I’ve never been a huge practitioner of the art of open-air spanking. Save for a particular bench in the gardens at Alnwick Castle many years ago, and a birch-gathering expedition near my last-but-one house, I tend to confine myself in public to occasional ‎whacks to girls’ safely-clad behinds.
But if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it in style, right?
Like taking a detour into Green Park one Saturday night. Stopping next to a bench. Sitting, and before a girl knew it up-ending her over my lap to bare her bottom – her knickers having already been confiscated in the restaurant some time earlier.
Spanking her, soundly, the whacks echoing plainly through the still air across to anyone who might have been strolling along Piccadilly. And then pushing her back to her feet to straighten her skirt and continue back on our way to the hotel…