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Spanking Theatre

Spanking stories for the theatre between your ears

Month

June 2016

Election Day

spankingtheatre:

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…

Keep reading

With Britain convulsed by political tremors, an opportune moment to repost this short story methinks. A reminder that sometimes, for some people, the lure of mischief is just too strong…

[Story link]

Election Day

spankingtheatre:

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…

Keep reading

With Britain convulsed by political tremors, an opportune moment to repost this short story methinks. A reminder that sometimes, for some people, the lure of mischief is just too strong…

[Story link]

Written almost 400 years ago, never more appropriate. I’m for Remain.

Written almost 400 years ago, never more appropriate. I’m for Remain.

Inspected and Figged

An anonymous reader writes:

For yesterday’s “naughty game”, I decided
to enlist the help of a partner. He seemed pretty delighted when I asked
him to choose one. Somehow, though, he seemed to temporarily forget how
to count and elected to choose not one, but three. He sent me a message first
thing in the morning to tell myself to prepare for the “Inspections for Girls” game, followed by “Bottom Inspection” and “Figging”. I’m not
unfamiliar with ginger, and my past experiences have been incredibly
painful, so I was both excited and terrified by the prospect.

Now, I’m pretty much entirely comfortable with myself
around this partner. So I didn’t think he could make me feel *that*
embarrassed just by looking at me. How wrong I was. He started by having
me stand on a stool in the middle of the room whilst he stared intently
at my body. He touched my breasts and squeezed my nipples whilst
commenting on how nice they are (I’m not good at receiving
compliments!). He was extremely formal about everything – the way he
spoke, the way he positioned me, the way he took his time examining
every detail, even the way he touched me…

Then he helped me off the stool,
and asked me to lie on the bed. Then he asked me to pull my feet towards
my bum and spread my knees. Like a gynaecological exam. I was hesitant,
but he stood authoritatively over me and waited until I did. The silent
stare eventually became more intimidating than having to open my legs.
He proceeded to gently stroke my outer labia and my mound – both
extremely sensitive areas for me. I wanted to buck my hips and squirm
but I didn’t dare move. I know exactly how hard he can slap my inner
thigh if he wants to reprimand me, and I wasn’t going to risk that!

Suddenly he pulled away and disappeared somewhere behind my
head. Then I heard the sound of latex medical gloves. Again with the
formality. It felt clinical, unemotional. As though he was simply
looking at a body, with no sexuality involved at all. When he came back,
he began to run his fingers around my inner labia and the outside of my
vagina. Then inside my vagina. Just one finger. Clinical. Prodding it.
Commenting on how open it was.

He searched for my g-spot, but once he
was sure that he had identified it he lingered just long enough to test
my reaction before pulling out. Then – and I have no idea how he did it –
he spent an age examining my clitoral hood without touching my clit at
all. I was so desperate. But I still did not dare to move. When he
finally touched my clit, it was too much. I started to move in towards
his finger. But I still couldn’t look him in the face.

Suddenly, in an unexpected deviation from the plot, he was
on top of me. I still felt so ashamed of my arousal that I found it
difficult to accept. But I liked that. Within no time, I had relaxed, my
head was exploding and my whole body was tingling.

At that point, I thought that he had forgotten about
the second part of the game. But no. Apparently he just wanted me to
have an orgasm first so that the sensations would be all the more
sensitive. He instructed me to pile up some pillows on the edge of the
bed and to bend over them.

Then he began the bottom inspection. This was
somehow easier. I didn’t feel as exposed. At least, not until he put
his gloves on again, unceremoniously lubed me up and stuck his fingers
in there. One by one. Commenting on how eager my bum was to swallow
them. Thankfully,  he didn’t linger for as long. Instead, he took his
time circling a piece of ginger around my anus. The tingling felt
so good. I was able to sexualise the pain far more effectively than I
have in the past, and I put that down to the way that he made me
feel. My bum was basically begging for the ginger to be put in there.
And in it went. And I instantly felt light-headed. I was floating.

But he wasn’t finished. He got a cane out, and he told me
that I was going to receive six, and that I was to count them and ask
for each one. Of course, the first strike put me in such an intensely
pleasurable space that I promptly forgot everything that he had said. I
didn’t even comprehend the reason for the long silence because I was
revelling in the sensations flooding across my body and mind. As a
result, I got an extra one added to my sentence. The next five went much
the same as the first, each one washing across my body like the first.

As I went to ask for my final one, he told me that he wanted me to ask
for it *very* hard and in my crease. I wanted it, and there was no
hesitation. The pain felt so good. As he struck, I came.

And that’s when
he produced the second piece of ginger, carved into a crescent moon
shape. Once he had inserted it into my pussy, it just took a slight
wiggle for it to make my g-spot and my clit tingle simultaneously. As
you can imagine, my orgasms became uncontrollable from that point on…


Thank you, dear reader, for this delightfully evocative account of your playtime. In the naughty games I’ve always wanted to create activities that can be enjoyed by both single players alone and couples together. So I’m happy to hear you had such a great orgasms, and loved how you cleverly chained them together to create such a memorable experience! Along with the randomness of the hat, combining games is another idea readers might like to try for themselves…

Inspected and Figged

An anonymous reader writes:

For yesterday’s “naughty game”, I decided
to enlist the help of a partner. He seemed pretty delighted when I asked
him to choose one. Somehow, though, he seemed to temporarily forget how
to count and elected to choose not one, but three. He sent me a message first
thing in the morning to tell myself to prepare for the “Inspections for Girls” game, followed by “Bottom Inspection” and “Figging”. I’m not
unfamiliar with ginger, and my past experiences have been incredibly
painful, so I was both excited and terrified by the prospect.

Now, I’m pretty much entirely comfortable with myself
around this partner. So I didn’t think he could make me feel *that*
embarrassed just by looking at me. How wrong I was. He started by having
me stand on a stool in the middle of the room whilst he stared intently
at my body. He touched my breasts and squeezed my nipples whilst
commenting on how nice they are (I’m not good at receiving
compliments!). He was extremely formal about everything – the way he
spoke, the way he positioned me, the way he took his time examining
every detail, even the way he touched me…

Then he helped me off the stool,
and asked me to lie on the bed. Then he asked me to pull my feet towards
my bum and spread my knees. Like a gynaecological exam. I was hesitant,
but he stood authoritatively over me and waited until I did. The silent
stare eventually became more intimidating than having to open my legs.
He proceeded to gently stroke my outer labia and my mound – both
extremely sensitive areas for me. I wanted to buck my hips and squirm
but I didn’t dare move. I know exactly how hard he can slap my inner
thigh if he wants to reprimand me, and I wasn’t going to risk that!

Suddenly he pulled away and disappeared somewhere behind my
head. Then I heard the sound of latex medical gloves. Again with the
formality. It felt clinical, unemotional. As though he was simply
looking at a body, with no sexuality involved at all. When he came back,
he began to run his fingers around my inner labia and the outside of my
vagina. Then inside my vagina. Just one finger. Clinical. Prodding it.
Commenting on how open it was.

He searched for my g-spot, but once he
was sure that he had identified it he lingered just long enough to test
my reaction before pulling out. Then – and I have no idea how he did it –
he spent an age examining my clitoral hood without touching my clit at
all. I was so desperate. But I still did not dare to move. When he
finally touched my clit, it was too much. I started to move in towards
his finger. But I still couldn’t look him in the face.

Suddenly, in an unexpected deviation from the plot, he was
on top of me. I still felt so ashamed of my arousal that I found it
difficult to accept. But I liked that. Within no time, I had relaxed, my
head was exploding and my whole body was tingling.

At that point, I thought that he had forgotten about
the second part of the game. But no. Apparently he just wanted me to
have an orgasm first so that the sensations would be all the more
sensitive. He instructed me to pile up some pillows on the edge of the
bed and to bend over them.

Then he began the bottom inspection. This was
somehow easier. I didn’t feel as exposed. At least, not until he put
his gloves on again, unceremoniously lubed me up and stuck his fingers
in there. One by one. Commenting on how eager my bum was to swallow
them. Thankfully,  he didn’t linger for as long. Instead, he took his
time circling a piece of ginger around my anus. The tingling felt
so good. I was able to sexualise the pain far more effectively than I
have in the past, and I put that down to the way that he made me
feel. My bum was basically begging for the ginger to be put in there.
And in it went. And I instantly felt light-headed. I was floating.

But he wasn’t finished. He got a cane out, and he told me
that I was going to receive six, and that I was to count them and ask
for each one. Of course, the first strike put me in such an intensely
pleasurable space that I promptly forgot everything that he had said. I
didn’t even comprehend the reason for the long silence because I was
revelling in the sensations flooding across my body and mind. As a
result, I got an extra one added to my sentence. The next five went much
the same as the first, each one washing across my body like the first.

As I went to ask for my final one, he told me that he wanted me to ask
for it *very* hard and in my crease. I wanted it, and there was no
hesitation. The pain felt so good. As he struck, I came.

And that’s when
he produced the second piece of ginger, carved into a crescent moon
shape. Once he had inserted it into my pussy, it just took a slight
wiggle for it to make my g-spot and my clit tingle simultaneously. As
you can imagine, my orgasms became uncontrollable from that point on…


Thank you, dear reader, for this delightfully evocative account of your playtime. In the naughty games I’ve always wanted to create activities that can be enjoyed by both single players alone and couples together. So I’m happy to hear you had such a great orgasms, and loved how you cleverly chained them together to create such a memorable experience! Along with the randomness of the hat, combining games is another idea readers might like to try for themselves…

Daremaster Announcement

I’ve just received a message from daremaster that his blog has been unexpectedly terminated by Tumblr (see his posting on the subject). This is sad news indeed, DM is a blogger who has enriched our little community, not only with some wonderfully devious playtime ideas but also with respectful and helpful advice to those who followed.

Fortunately he’s restarted a new blog, so I encourage all those who enjoy  naughty games and imaginative kinky play to refollow his new blog.

Daremaster Announcement

I’ve just received a message from daremaster that his blog has been unexpectedly terminated by Tumblr (see his posting on the subject). This is sad news indeed, DM is a blogger who has enriched our little community, not only with some wonderfully devious playtime ideas but also with respectful and helpful advice to those who followed.

Fortunately he’s restarted a new blog, so I encourage all those who enjoy  naughty games and imaginative kinky play to refollow his new blog.

Are you truly a man? I had always thought the author and owner of this account to be a woman but recently I have seen people refer to you as sir?? I am confused.

Interesting that you’ve formed the impression of femininity from my words alone, I consider that a high compliment indeed. But those who’ve read my About page will already know my anatomical gender…

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