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Spanking Theatre

Spanking stories for the theatre between your ears

Month

December 2013

My Waiting Game

An anonymous reader writes:

I love your stories, I love slipping into them and acting them out.

So I want to tell you about my waiting game, one that you inspired.

I like to play it late at night, just before I go to bed. I start by changing into my old school uniform, it still fits, although the blouse hugs naughtily tight. Underneath I wear a tight black push up bra, just like I used to, but I’m a big girl now, so I leave my top buttons open. My panties are plain white, just about covered by my plain charcoal skirt, which is far too short for me now. Knee socks and flat black shoes, and then it’s time for school.

But oh dear. I’ve been a very, very naughty girl.

I am given detention after school.

I am sent to stand in the corner of my room with my hands upon my head. There I wait. I feel my pulse quicken and my palms dampen. I feel my breasts rise and fall, stretching and tugging my tight blouse with every breath. I imagine waiting for Sir to arrive. It is exciting.

Then he arrives, and I slowly pull my skirt up to my hips, just like I imagine he would. I can almost hear his strong stern voice scolding me for my misbehaviour.

I don’t have an egg timer, so I fetch my bullet vibrator. I turn it to its slowest setting, making it buzz every few seconds. I put it down the back of my school panties, between my bum cheeks so it touches my arsehole but not my pussy. It’s more frustrating that way…

I open my bedroom curtains, I don’t think anyone can see into my room, but it’s exciting to think someone might.

Finally I return to my corner and tie a silk scarf around my head, covering my eyes. I put my hands on my head again – and wait.

I feel the vibrations, just like the girl in the story. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. I feel my skin prickle with goosebumps. I spread my legs slightly and can feel my wetness seeping into my school panties. I’m alone with my thoughts, imagining what it would be like to wait like this for a spanking. It becomes harder and harder to wait as the vibrations keep tingling my body.

I know the rules. No peeping. No taking off the blindfold til I’m told. And I’m definitely not allowed to cum.

But I’m a terribly impatient girl!  Sometimes I’ll pull the blindfold from my eyes, and imagine Sir scolding me for my disobedience. Sometimes I reach back into my panties and twist the base of my bullet to its highest setting, and I’m soon on my knees in a moaning heap.

I whisper to myself. “Such a naughty girl. Time for your spanking.”

There’s a couple of pillows waiting for me on my bed, I bend myself over, bottom high, imagining I’m being put across Sir’s knee. I pull down my damp panties. Discipline is delivered on the bare bum at this school. There can be no exceptions.

Sir has several implements for naughty girls: a slipper, a wooden ruler, a paddle. He makes me choose one. He can be so cruel.

Then I reach back and spank myself. I make sure my bum is hit nice and hard, even slapping my inner thighs a couple of times. I continue until I’m hot and pink and sore.

Then he sends me back to the corner. The scarf is tied around my temple again, and just before it’s pulled down over my eyes, he puts the vibe into my palm. Now I have to cup my crotch with both hands, holding the vibe against my exquisitely sensitive lips.

I stand there in the dark, my legs beginning to quiver, as I picture him just behind me admiring my round pink cheeks. Sometimes I imagine someone can see my spanked bum through my window. Sometimes I imagine I hear him dropping his trousers. Sometimes I’m just in a delirious world of my own.

And my game always has a very, very happy ending.

Thank you so much for the inspiration.

 

From Waiting:

“As I stand in the corner, staring at the blackness of the blindfold, listening to the tick, tick, tick of the egg timer, I imagine myself in another place. The ticking seems to be getting louder, now a sotto voce rather than a whisper. The vibrations are becoming more insistent – less easy to ignore, they’re almost beginning to feel good.

 

My mind runs wild with the possibilities of what will happen when the ticking finally stops. Will he tell me to pull down my panties? Or will he do it? Will he drag them abruptly whilst scolding me? Or lower them slowly and compassionately? What will he spank me with? His bare hand perhaps, or a wooden ruler?  Will that pink glowing bottom of mine change to a darker shade of red? How will I feel? What if I get excited? My head spins, the scenarios seem endless…”

 

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