Spanking Theatre

Spanking stories for the theatre between your ears


May 2013

Spanking Haiku #8: Dear Daddy

Dear Daddy’s knees

a place for littles who tease

and do as they please

On one hand I can’t wait for a new story because they’re so sexy but on the other waiting and made to be patient is a turn on. Either way I’m horny and deserve a spanking for being so naughty here’s hoping inspiration hits your bum hard and leaves marks

Happily, inspiration is never a problem. I keep a notebook of story ideas, into which I’m always scribbling new scenes, characters, plots and twists. Now I have over 30 great story ideas, each a miniature empty balloon, awaiting the inflating breath of life.

With such a rich supply of raw material, I always have a story or two in progress. But I like to write slowly; it gives me the opportunity to elaborate and polish each tale, and introduce a level of detail that makes each story unpredictable, ambiguous, and enjoyable to read again and again.

Being a busy professional, the most difficult challenge is simply finding time to write. Sometimes I write when I travel. Sometimes I look down the train carriage at a constellation of glinting screens. All those Kindles, ipads, phones and laptops. I look to see if anyone else is writing, there’s a faint click of key presses, but it’s the slow tapping of a report being edited, not the rapid frantic flow of a story being spun. Most seem to be reading. I wonder if they’re reading naughty words, hiding their secret with a carefully angled silvery screen, trying not to blush at descriptions of dungeons, floggings and a dozen more delicious taboos. Wishing they were home already…

Sometimes a story makes you wait.

The Waterwheel


Water trickling

water gurgling

surging splashing

sploshy burbling

Wooden wheel

tirelessly turning

spun by cascading

torrents churning


O I’m such a naughty girl!

On sunny days I love to take

A whippy whacking rod

One to make my bottom ache


Naughty me, I’m quite undressed

Soft lush grass, bare feet caressed

A sunlit stroll, by gleaming brook

Down to my secret spanking nook


Passers-by would not believe

What devious imagination first conceived

Of harnessing pure water’s flow

To whack naughty bottoms so


I bend across the wooden bench

And slot the cane into the post

I feel it press upon my cheeks

Then the bit I love the most


On the wheel there is a peg

It lifts the cane and makes it creak

Up and up it bends until it slips

Whacking back to make me squeak


A short pause to catch my breath

Cane upon my stinging cheeks

The peg will soon be round again

Do any ever hear my shrieks?


My merciless water-powered imagination machine

Whisks my mind away to waking dreams


I imagine wrist and ankle stocks

They place a rod across my bum

Leaving me struggling against my locks

My shouts receding as they walk away

Leaving me at the mercy of the wheel

Perhaps they’ll not return today


Or I’m a naughty miller’s daughter

Sent to the wheel, discovered wanking

I’m disciplined by gushing water

Returning home to show my spanking


Afterwards I love to lie

On the dewy riverbank under sky

Damp grass soothing poor pink bum

Slow filthy rubbing ‘til I come


Mesmerised by the turning wheel

I rub to the rhythm of the lifting cane

Massaging deep within my crack

Pleasure overwhelming pain

O how it bends, and then whips back

Where my bottom used to be

My ears fill with an imagined thwack

Until I’m swept away excitedly


At night I listen to the rain

A trillion raindrops fill my dreams

Uniting… merging… surging…

Into torrential bottom smacking streams



@spankingtheatre 2013

illustrator: sadly, unknown 

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