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…
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?“