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Spanking Theatre

Spanking stories for the theatre between your ears

Month

May 2015

Election Day – a short story

Do Tory voters deserve spanked bottoms? 

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New Story Notes #2: Word Painting

I may refer to it as ‘the new story’, but I first wrote the idea in my notebook over a year ago. About four months ago I developed the initial idea into an outline of constituent scenes, and what happens in each. 

In the time since, I’ve been progressively adding detail into that outline. It’s like painting – adding more and more paint over the lines of a sketch. Rubbing out and reinforcing. Adding mood and motion.

Which is why new stories take a while to appear. Developing ideas and adding depth takes time, but I think there’s a world of difference between an oil painting and a pencil sketch. I do hope you agree.

New Story Notes #2: Word Painting

I may refer to it as ‘the new story’, but I first wrote the idea in my notebook over a year ago. About four months ago I developed the initial idea into an outline of constituent scenes, and what happens in each. 

In the time since, I’ve been progressively adding detail into that outline. It’s like painting – adding more and more paint over the lines of a sketch. Rubbing out and reinforcing. Adding mood and motion.

Which is why new stories take a while to appear. Developing ideas and adding depth takes time, but I think there’s a world of difference between an oil painting and a pencil sketch. I do hope you agree.

Election Day

I always vote.

When duty calls, I never decline.

But how naughty it felt to cross the threshold of the polling station, smuggling such a sordid item into this most sacred space. This church hall. This temporary temple of democracy.

And then to stand in the short queue I as waited to confirm my name. The clerk said it out loud, as if he knew exactly who I was. Even though he couldn’t have known what I was hiding, he made me feel notorious.

I flirtatiously fiddle with the hem of my skirt, and coyly accept the ballot paper he hands to me. I let it flap in my hand like a suitor’s handkerchief.

He points towards the row of booths against the wall, their cheap curtains limp like an ersatz peep show. I saunter towards them, sashaying conspicuously, a walking blasphemy along the line of pews.

I choose the empty booth in the corner, and pull the curtain fully closed behind me. Just me and my sacred ballot, hidden from any eyes that might pry.

The booth has a little low table to write on, conveniently about waist height, I set my phone down, aiming its camera towards me, and press its screen to start recording. There had been a sign on the wall as I entered: No Photography. But what goes on in the sanctity of the voting booth is none of their business. And I don’t keep secrets from Sir.

I lift my skirt.

Oh Sir. I’m so sorry.

In my haste to do my democratic duty, I must have completely forgotten to put on any underwear…

I spin around and lift my skirt again.

Spreading my legs so there can be no doubt.

In this dim alcove I wonder if there’s enough light to allow it to sparkle.

Oh Sir. How naughty of me! 

To go out to vote wearing my princess plug…

I let my skirt fall, and scrutinise my ballot paper for the first time. Now, who shall I choose? I read down my list of choices.

What about Mr Stephen Bewers? He’s the Labour candidate, standing for fairness, equality and social justice, like some latter-day superhero. Worthy yes, but he just doesn’t turn me on. Far too sensible a choice, like what my teachers would want me to choose.

Here’s Mr Cecil Drake. The UKIP candidate. Likely considers himself a straight-talking man, one of those self-important bores who try to pick me up in bars. His is the Party of Out. An In-Out Referendum, there’s a thought… In. Out. In. Out. I reach behind me, taking out my plug, examining it, smelling the musky scent of my own bottom. Then replacing it, feeling it slide inside and fill me up. Then out again. No. I feel empty without it. Sorry Cecil, it seems I prefer an In to an Out.

Or there’s Mrs Eleanor Martin. A Liberal Democrat. She sounds like a teacher, I wonder if she’s handy with a ruler? I could warm to her. Or at least my bottom could. But something tells me liberals don’t believe in smacked bottoms any more. What a shame.

How about Ms Harriet Willows? Ah, she sounds like a strict governess. One who’d put me over her knee, and smack my bare bum with her slipper, then make me face the wall in shame with my pink cheeks on display. She’s a Tory, the party of austerity and firm leadership, the party for those sent to boarding schools and convents.

I turn around, lifting my skirt to reveal myself to the camera once more. I pump my plug in and out with my free hand, slowly so as not to give myself away with squelches, hoping the clerks won’t think I’m taking too long to deliberate. This is a very important decision after all.

The party of strictness turns me on. Ms Willows would definitely slipper my bare bum if she caught me like this. She’d believe in taking care of her constituents, instilling discipline. She wouldn’t hesitate to call at our home, and give me a good whacking as Sir looked on.

I’m playing wantonly now. Fiddling with myself. Rubbing my clit.

The plug feels so large inside my bum. Oh Sir!

I’m going to come for you!

Afterwards I grasp my ballot with my sticky fingers.

I place my X beside Ms Willows’ name like a little kiss.

I do hope she will be cruel to me.

I take my phone, coyly draw back the curtain and deposit my ballot.

Wondering if the clerks can smell my sex.

Later I know you’ll ask me.

Of course I voted Sir. For a Tory.

I’m sure you’d like to see the evidence.

And to give me the smacked bottom I deserve…

This is discipline. Made in England.

Bend over my desk please, spread your legs.

My vintage ruler perfect, even after all these years.

For spanking bare bottoms. 

Of the luckiest naughty girls.

This is discipline. Made in England.

Bend over my desk please, spread your legs.

My vintage ruler perfect, even after all these years.

For spanking bare bottoms. 

Of the luckiest naughty girls.

New Story Notes #1: The Title

The working title of my new story was originally Bildungsroman

But I opted for the English equivalent as I wasn’t sure many people would understand what the German word meant. And as I wrote in my tips for erotic writing, it’s best not to be too wilfully obscure.

Hence the title of the new story is now: Coming of Age.

New Story Notes #1: The Title

The working title of my new story was originally Bildungsroman

But I opted for the English equivalent as I wasn’t sure many people would understand what the German word meant. And as I wrote in my tips for erotic writing, it’s best not to be too wilfully obscure.

Hence the title of the new story is now: Coming of Age.

Your Words

One of the joys of writing is to be aware of when your words have been enjoyed, to know your words have come vividly to life inside readers’ imaginations. And sometimes, these readers have also been talented writers themselves, and have written in to describe how they imagined a story, or the play it happened to inspire. My words, interpreted by your words.

It’s a joy to see you run ahead. Where once I led, now I follow. 

image

Image credit: sadly unknown

You might have missed some of these fantastic (and often very arousing) vignettes. So here are the best collected together: an anthology of reader experiences, grouped by the story that inspired them.

Inspired by Coming of Age

  • Warming Ice – “I felt transported to her office, as if I were on that couch watching the scenes unfold.”
  • Over my pillows – “I laid over a pile of pillows on my bed, my laptop in front of me. In my right hand I gripped the handle of my hairbrush. I don’t think I’ve ever held it quite that tightly before…”

Inspired by Sandalwood and Ginger

  • Hands off myself – “I eagerly chased my pleasure, imagining someone whispering in my ear that I was a good girl, while my bottom was bared and figged.”
  • Spanked and Figged – “I pushed the ginger all the way in… deeply… my bottom hole opened and accepted the ginger plug.. and I gasped at the sensation.”

Inspired by Inevitable

  • Inevitably – “I don’t know where to begin or what to describe first. How wet it has made me. How badly I want to be in that room!”

Inspired by Ups and Downs

  • Limbo – “I imagine him inspecting me, the thrill of being so intimately scrutinized by such a meticulous mind.”

Inspired by Punishment Panties

  • Lexi’s Story – “I touched myself all night that night – rubbing in slow circles, parting my lips, touching all the places that were tender and sore, exploring myself like never before.”
  • Spanked at bedtime – “At this very moment, I am wearing only a thin towel. Just finished drying my hair… & the towel just fell to the floor. Strange isn’t it? That I am fully and completely naked typing to you right now. Baring my skin, baring my soul.”
  • Torment and Joy – “I can’t help but try to stimulate myself, pushing on and rubbing at the tight bundle over my clit, searching for any way to get my fingers inside myself to no avail, simply adding to my torment.”
  • Memories – “Best friends who tenderly explored each other’s most secret folds before we were told that it was naughty, is something that I intimately remember from my childhood. This was the root of my first orgasm while reading the story.”
  • I’m Disgracefully Damp – “There, I said it: I, Alex, have cum so many times to the point that my panties are translucent and clinging, and I’ve only devoured Chapter 4.”
  • A story of Me – “I too had a partner in crime, we would have so many adventures in her basement together when we were young and just starting to explore ourselves, although we were never caught.”

Inspired by Lupercalia

  • A little confession – “I had the story on my mind all day, till I got home.  As soon as I got in, I locked my door and stripped down to my panties.”
  • I Got What I Deserved – “The way Miss made Jenny feel like a clumsy child is almost verbatim the emotions that tutor inspired in me so many years ago.”

Inspired by Abstract Art

  • Confession of a spanking lesson – “I took the ruler and stroked the edge of it along my inner thighs and on my bottom. It made me shiver with pleasure. I smacked along with the story. My bottom stung and I did the bend over dance as each blow fell harder and harder.”
  • Comment of the Month – “Holy shit this is exactly what I masturbate fantasizing about. Naughty girls being spanked in front of their class… maybe a little more.”

Inspired by Throne of Shame

  • A Feisty Princess – “He made the girls “ride” the “horse” (again, horribly embarrassing and, thus, terribly arousing).”
  • Exciting, Painful, Arousing – “Around two months ago, he discovered me reading Throne of Shame and touching myself- he was quite intrigued, to say the least.” 

Inspired by Carrot and Stick

  • Brand New Eyes – “Before I stumbled across this site, I had never really understood the appeal of spanking…”

Inspired by Waiting

  • My Waiting Game – “I know the rules. No peeping. No taking off the blindfold til I’m told. And I’m definitely not allowed to cum.”


And if the idea of sharing your experience and arousing thousands of eager minds around the world excites you, don’t forget, we’d all love to hear from you

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