Spanking Theatre

Spanking stories for the theatre between your ears


August 2017

A dream of infernal ravishment #2

This is part 2, part 1 is here, if you haven’t already, do read it first.

An anonymous reader continues:

My life is a delirious cycle of pleasure and pain. There’s the chamber
of light – where they test the limits of my self control. Many kind
pople in white coats, touching me, washing me, toying me, telling me
not to cum with others standing, watching, taking notes.

After I’m soaking, I’m always put back in my thin nightgown with my
chastity belt childishly secured. This device is slightly more torturous
than those I had read about, as there’s a small plug that fills my
front bottom that keeps me in a state of nearly constant arousal, yet
fully insures there’s nothing I can do about it. And then I can only lie there, dozing off and on… until He comes.

My days are spent with the monsters. These depraved creatures feed off the
sexual energy of humanity and pay highly for the pleasure – my
pleasure. My belt is removed, and suddenly before me is a door. I’m led
through. Torches line the pathway. The stone floor is cold beneath my
bare toes. From every direction comes the sound of sex: flesh against
flesh, whimpers, moans. Through the bars and curtains of each archway I
can see all manner of depraved things…

Two girls are being hung upside-down by their ankles with their legs tied apart whilst
a creature of impossible blackness teases them with his fiery forked
tongue. I remember the feeling of the tortuous heat in my own slit. I
had him all to myself once, and the wonders the double edges of his
tongue could produce make me wet at the memory.

Across the hall, three cells down, is another of my favorites. He is
pleasuring a young lady with his tentacle cock. The recollection of the
suckers of his purple member tugging on the intimate skin inside me make
my nipples grow hard under my thin lace gown.

But this time I’m led to the final chamber and chained in the stocks within. My wrists
locked in beside my neck and my ankles lashed to its frame. It’s an
extremely vulnerable position. Teasingly, there’s a mirror in the corner of this otherwise bare room, and if I move my neck just right I can see what’s
happening in the cell across from me.

She is naked. He is huge, and covered in dark hair, polished spikes running
down his back to the tip of his tail. He is holding her cheeks apart.
Inhaling deeply. I can see her humiliation in the form of tears. Yet her
arousal too is evident too by the way her crotch glistens in the torchlight.
My stomach flips as he turns, and I can see his massive cock brush
against her thigh.

The cool air teases my wet slit and the ache inside me grows. I long
to be filled by the masterpiece I see across the hall. Alas, it is for her, not me. He crouches against the wall and sits her on his lap. At
first letting his length rub against her slit. Then he disappears inside
her. Her pussy lips greedily swallowing him up entirety. He fucks her
harshly. Huge palms lifting her. For every moan she’s awarded an even
harder thrust. I cannot imagine being pounded in such a way.

I hear shuffling behind me; my own creature has arrived. He turns the
mirror so now all I have to look at is the grey of the floor and the
dreary walls. I feel cold breath on my neck. A webbed hand palms my crotch
roughly. I hear slurping as my dampness is sucked from me. I hear a high
laugh. A sharp fingernail slices my gown away. He spreads my cheeks, and his
thin tongue snakes into my bottom. I flush at the humiliation of what
he may find there.

He moves in front of me, and I catch a glimpse of him. Short. Bald. Large eyes. Small cock. He
thrusts into my mouth, his rhythm so fast I barely have time for breath. I
feel a tongue slither into my ass, taking me by surprise. There’s some
garbled conversation – it sounds likes there’s two of them. My mouth is fully of his
sticky ooze. It tastes of mildew. He’s a nimble little fellow. Fucking
my face with confidence. I shriek as my ass receives an unexpected slap.

I can distinguish multiple laughing voices.
Judging by the sting it felt like I’ve received a whack from a leather strap. When I was tested it was
noted that few stimuli made me drip like a good old-fashioned spanking.
My cunt is filled with the squirm of a tongue, whilst a pointed finger is
mercilessly flicking my clit. The cock is forced back into my mouth.
Something cold and very hard is coaxed into my ass hole. Both of my
nipples are being sucked hard.

I recoil from another slap. How many of them are there? Slap after slap. Heat
growing. I feel it building in my stomach. I can no longer keep quiet and moan into my mouthful. My cunt is writhing against the tongue. I
long to be filled to my brink, just like my neighbor. Liquid spurts into my mouth, and I swallow the load delivered.

There is chattering. My ass is emptied of its intrusion, and immediately refilled by a pointed wiggling finger. My slit is licked
clean. I taste myself as a tongue invades my mouth. Then I am entered, and entered, and entered again.

Now every hole is filled. There is more than one cock in my vagina. I should
not have underestimated them merely for being small. They fuck me, until exhausted, I cum.
Loudly. Prompting a squeal of the high giggles.

And then they scurry away, leaving my covered in their strange icky slime. Legs shaking. Humiliated. Used. The kind ones
return and I am unshackled. They have brought a chair where I can sit whilst I
am thoroughly washed. They wheel me back to my bed, where I lie exhausted, only then realizing that I was not belted. I ache with a sensation that might almost be disappointment…

Thank you, dear reader. I’ve received quite a few messages hoping your tale would be continued. I admire the direction you’re taking it, that the “monsters” are paying for the privilege, that the protagonist might be in some inter-dimensional brothel, or a captive in some far-future inter-planetary sex dungeon. Or some illicit experiment with genetically modified chimera that’s exploring the boundaries of primal pleasure. Or maybe something else entirely…

I’ve always thought that given the written word has an unlimited production budget, why shouldn’t one write about something fantastical? That’s what motivated me to write stories like Stolen Essence, Grimoire. and Inevitable.

The web is full of generic stories about seemingly chaste young ladies meeting strict Doms or secret Daddies, cue a bit of spanking and some unexpectedly pleasurable humiliation, then finish off with some “mind-blowing” orgasms. But that’s not really blowing anyone’s mind. We writers can do better than that.

With courage, we can write about absolutely anything, and craft scenes that make readers’ imaginations buzz with their sheer audacity. Scenarios that readers find unexpectedly arousing, and don’t really know why. That is art.

Keep up the great work.

today i was very bad about procrastination, so i decided to punish myself for it. i stripped down, put my laptop on my belly, and pulled up a spanking video. then, i lit a tea candle and placed it on my chest, it gives you a little thrill. i tied my wrists and ankles with dirty panties and remained still, squirming, and under the heat for the length of the video. then i poured hot candle wax all on myself. now i’m going to give myself a harsh spanking and corner time. any other suggestions?💓

Hmmm, what you’ve described sounds rather too pleasurable to me.

If you came to my office to be punished for procrastination, I’d give you a good hard spanking, then fetch a uncomfortably hard chair, and make you sit on your sore pink bottom to write a long essay on why important things need to be done on time. Then I’d have you post what you’ve written on your blog.

And afterwards, no playing. No touching at all. Not until I’d been convinced you’ve learned to take your responsibilities seriously.

I am very strict.

Hypothetically, what should happen to a girl who likes to lie back and rub whilst watching spanking videos?

Such a girl should be watching such videos properly. Not on her back with her fingers between her legs, but bending over, with her bottom bared. Watching properly means when the character on screen gets a spank, she delivers a smack to her her own bottom.

There is certainly no rubbing whilst the spanking is in progress, the very thought! A girl behaving in such a wanton manner deserves a good hard spanking. Hypothetically, of course.

Which reminds me, I have a draft in my notebook for an unpublished self-spanking challenge, one that explains how to watch videos. I think now might be a good time to post it

i was suuuper turned on by that submission about the monsters. would you do a part two? of her earning the demons cock or about the creatures shes led to? spanking makes me the wettest but the whole inhumane devils an their odd body parts an sex drives make my insides churn its so hot. i loved that story honestly-the medical stuff-loss of control-demon-bedpost-spanking-candle-monsters. so perfect im the one dripping now. literally ill beg please a part two?

Many have messaged me to say how much they enjoyed that delicious demonic fantasy. A second part would be welcomed, but I can not be the one to write it, as this dream springs from the imagination of another.

So I hope she reads this post, and realises how many other minds her words have stimulated. How many others she has excited, and left longing for more. And I hope she writes a second part, and shares it with us all.

In the meantime, those who enjoy the eroticism of demonic ravishment might enjoy this image

A dream of infernal ravishment #1

An anonymous reader writes:

I want to tell you about my dirtiest, darkest fantasy. Right now I’m
laying in bed. My panties are soaking wet and my stomach aches because
I just went through it all in my head and I’m so dangerously turned
on. But I decided I’d have to tell you about it first before I’m allowed
to do anything about the river between my legs.

It begins in a very clinical place. I’ve been captured and brought to some place,  bright, light and white. I awake in a room and a very
kind person (their gender irrelevant) is washing me. I am naked.

They notice I’m awake and begin a thorough examination, they
explain that I am here to serve a purpose. During these tests I am not
allowed to cum. I am fingered and toyed with objects of various
shapes, lengths and textures – in my ass, vagina, mouth, on my nipples and clitoris. Finally I am set onto a machine and made to ride and
ride, whilst many people are watching and taking notes, until I’m sure
I’m about to burst.

When they see I can stand it no longer I’m led into a chamber of
complete darkness. Cleansed of my great dampness, dressed in a thin
nightgown and tied to a bed so I cannot relieve myself. I fall asleep.
In the fog of dreams and reality I am visited by an incubus. I can’t
see anything but there are hands everywhere. It is warm and there are
many voices.

I’m soon soaked again. I am filled and emptied repeatedly all while the most salacious things are whispered in my ear. The demon hisses, warning me not to cum. In
that darkness I’m untied and made to ride the bedpost (yeah, I’ve come a
long way since boarding school). I can’t help myself. The cool of the
bulbous metal bedpost, the ache in my calves, the flicking of the
demon’s tongue on my clit, the hands on boobs, in my mouth… and I cum.
Loudly, painfully, shaking the bed as I do…

of the heat and whispers rush away at once. And I am left in the silent
darkness dripping on my bedpost wondering what comes next. I broke their
one rule. After several heartbeats I am hoisted off the post and guided onto a
decorative hook adorning the bottom of the bedframe. My ass is high in the chill air, my feet can barely touch the floor, my face rests on the mattress,
my vagina penetrated by the curve of the hook.

I wait. But nothing happens. I squirm enjoying the hook against my g-spot. I stupidly
think perhaps I’ve been disqualified and will simply be allowed to satisfy
myself. The mattress creaks as I rock forcing the curve further inside
me. Then out of nowhere. A hand is on my ass. A finger following the hook into my heat.

I hear a growl of disgust. The incubus has returned. I sense he is displeased
by my wetness. I feel breath between my cheeks. My dripping slit is
sucked clean around the protrusion penetrating me. For the first time I
allow myself to be swallowed by humiliation. He hisses into my ear that I
should have obeyed my warning. I would have known pleasure like no
other if I had but now, there would be pain.

It begins. Slowly. A caress. A harder slap. Something is plunged into
the unfilled hole between my cheeks and I’m filled with fiery pain.
Clenching provides no relief. There is a cock in my mouth. Sharp fingers
pinch my nipples. The curve of the hook seems less pleasurable now, yet still I gush. The hand lays a volley of hard smacks and with each I’m forced further onto the hook of the bed. My legs kicking. I’m sucked dry. After a
couple more minutes, fear tears through me as I soak myself, and worry
what will happen if I cum again.

Heat builds as each beat fills me with pain, that’s soon overtaken by pleasure. I
resolve to hold on to my dignity. This time I will not disobey. His slaps
turn again to caresses. I am lifted. My ass, mouth and crotch are
emptied. He places me gently on the bed. I face his though it is too
dark to see. He spreads my legs. His impossibly long tongue snakes
inside me. My nipples are nibbled, my mouth is filled. I hear the sound
of a match. A sulphurous smell. A nearby candle flickers into life.

Now, I see him. He is both beautiful and ugly. I also see that we’re not alone.
There is a hoard. One has his thick cock in my mouth. One has my
nipples between his pointed teeth. Another slips his tongue from my
slit. A pair are holding apart my legs. The candle he holds is thick. I
see immediately what he means to do with it, and I begin to squirm. I
am pulled until I face him with my other set of lips.

He holds my back with one hand as the other slides the immense candle
into my waiting depths. Searing wax drips onto my freshly shaved mound.
He says something I do not understand, I am helpless, able only to lie there, gazing into
his burning eyes as I’m ravaged by his hoard.

Later, I am led naked down a long hallway glimpsing
through each passing doorway a different creature defiling a human being
in a myriad of ways. A hoard of small winged beasts are buzzing inside
the crotch of a redhead. A mammoth creature is nearly splitting a raven
haired girl with his slimy tentacle. A double-dicked man-dog is fucking
a blonde…

Then depending on my mood I imagine the monster I am led to. And what he
does to me. All while being watched by the demon. I am rewarded by his
candle when I do right, and spanked harshly in the darkness when I displease.
One day though, I hope I will earn his cock.

Now if you’ll excuse me… I have
something to attend to…

[…Continued in part 2…]

Thank you, dear reader, for this wonderful submission!

I do love reading the fantasies of others, especially those written whilst aroused. Sitting in soaked, sticky panties, words flowing rapidly from your fevered mind to your fingertips, knowing that soon you’ll be finished, and you’ll be able to relieve the ache between your legs. It’s an exquisite kind of denial, like writing an essay in detention, whilst still on a spanked bottom you’re desperate to rub.

Your post brings to mind the fantastical imaginings of Hieronymus Bosch, dark visions of infernal punishment performed by demons and surreal chimeras. I liked how you were rewarded in the light, but disciplined in the dark. You seem to be in some erotic purgatory, slowly discovering how obedience and sexual submissiveness will lead you to the light.

I enjoy darkly gothic fantasies, a theme I’ve written about in several previous stories, like Fall and Stolen Essence. The idea that eroticism is a dark and mighty magic, with the power to bend reality. Which, in a sense, it is.

So I hope you’ll continue to visit the demon in your imagination, dear reader. Your lust may yet reveal the true nature of you both. That angels and demons are just labels we use. That one can not live without the other. That being violated and defiled, or ravished and pleasured involve exactly the same physical sensations. Are they really monsters, or just new lovers in crude and unfamiliar forms?

Your imagination grants access to boundless possibilities.

And if others would like to share their own fantasies with your fellow readers, please do. Feel free to submit or email (spankingtheatre at gmail dot com)

Weird. Dirty. Perverted. They’re just words used by the timid.

Carrot and Stick


It all began with a half-stifled gasp.

Stepping quietly down the hall, he’d been on his way to bed when he’d heard the tell-tale rustling from behind her bedroom door. The barely audible rhythmic creaking, and those little moans that can’t be muffled.

Or, thought of another way, it all began earlier that day, as she’d been kept behind for after-school detention. Later that night, as she lay in bed, memories of the experience bubbled back into her empty mind. She recalled how she’d childishly provoked Miss Summers by facetiously scrawling her detention essay in the style of a cranky 7 year old. In response, the normally mild-mannered Miss Summers had taken her completely by surprise by putting her over her knee and tugging down her panties. Miss had then applied the ruler to her bare bottom until she really was acting like a silly little girl, crying and kicking and pleading.

Yet she had found the whole experience unexpectedly, unexplainably, unaccountably erotic. And in the darkness, as she lay stroking her tender cheeks, replaying what had happened, an itch had started. She knew she wasn’t allowed to play with herself on a school night, but the itch had escalated into a throb. I’ll never get to sleep like this! she thought. Suddenly, rubbing became the lesser of two evils. Just as long as she wasn’t caught, of course.

Meanwhile, he lingered outside, silently listening.

Her reluctance to sit down on returning from school had prompted him to decree a bottom inspection, and he’d seen first-hand what a good job her teacher had done. Naturally, she’d have to be punished again at home for misbehaving at school, but he decided that could wait until her soreness faded.

The little gasps were quicker now; whilst she could stifle her delight, she couldn’t stifle her breathing. Not that the sounds from behind her door came as any surprise. In his experience, every girl who got her bottom spanked would pleasure herself afterwards. It was a natural law, a universal principle, energy can not be created or destroyed, only transformed; and so the erotic energy delivered to a spanked bottom would have to be expressed somehow.

Some couldn’t wait, immediately dashing to the loo to try and rub the pain away. Whilst some waited until they were in bed later that night, savouring their discomfort, feeling the warmth in their bottom ebb between their legs. Whilst others would wait even longer, ruminating on the shame and embarrassment for days, even weeks, before finally releasing themselves volcanically when they could bear it no more…

Keep reading

What readers have said about this story:

“This story absolutely enthralled me, reading it, I was lost to the world around me. After I finished, I
stood up and was surprised to find my legs weak and my panties soaked. For the
rest of the day this story, and my ruined panties, dominated my mind.“

“Amazing writing, one of the only long stories I’ve actually stopped and
read all the way through. It got me so, so horny that when my Daddy called
me I whimpered and whined until he said I could touch myself. When I came, I came hard.“

“This is already a favorite of mine, my cunt aches, desperate to be fucked, whenever I imagine myself in her
place… thoroughly inspected after administering my own
discipline, all while pleading for modesty. I’m aching now, thinking about it…“

“So perfect! I wish this was my life.”

What do you think?

The Bottom Smacking Machine


There was just the merest space between the bookshelf and the chest of drawers. Just enough to slide a few sheets of paper between them.

Or wedge in a ruler.

She called it her Bottom Smacking Machine.

Though that name did somewhat overstate its complexity. An engineer would know it as a lever, just a beam and a fulcrum, one of the very simplest machines. A mechanism known since antiquity, now appropriated to impart pain and pleasure. A Bottom Smacking Contrivance.

She’d thought it strange when he’d first instructed her to search her house for a narrow gap between two heavy objects. The gap had to be narrow enough to hold in place a few sheaves of paper, and have space to stand either side of it. And two sides of the gap had to be more or less flush with each other.

Eventually she found one.

When she reported back, he instructed her to wedge her thick plastic ruler into the gap – just up to the 8 centimetre mark, and leave the rest jutting out. And put it just below waist height.

Suddenly, his intentions became very clear.


She had been so very, very naughty.

And he was such a long, long way away.

Some means of discipline would have to improvised.

Or standards would slip.

And that would be just unacceptable.

That night, at home alone, she heard her phone chirp.

A new message. From him.

By now the distinctive sound that heralded his messages had a Pavlovian effect, bringing a dampness to both her pairs of lips.

The message was an admonishment of her naughtiness, and a pronouncement of her sentence: a visit to her bottom smacking machine. 30 whacks on each cheek.

She cursed his strictness, but really wished he was here to discipline her himself.


By now she was well rehearsed with her punishment protocol, and began to make her preparations with an eagerness that suggested it was a sanction she secretly quite enjoyed. First, she had to decide on a setting, and dress accordingly. She had considered donning her pyjamas, and acting out a bedtime spanking before being put to bed. She also thought of wearing her skinniest thong bikini, and pretending to be a Roman galley slave, being whipped under a merciless sun.

In the end though, she decided to wear her school uniform, and to imagine herself reporting for after-school detention to find her teacher holding a ruler. She lay on her bed, a hand inside her panties, imagining all the details. Joining the back of the queue, she would watch her classmates being called forward, one by one, to pull down their knickers…

Keep reading

What readers have said about this story:

“Very cleverly done and an example of how inventive we can really be when we’ve got an itch that we really want to scratch.“

“A stirring tale, one that really captures the fantasy and makes it new again.“

“I enjoyed how she incorporated her fantasies, even dressing the part, as
she did as he’d instructed. Clever way to end it as well.“

“You could almost hear her heart beat in anticipation as you built up this scene. Excellent writing.“

“Very inventive. I wonder how many of your readers are actually trying this?“

What do you think?

Dancing from the ceiling

An anonymous reader writes:

Hi I just needed to share this with you. My bf/Dom and I are in the process of moving bc of his work (I work for a company that has offices nationwide so I can move pretty much anywhere). Anyway, he had been away for almost 3 weeks and I was under strict orders not to play with myself while he was gone. I didn’t really follow those orders because sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do lol Well he came up with a new discipline, sort of from mixing punishment panties and the sit-down dance and how we already do it.

Instead of completely undressing me like he would for a spanking he left my panties on and tied my arms up to the ceiling. Then he took two pieces of rope and ran one through the legs holes of my panties and up my back and tied it to the ceiling hook then the other piece of rope the same way but on the front so ‘they’ll stay as tight as I want them.’

He then gave me the most pleasurable spanking I have ever received. We’ve done punishment panties and spanking together before but there was nothing like have that little bit of swing from being tied up to the ceiling and the pressure of the panties against my clit. I told him next time we might have to try with a plug or bullet vibe to see if I can orgasm during my dance.

Also – don’t let him know – but I might start misbehaving on purpose if this is the punishment now 😉

Thank you very much for your submission, dear reader. It’s lovely to hear the two of
you are having such fun, and I’m sure readers of this blog will enjoy
imagining you as you dangle from the ceiling with your panties pulled
so tight. Your tiptoes hovering just above the floor as you squirm, dancing to the beat of every delicious spank…

Birthday Surprise


A story of strict women and naughty boys

“You wanted to see me, Miss?”

“Yes, young man! Your recent behaviour in class has been disgraceful! And you know what happens to naughty boys in this school…”

“Yes, Miss. They’re spanked, Miss.”

“A good hard spanking, on their bare bottoms.”

“Oh Miss! Can’t I be excused? Just this once? It is my birthday!”

“Is it now? Then it seems appropriate you get your spanking in your birthday suit.”

“Oh no Miss!”

“Everything off, fold them neatly in a pile.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Now kneel in front of the coffee table. Hands behind your back.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Time to shed this cumbersome old gown, I think.”

“Goodness Miss! You’re not wearing anything underneath!”

“Indeed, boy. Quite naked, apart from my favourite heels. And I see I’m making you pleasingly stiff.”

“Why yes Miss!”

“Now your headmistress is going to stand astride you, and place one of her feet on the table before you. See how I’m lifting my heel slightly, so there’s a gap between the sole of my foot and the slope of the shoe. That should be just wide enough for your stiff little penis. Slide it in.”

“Oh Miss!”

“On the table you’ll notice a nice leather paddle. Pick it up, please. In this school, we don’t waste our energy punishing our delinquents, all naughty boys must smack their own bottoms.”

“Can’t you…”

“Quiet, boy. Now reach back, and rub the paddle against your bare cheeks. That’s it. Now start spanking your bottom! Yes! And again. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

Keep reading

Continuing my alphabetical retrospective, Birthday Surprise employs a rather unusual style, told entirely in dialogue. It also features a woman spanking a man, a rarity in my stories. But this playful tale should appeal to all genders, especially those who enjoy roleplaying. Whilst naughty boys in particular might be tempted to send it to their mistress, with a mischievous accompanying note. “Some ideas for you, Miss?”

What readers have said about this story:

“I really enjoyed the fact the dialogue, it made me feel as if I was on my tip toes,
peeking in a window, watching two lovers reminiscing… and thoroughly
delighting in each other.“

“This story is so good, it’s practically a set of instructions. I think I’ll be getting a sore bottom tonight!“

“I’ve never read a spanking story where a man is being
spanked, and I’ve only seen a couple videos of it. Too often, it’s just someone
angrily berating the poor man, no real connection or even any kindness
at all. The penetration you described was far better than pegging! It’s
made me think about the different ways of playing with punishment, humiliation and power exchange. Consider me inspired!“

“I’d always considered myself a sub. But after reading this story, I’m beginning to wonder how much fun it might be to switch!”

What do you think?

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