An anonymous reader writes:

I took a deep breath and bit my lip. I was sitting on my bed, staring at the small ottoman a few feet in
front of me. I couldn’t believe I was actually about to go through with this. I took another deep breath and
decided to try putting myself in the position.

I bent down and laid myself over the ottoman, my bottom
raised the highest. Then, I spread my legs so that I would be straddling it. It was extremely uncomfortable
since the edges of the ottoman were digging into me, so I got a pillow that I could easily cover the
ottoman with. Nothing too thick, but enough to make a difference. I bent back down, and found that this
was more comfortable. Okay, I thought to myself. It’s time to do this.

I stood back up and I looked down, my fingers trembling a little. I held my breath and took down my
pajama shorts. That wasn’t so bad! The anticipation really got to me, I think. With a little more ease and
butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I put my fingers in the waistband of my white bikini-style panties. I
could feel my breath a little shaky as I pulled them down to my ankles and stepped out of them…

My
bottom ached as the cool breeze from my fan blew on to them. I reached back and touched my cool
bottom, knowing it wasn’t going to stay like that. I bent down and I picked up my panties and shorts,
folding them and placing them neatly on the bed. Regardless of knowing this is a self-spanking
punishment, I knew my disciplinarian would put me over his knee and blister my bottom should I
embarrass him, by not living up to his expectations of me. You always fold your clothing neatly and
properly, his words echoed in my mind.

I placed the flat, thick wooden spatula (it really was more like a wooden
paddle) next to the ottoman. I straddled it, then slowly bent myself over so that my bottom was the
highest in the air, and the easiest target. I had my right arm down, holding for balance, and my feet barely
touched the floor. The ottoman was about knee high, but I had to push myself forward so that my bottom
could become my highest point.

I felt the fan once again, but this time the breeze touched all that would have been exposed
to him: my vulva felt cool against the breeze, the moisture made apparent. I could feel it tingle in the mild
breeze, and it ached but I ignored it. I didn’t have permission, and I wasn’t going off script.

Five minutes, I muttered to myself. I reached for my phone, setting a timer countdown for five minutes
and twenty seconds. I wanted to be as accurate as I could. I picked up the spatula, but my bottom
squirmed and I could feel myself ache as the realization of how long 20 seconds actually were dawned on
me. I allowed myself to squirm and ache, but I didn’t dare reach back. The anticipation drove me nuts!

Finally, the timer clicked to 5:00:00 and I laid down the first swat on my right cheek. I jumped slightly, as
it was harder than I meant, but I continued. I laid down a softer spank, enough to sting but not enough
to really hurt. I spanked my right cheek, then my left. I alternated between the cheeks, and really focused
on the areas of the highest part of my bottom. I started to squirm a little, the heat radiating in my cheeks
once the timer hit 4:15, but I kept going at the pace. It was about one every two seconds. I kept spanking
the same spots, and my focus remained on those spots.

Once the timer hit 4:00:00 I started going
lower. This time, I brought down the spatula a little harder. I worked my way from right to left. I kept the
pace going, and despite my groans and whimpers, I kept the strength the same as well. I am actually really
proud that I was able to do it. Once the timer hit 3:45 though, I decided to spank hard and swiftly, causing
myself to instinctively kick and squirm, but I managed to keep going.

When fifteen seconds were up, I moved lower. This time I was on the lowest part of my bottom cheeks. Not quite the sit spots. I
worked my way across again, but not hard. I was merely warming them with a sting each spank. I kept
going, a spank per second, until the timer hit 3:30, and I increased my strength. I spanked moderately
hard, attacking my bottoms, kicking and squirming slightly as I worked across my bottom again. I noticed
how hard it was for me to kick being over a tall ottoman. My bottom was spread wide, and in a way really
locked my legs in position.

I continued spanking, crying out a little, but I knew I needed to do a good job.
When the timer finally hit 3:00:00, I felt a relief, momentary only of course, as I knew the next area was
going to be my sit spots. I took my time. I slapped down the spatula, my bottom instantly burned to the
touch, going twice on each side. I worked on my outer left, to the inner left, then inner right, and outer
left. I kept this at a one every three second pace, but the sting and burn growing as I took my time. I
allowed the flicking of my wrist to provide the maximum, but my bottom aching at its touch. I continued
this, until I noticed the time at 2:10, then I bit my lip and slapped down the spatula hard and swiftly across
my sit spots. My feet shook in reaction, but I continued going.

Even at 2:00 with my bottom satisfactorily warmed, and I could feel the fan cooler and cooler as it
breezed over my exposed moisture. I could feel it getting intense, but I continued my spanking—knowing
it needed to happen. I started to spank the top of my thighs, just below my the crevice of my bottom, just
under the sit spots slowly but with a strength that left a burning impression on my bottom. I continued this
well into the time, allowing myself to slightly become numb into my repetition.

I could feel the fan
getting cooler, as my bottom got hotter—my vulva wet and aching. I didn’t realize that spankings aroused
me in a way. I could feel my face heating as I realized that if my disciplinarian ever straddled me over his
knee to better punish the center of my bottom and the parts usually neglected, nothing I ever said would
convince him that this truly wasn’t happening. He would certainly know, my moisture
would betray me, leaving its presence on his thigh and the thought of that embarrassed me.

Hell, the
thought of knowing I am bare and exposed, vulnerable and left to his mercy heated my cheeks even more.
I came back to the present, noticing that I now only had a minute left of my punishment. I took a
deep breath and put the spatula in my right hand, swinging swift and hard on my right cheek. I brought it
down enough to reignite the spanking a few minutes before. I focused on my right cheek, and then at
0:45, I brought it down rapidly and hard.

I spanked as hard as I’d ever done. I could feel the tears
brimming my eyes, but I am stubborn. I spanked all over my right cheek—the center, fullest parts all the
way down to my upper thigh. Once the timer hit thirty seconds, I brought the spatula down hard on my left side. I
didn’t do a ‘warm up’ because there was one more area I wanted to get before the timer hit. I focused hard
on my left cheek, the timer ticking to ten seconds. I fought hard to keep the tears at the brim, but finally I brought the spatula down on the inner part of my bottom and thighs. This area was awkward, but mostly
successful. My phone finally rang at 0:00:00 and I put the spatula down and just let myself lay over the
ottoman.

I could hear my disciplinarian’s words behind me.

“Why did you get this spanking? What do you get when
you’re being a naughty, little girl?”

He knows I hate saying it. I hate admitting it. I would always
respond, “I got this spanking because I was being naughty. When I am naughty, I will always get a bare
bottom spanking.” But that’s never the end of my spankings.

My disciplinarian doesn’t time my spankings. He makes me speak, because he knows I hate feeling
like a ‘naughty little girl’ as he calls me. He knows that by admitting it, I can’t deny it’s actually
happening.

When I finally got up, not rubbing my bottom despite the burning and aching, I walked into the
bathroom to grab my hand-held mirror. I turned my bottom, and put the mirror behind me, I was shocked at how
red my bottom was. Thankfully, I didn’t bruise my bottom, but it was the color of a medium pink, with
areas of darker pink in my lower part of my bottom. I was glad I hadn’t bruised myself — that is something I do NOT want. I was surprised though due to how close I was to
tears by the end. I put my hand to my bottom, and its warmth surprised me. I could feel my bottom
burning and desperate for a rubbing, but I knew I wasn’t done yet.

I could feel my vulva aching for a
rubbing as well, but knew I couldn’t. I bit my lip, ignoring the temptations—knowing that my lower stomach
fluttered with butterflies, my bottom burning, and my vulva tingling. I wanted so bad to relieve myself,
but I knew that since I didn’t have permission to rub after my punishment, that I wasn’t going to. I glanced
over and was thankful that I didn’t get my pillow wet. I could feel the moisture between my legs, but I bit
my lip and I grabbed my laptop. I had to finish the last part: writing my report on my spanking.

Overall, being bare bottom was extremely effective. Just baring my bottom heated my cheeks, and I
wanted to groan in embarrassment when I finally placed myself over the ottoman for the spanking.
Knowing that if my disciplinarian had actually been there, he’d not only see my bare bottom but everything else in between. The deviousness of this position was I couldn’t close my legs, I couldn’t clench my bottom shut to regain some form of power
back — no, it left me extremely vulnerable, and the fan was just making it worse. He would know
everything, without a word being said.

Also, I didn’t get a warm up or anything over my panties or shorts,
so being bare from the start allowed a different type of anticipation. When I am bare across a knee or
pillow, I can easily close my legs and hide everything. This time, it was different. In this position with my bottom high I felt vulnerable, a much easier target.

Another aspect
that was extremely effective, is what I’m doing right now. I’m sitting on a wooden chair (squirming of
course), bottom still bare, as I write a report detailing everything. The idea of writing this, on a spanked bottom brought a blush to my cheeks. This is an extremely effective punishment, I’ve already explained how hard I find it to say to
my disciplinarian, “When I am a naughty little girl, I get a bare bottom spanking”. But writing up my spanking brings my discipline to a whole new level. Not only do I have to admit I got a spanking, but describe it in full detail.

I do this, because I was trusted to do this assignment, and I know
the only way to do it is to do it correctly or else I don’t learn. As for the overall spanking, I feel that I
could have been stricter, but I feel that for my first directed spanking with instructions of only ‘bare
bottom, straddling the ottoman, five minutes with the wooden spatula’ that I did rather well.

Finally, something else I discovered as I’m writing this report is knowing that being bare bottom right
away and exposed (the prequel to the spanking), the vulnerability, and having to send this report to
another person, and knowing it could possibly be read by others is actually beneficial. It sparked a
thought that knowing how it affected me, may mean it should be a part of all my future punishments…
that is, should I be told by my disciplinarian.

Now that my punishment is finally over, I am going to rub my bottom and relieve the sting and aches of
myself so that I may be able to put my panties and shorts back on.

Thank you Sir, and I look forward to the next ‘assignment’ you have me do… even if I may tremble in the
moments leading up to it, as you have me expose myself and bend over. But I know I am thankful afterwards, despite my bottom aching and
burning.


Thank you, dear reader, for this wonderful submission.

I’ve had some questions recently asking for spanking assignments, and this is a wonderful example of how an imaginative mind can take the simplest of instructions and turn them into an intense, immersive experience. It’s also a wonderfully detailed piece of writing.

The individual who submitted this piece has told me they’d love to hear other readers comments on their disciplinary experience. So if you feel like reblogging this post, why not add a comment of your own. Was she punished properly? Did you appreciate her inventiveness? And… did reading about her self-spanking arouse you?