in difficult situations.

Money is always tight at the centre. We charge clients some costs when pets are re-homed but this rarely covers the true expense and we constantly rely on donations and bequests. This ebbs and flows and occasionally we hit cash crises. A couple of years ago, we went through a particularly tight spell and there was a real possibility that the centre would fold. An emergency meeting was called and all the volunteers were asked to attend and come with any money raising ideas. I couldn’t really think of anything but I went to the meeting anyway to hear what was going on. Twelve of us turned up and there was the normal range of ideas including raffles, coffee mornings and sponsored runs. We committed to some of the ideas but the chairman came up with the best one; a sort of ‘bob-a-job’ scheme for adults. He said that we all had particular skills and that we should hire ourselves out to friends and family in exchange for a fee.

I couldn’t really think of anything that anyone would pay me to do, so I just asked around amongst the people who I came in contact with and I picked up a few evenings baby sitting, the odd assignment as a waitress at a dinner party and a day looking after an elderly lady. Nothing that paid very much but it all helped and I quite enjoyed the variety. I hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask my boss Graham if he had anything for me but I was running out of people to ask and the centre was still in need of urgent funds. One Monday morning in November a couple of years ago I knocked on his door and went in.

“Yes, Roxy, what can I do for you?”

I explained about the centre, the lack of cash and the scheme for doing work in exchange for a donation.

“Can you think of anything that I could do for you in exchange for cash for the centre?” I asked.

He pondered for a few seconds.

“Ok, Roxy, I’ll give you £100 for a full strip, plus a further £100 for taking a slippering and a caning.”

There was then a stunned silence that lasted for a few moments. I could feel that I had gone pink with embarrassment and I really didn’t know where to look or what to say.

“Pardon, Graham, what did you say?” I managed eventually.

“You heard, Roxy. That’s my offer. If you don’t like it then let’s forget it and we’ll move on as normal.”

He was smiling as he said it and I sensed that he was enjoying the tension and my evident discomfort. I knew I had a good body, and nakedness has never been something I have been uncomfortable with. But taking corporal punishment from him? That was a whole different ball game! The money was attractive but there were limits to what I would do to help out the centre.

“I’ll tell you what, Graham,” I said eventually. “I’ll take my clothes off for you for the £100 but that is absolutely it. Nothing more and it must be an arrangement strictly between the two of us. I’ll have to tell them it was cleaning work or something.”

“Sorry, Roxy, that was a combined offer. You can’t pick the bit that suits you; it’s all or nothing. The only thing I will say is that you should trust me. You will be alright at the end of it and I won’t do anything to you beyond what I’ve asked. But the choice is yours. It has to be case of ‘willing seller and willing buyer’. £200 for an hours work isn’t too bad!”

I was having to think fast.

“If £100 is the right price for seeing me naked, then surely allowing you to attack my bottom with slippers and canes must be worth more than an extra £100? I’ll tell you what Graham, make it £250 all in and we have deal.”

“OK, you’re booked, Roxy.”

We then compared diaries and agreed on the following Sunday at 4.00pm at his place. The whole conversation had taken little more than five minutes and I was then sat back at my desk wondering what I had done. I also realised that I now had dozens of questions in my head that I should have asked but probably won’t now get the opportunity to put to him until I’m at his house in six days time. He had estimated an hour for the session. Would I have to be naked all that time? What sort of shoe would he use for the slippering? Would it hurt? How many cane strokes would he deliver? Would the punishment be to my bare bottom of would I be allowed to wear some clothing? The list went on and on.

Amazingly, the rest of the week passed off as normal. Graham said nothing further about our arrangement and there was no change in how he dealt with me at work. He left the office early on Friday and casually said to me that he would see me on Sunday as if we had a perfectly normal engagement arranged. By Saturday afternoon I could tell that I was getting nervous and I was starting to get butterflies in my tummy. I told my parents that Graham had given me a job to do at his house the following day but they barely registered any interest. I had decided I wasn’t going to start telling lies about my movements, as someone could easily see my car at Graham’s house. I just wasn’t going to share the full story.

Sunday morning found me more nervous than I was before my driving test. Full on butterflies in my stomach and I couldn’t think of anything other than what I had agreed to do later that day. Part of it was excitement, but I was apprehensive about the lack of detail forthcoming from Graham. He had assured me I would be fine and I just had to run with it. I had a long lie in and didn’t come down until after 11.00am for breakfast. I walked the dogs, had a late lunch at 2.00pm and went straight back up to my room. Fortunately my parents had gone shopping in Newcastle and they were then going to see a film in the evening. At least I didn’t have to contend with their questions.

But what should I wear? Jeans, trainers and a sweatshirt seemed like a bit of a cop out. But equally I didn’t want to be dressed up and look, as well as feel, like a prostitute. I stood naked in my bedroom and looked at myself in the full length mirror. Everything appeared to be in good shape at the front and I then twisted round to look at my bottom. Smooth, soft and not a blemish. I wondered what it would look like in a couple of hours.

One thing I was certain about; no thong. Just in case I was going to be allowed to keep my underwear on for the spanking part then I had to have panties with a full covering at the back. So I chose my favourite matching white satin bra and panties which I knew looked good and always made me feel sexy. Based on this I then put on my party stockings with suspender belt and selected my new floral party dress. It is predominantly navy blue with pretty small flowers in the pattern and looks great against my blond hair and fair skin. I completed my outfit with a short cream cardigan. I grabbed my light beige full length Mac and I was ready to go. It had just gone 3.30pm and it was no more than 20 minutes to Graham’s house. I arrived just before 4.00pm and knocked on his door.

He greeted me with a confident smile and invited me in. The first thing I noticed was that he had the heating turned up and there was a roaring fire in his sitting room. The second thing I noticed was a low coffee table in the centre of his fire side rug in front of his sofa – on it was a fairly substantial white tennis shoe and a crook handled light yellow cane. It was about a meter in length and maybe a bit thinner than I had expected.

“Let me take your coat,” he said.

I handed him my Mac and briefly I was alone in the room. But I couldn’t take my eyes off those two objects laid out on his table. It was impossible not to imagine how they were going to be put to use on my bottom.

“Take a seat, Roxy,” he said when he came back. “You are looking a little apprehensive but there is nothing to worry about. You can leave at any time if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Graham. I know that but we struck a deal and I’m not intending to back out.”

He produced an envelope from his back pocket and placed it on the coffee table.

“That’s for you when we have finished, Roxy. £250 in cash, as we agreed. Are you ready to get started?”

“Yes, Graham, we may as well get on with it. Do you want me to take my clothes off?”

“Yes, that is the general idea, Roxy!” He was laughing as he said it, but all the onus was now on me. I had to make the next moves while he sat back on the sofa and enjoyed the show.

I stood up and asked Graham for a chair to put my clothes on. He went through to his dining room and produced a straight backed chair which he put to the side of the fireplace. I could feel the glowing heat from the fire and I felt I needed to cool down anyway. I unbuttoned my cardigan and put it over the back of the chair. I then took off my shoes and placed them under the chair. Total silence, apart from the crackling of the wood on the fire.

I had carefully planned the order of clothes removal before I arrived at Graham’s house. My next move would reveal more of my body, but I wasn’t rushing and I was enjoying the little bit of power that was in my hands. I reached round and unzipped the back of my dress. I slipped the shoulders off and allowed it to drop to the floor. I bent down, picked it up and carefully folded it before placing it on the seat of the chair. At this point I was dressed in bra, panties, suspender belt and stockings. I perched on the edge of the chair, unfastened my suspenders and slowly removed both stockings. I then took off my suspender belt and stood up to allow these items to be added to those already on the chair.

So, only my bra and panties left to go. I faced Graham with the fire roaring behind me and unfastened my bra. I covered my breasts as the bra came off and I turned to place the item on the chair. I turned back to face him with only my panties left to go. I had to lower my hands to remove this last garment and I slowly slipped them down my legs before allowing them drop around my ankles. There was nothing he couldn’t see now as I stooped to gather them up and completed the full set of my clothes on the chair. I smiled as I faced him and did a little twirl.

“You have a fantastic body, Roxy. Thank you. That’s the first part done. Shall we have a cup of tea?”

At this point I was feeling quite comfortable, despite being stark naked, and a cup of tea seemed like a great idea.

“Thanks, Graham. That sounds good,” I replied.

“OK, come through as you are and I’ll put the kettle on.”

I followed him into his kitchen. It was a little cooler in there, particularly standing on his stone floor in bare feet.

He filled the kettle and put it on. I sat on one of his bar stools alongside his central island unit. It was a strange feeling, my soft bottom on the hard wooden seat.

“Can you reach up and get the tea bags down, Roxy? They are on the top shelf in the cupboard behind you.”

As I reached up I could imagine him getting a great view of my back, bottom and legs. He’d paid £100 for this, so I really felt that I couldn’t begrudge him. We were soon sat across his island unit sipping the hot drinks. My mind turned to the second half of this event.

“What should I wear when it is time for me to take my punishments?” I asked hopefully.

“Nothing, Roxy. Just as you are. Those panties are so thin they would offer you no protection whatsoever. You’ve got it wrong if you think they would reduce the pain. Better that I can see what is happening to your skin so that I can get the intensity just right.”

“OK, but will you use the slipper or the cane on me first?” I then asked.

“Slipper first, Roxy. It will warm up your bottom and you will cope with the cane better as a result.”

“Oh, OK then,” I managed. “How many of each will I be getting, Graham?”

“Six of each, Roxy. That is traditional and I don’t want to push you too far as this is your first time.”

“Do they come slowly or quickly?” I asked. “And do I get a chance to rub my bottom to ease the pain?”

“I think we should do the slippering in reasonably quick time, but the caning will be done more slowly to give you a chance to recover from each stroke. You may need to rub your bottom a bit when I’m using the cane on you,” he concluded.

I couldn’t think of anything else to ask and we talked about other matters to do with the village and the people in the office. It all felt quite normal despite me sitting there with no clothes on. After about 20 minutes we had finished our drinks and Graham took the initiative to get the next part underway.

“Ready to go back through to the sitting room, Roxy?”

“Yes, Graham, let’s get this bit over with,” I said and lead the way back into the room with the roaring fire. The sun was fading outside and the fire was providing a good bit of the very soft light in there and most of the warmth. I stood by the coffee table and waited for Graham to speak.

“Right, Roxy, time for me to give you the slipper. In your own time I want you to face the window and bend over so that you are touching your toes or holding your ankles. I will check with you when you are in position and make sure you are ready. I will then give you six blows to your bare bottom using the shoe that you have seen on the table. During the slippering I want you to stay in position until I tell you that you can get up. Any questions?”

I didn’t answer but walked slowly over towards the window. I bent over and grabbed my ankles. I could feel the skin tighten across my bottom. I was totally exposed and had no idea what this was going to be like.

“I’m ready, Graham,” I said without being asked.

I could sense him moving towards me and the next thing was that I could feel the tennis shoe resting on my bottom. He gave me a couple of gentle taps.

Then the first one landed without warning. What a sting and what a surprise! I let out a cry but managed to stay down. The second one came soon after and the process acquired a rhythm all of its own. Just as the immediate pain from one strike subsided the next one came, but the background pain just grew and grew. By the sixth one I really felt that I couldn’t have taken more. I was breathing rapidly and I could feel that my eyes were watering.

“OK, Roxy. Well done. You took that remarkably well. You can get up now.”

I straightened up and turned to face him.

“Christ, that was sore,” I ventured as I rubbed my bottom with both hands.

“Let’s have a look at it, Roxy,” Graham suggested after a few moments.

I turned and showed him. By looking over my shoulder I could see that it was bright red.

“I’ve seen worse. Believe it or not, that will actually help you through the next part. Do you want a glass of water before I give you the cane?”

I wasn’t thirsty but I felt like I needed a bit of time. I padded through to the kitchen and got myself some water. When I felt more composed I rejoined Graham in the sitting room.

“The cane is more intense and it’s not going to work if you don’t have something to steady yourself on,” he stated. “You can either grip each side of the seat on the chair that has your clothes on, or you can bend over my desk in front of the window. It’s your choice.”

I had no idea which would be best, but the desk option seemed preferable to me given that it would be supporting my upper body weight. I suggested this to Graham and he promptly went over to the desk and cleared one end to allow me sufficient space.

“When you are ready, Roxy, I want you to stand close to the end of the desk with your legs together. Rest your hips on the edge of the desk and lower your top half onto the desk surface. When you are comfortable I want you to reach out with your arms and grip each side of the desk. Is that clear, Roxy?”

I nodded and walked over to the desk. I did exactly as requested and was soon in position.

“Thank you, Roxy. I’ll try to make sure the six cane strokes are not overlapping because that will obviously be better for you. I think we should have a short break after three so that you can recover a bit and massage your bottom. That will help you get through it.”

I heard him pick up the cane from the table and I could see him moving towards me with it in his right hand. Again he gave me a few taps before unleashing the first stroke. What an explosion of pain right across the centre of my bottom! How on earth could I take six of these? That was way worse than any part of the slippering. All I could do was focus on the £250 sitting on the table which was dependent on me getting through the next five cane strokes. It was probably 30 seconds later when number 2 landed. Lower, this time, but still like a red hot poker on my bare skin. One more before a mini break, I thought. I was maybe getting better prepared but the third didn’t seem too bad.

“Half way, Roxy,” said Graham. “Take a couple of minutes to ease the discomfort.”

I got up and walked around the sitting room rubbing my poor bottom. I could feel the three ridges left by the cane but I made no effort to have a look. Again my eyes were watering but I was managing to hold it together. Graham was certainly getting value for his money.

“OK, Roxy, let’s get this completed.”

I went back to the desk and resumed my position, offering up my bare bottom for three more cane strokes. The fourth one was easily the worst yet. High up on the part of my bottom where there is less flesh. It stung awfully and my breathing once again was becoming quite laboured. Number five was easier to take and then there was a worryingly long break before the sixth and final cane stroke landed. I couldn’t believe that anything could be so painful. Right in the middle of my bottom, but comfortably the hardest stroke of the six.

I collapsed into uncontrollable sobs. It was over but I couldn’t move off that desk because all my energy was focused on coping with the pain in my poor bottom. It throbbed horribly and it took me a few minutes to regain my composure. Eventually I peeled myself off the surface of the desk and reconnected with the rest of the room. Graham was sitting on the sofa and there was no sign of the shoe or the cane. The envelope was still on the coffee table and it had been joined by two drinks with ice and lemon. I went over to the chair and got dressed.

“Thank you, Roxy. You were fantastic and I’m more than happy for my £250 to be going to your animal rescue charity. So long as you are OK with what’s happened then everyone is a winner. Help yourself to a gin and tonic.”

“That was quite something!” I replied. “In a funny way the caning was quite exhilarating, but I’m not sure that I would volunteer again. I’ll have to think about that one. Maybe not impossible.”

I downed the drink. Ten minutes later, and I was driving back home with the £250 for the centre. When I got in the house I looked at my bottom in the mirror. The redness from the slippering was still evident but I could clearly count, and feel, the six cane marks. The following day there was quite a bit of dark bruising which took about 10 days to totally disappear. The people at the centre were delighted with my earnings. Nobody asked but I could see they were perplexed as to how I had performed so strongly. I still help at the sanctuary and continue to work for Graham. It’s as if nothing ever happened and that, in itself, is the perfect outcome. I still haven’t found a regular boyfriend but when I do I might tell him about the afternoon at Graham’s and ask him to re-enact the events that left me with a very sore bottom.

The End

© Julie Baker 2016

Email Julie at mailto:julie.baker_cane@mail.com

Julie’s Twitter Account: @JulieBaker_cane