spankingtheatre:

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…

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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.”

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