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Lord Radclifford, Royal Spanker

by Christophorus Volkov

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 12 Dec 2017

The following story is a work of fiction loosely based on historical figures and events. The work is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of the historical figures loosely mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives. The narrator and any experiences recounted by him are completely works of fiction and any similarity between him and any person, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

One of the biggest and best kept secrets of the Royal Family is what happens to young, misbehaving princes.

What I am about to tell you is quite the secret, but it must be told, and I’m the only one who can tell it. You see, I was once known informally as the Royal Spanker.

Truth be told, I was just a lowly assistant, but the Queen liked me, and I liked Her. I guess I must have gained her trust. One day, while we were walking the Corgis, she said, These boys need discipline. Lord knows my heir won’t provide it. I was thinking that if the time ever came that I needed to discipline the two Princes, that perhaps you could take care of it.

It was an odd request, but I could never turn down the Queen. To be honest, the job was quite a drag. There was only one time that I ever needed to punish one of the Princes. It was the red haired one that embarrassed the Queen enough to ask for my discipline services.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was summoned to Buckingham Palace about ten after nine in the evening. Earlier in the day, the tabloids had a field day the Queen because the Prince had showed up at party wearing a very unfortunate costume. Frankly, I didn’t put together that the two were related.

The Queen had retired for the evening, so I was led to a large open room I had never been in before. In the middle of the sparsely furnished room was a large, ornate chair. One of the house employees asked me to sit in the chair and wait.

I waited for a few minutes in wonder. When the door opened, I noticed the Prince, dressed in a loose-fitting nightshirt flanked by two escorts. Each of the escorts ore a kilt. The taller one stepped forward wile the Prince waited by the side of the other one.

The Queen hereby commands you, a loyal and faithful subject, to punish the Prince by spanking his bare royal bottom 25 times with your bare hand.

As the escort read the order, I heard the Queen’s voice in my head. He continued, The Prince is to be across your knee and must stay there for the duration of the punishment. He has been very naughty and has brought great embarrassment upon this family and most importantly himself. He deserves to be punished as one would a child...since he has clearly acted with the mentality of one. –HRH.

It was clear from the look on his face that the Prince had been taken by surprise. He looked like he was about to faint as the escort read the proclamation from Her Royal Highness. As I remember, the Prince was about 1.8 meters tall or so. At 21, he was still a little bit thinner than he appears today after his time in the military. The nightshirt hid his body.

Wasting no time, the two escorts placed the reluctant Prince over my knee and one raised the nightshirt up above his waist exposing his creamy white cheeks.

The escort stood up at attention. Looking straight ahead, I have read the proclamation and order from Her Royal Highness. This is to be considered a matter of the House and not a matter of the government. The Queen has asked that you, Lord Radclifford, carry out this punishment. Are you able to perform the duty?

I looked down at the Prince. He appeared to be as uncomfortable as I was, but I had a duty to perform. I looked at his round but skinny Royal butt cheeks. I reached down and placed my hand on them. I rubbed his right cheek. Then, I grabbed his left cheek and squeezed. For a moment, I thought, How the Hell did I get here?

I kept my grasp on the Prince’s butt as I nodded, Yes, yes I can.

The Prince closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. Well, then get on with it, he said.

I raised my hand and brought it down with force upon the Prince’s bare butt.


At first, he just let out little grunt, MMPH.











It was about the seventh smack that he started to wiggle.






I struck five in a row in quick succession, and the Prince stood straight up. It gave me a chance to look at his royal penis before the nightgown fell back down. Still limp, the Prince’s cock was thick. He was uncut.

The escort spoke again. Sir, you must assume the position for the final 12 strokes.

The Prince, rubbing his ass, bent over my knee again. I raised the nightshirt exposing his red ass. I decided to go quickly on the next five.


AAAAAAHHHHOWWWWW! screamed the Prince.

He looked up at the ceiling as he rubbed his ass. The escort approached and placed the Prince over my knee again. He reached between the Prince’s legs and grabbed the nightshirt pulling it above his head. The Prince was now naked from the neck down and bent over my knee.

The escort placed his hand on the back of the Prince’s neck and motioned to the other escort to hold the Prince’s ankles.

Continue, sir.

I asked the Prince, Do you want them fast or slow, your Majesty?

Fast....Fast...Do it quick.

In quick succession, I slapped his ass seven more times. The Prince squirmed with each strike.


The Prince let out a guttural yelp on the seventh slap breaking away from the escort holding his ankles. The escort holding his head down released his neck.


The Prince stood up, face beet red with embarrassment. He stripped off the nightshirt. Now, completely naked, the Prince doubled up the garment and rubbed it on his ass. His butt, like his face, was a deep deep red color.

I couldn’t help but notice the Prince’s impressive penis as it was close enough for me to place it in my mouth. The Prince looked down at me with his blue eyes. His red hair was now unkempt. His thin body was muscular. His pecs were well toned, and you could wash laundry on his abs. Sweat rolled down his naked torso on to his hips and down his thighs.

He stood there for what seemed like an hour, but it was just a few seconds. He just looked at me, and I looked at him. That cold steel look carried both anger and appreciation. He looked down at his cock and then looked back at my eyes. I was trying not to notice it.

He did it again, as if to say, Do you want to grab this?

I was tempted, but he was at least half my age. It wasn’t right. Plus, I could have been misreading his nonverbal communication. I had no interest of ending up in the Tower of London, however unlikely that might have been.

Perhaps sensing the awkwardness, the escort that read the proclamation said, Your service is complete, Lord Radclifford. I shall see you out.

The Prince continued to stand there, naked, until his other escort brought him a robe from the closet.

As I rose from the chair and turned to leave, the Prince broke his silence, Don’t go so quickly, said the Prince. I have something to say.

He reached over and grabbed my hand. Thank you, sir, for your service, said the Prince. You have taught me a great lesson of humility today.

Thank you, Your Highness, I answered. I...I am glad to be of service.

The way you grabbed my ass, it seems you were really glad for sure, smiled the Prince with a chuckle.

I chuckled nervously. He’d noticed my little grab before the start of the punishment cycle.

Have a good evening, Your Highness, I said.

He nodded, and the escort led me to a car which carried me back to my flat.

I stayed employed with the Queen for another year and a half. I left on my own accord. A few years back, I read and saw pictures of the Prince In the tabloids again for playing strip billiards in Las Vegas. I was on holiday in Bermuda.

My attendant said that a Royal Courier had come for me a few nights after the incident hit the papers. When he informed them that I was out of the country, the Royal Courier turned and left quickly and did not return. I can only speculate what they wanted. After all, the Prince would have been around 28 then.

The other day, I read that the Prince is finally settling down. I’m so proud of him. He’s grown into a great man, and I hope I had some small part in that.

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