spankingtheatre:

A Spanking Story

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Image by Katou Kahoru (source unknown)

Regency England, 1817

Serena
raised the hem of her candy-striped skirt to her hips, and hovered over
the little ebony stool, as her Mistress looked on encouragingly.

“That’s
a good girl! Mister Cholmondeley and his wife will be here soon. You
know how proud I am to have you kneeling at my feet.”

Beneath her
elegant dress, Serena was wearing nothing else. Her underwear having
been confiscated when she’d first arrived at Althorp House. At the time
she’d protested vociferously, a bit too petulantly as it happened. A
little tizzy that had cost her all her clothes, and ended with her being
spanked like a silly little girl over the knee of her Ladyship, and
being put to bed with a very sore bottom indeed.

That first night,
Serena had wept into her own pillows, distraught at the prospect of
having to spend the summer in this horrible place. In subsequent days
she’d discovered just how seriously her hostess believed in discipline.
The house rules were numerous and byzantine, but there was only ever one
punishment for breaking them: a good hard spanking, on the bare bottom.

At
first, Serena behaved as if she had a choice when it came to following
her instructions – a delusion her new mistress had found cheerfully
endearing. But in the three weeks since she’d arrived here, Serena’s
obedience had improved considerably. When she’d first been introduced to
the stool, she’d resisted bitterly, of course. But now she welcomed the
firm deep push of its double protrusions, and would take her seat
without complaint. In fact, Serena couldn’t remember the last time she’d
sat upon a proper chair.

There was a knack to mounting this low
dildoed stool, which Serena felt she’d now mastered. The trick, she’d
found, was to straddle it, and lower herself until she felt the slick
head of smaller stem poke against her bottom hole. Then she’d allow
herself to sink ever deeper, until she could feel the bulge of its head
stretch her open and push inside her. As she sank ever lower, the
thicker bulge of the other phallus would intrude between her slit,
probing her wet entrance like an over-eager lover.

Serena
continued her slow descent to the floor, until her knees were embedded
in the lush velvety softness of the salon’s dark carpet. She stifled a
moan as the protrusions penetrated deeper and deeper, stretching her
wider and filling previously unfelt spaces. At that point Serena would
be sitting on her haunches, her bright red shoes on either side of the
stool’s tiny legs, with her bare bottom resting on the narrow wooden
platter that formed its seat.

Once seated, she’d let go of her
dress, allowing her hem to fall to the floor like a finale’s stage
curtain, completely concealing the stool and its intimate protrusions.
Any visitor subsequently arriving would be completely unaware that just
beneath her pretty striped dress, both her holes were filled by dildoes.
Visitors would simply see what they expected to see, a beautiful young
lady kneeling adoringly at her Ladyship’s feet.

Keep reading

Pride and Obedience was an opportunity for me to travel back in time, and write a spanking story set in the Regency era. Most readers will have encountered this world through the novels of Jane Austen, which give the impression of a chaste, modest, almost sexless world. But let’s no forget, de Sade’s groundbreaking erotic novels were written around 40 years earlier. Perhaps this age wasn’t as innocent as it seems…

Perhaps the social hierarchies of the aristocracy were sexual hierarchies too, where paying proper respect to those higher on the social ladder involved a degree of sexual submissiveness. Perhaps this wasn’t just an age of long skirts and strict manners, but also one of whips, obedience and discipline. What would such a world look like? I couldn’t help but visit it, through the time machine of my imagination.

Whilst researching I stumbled across the image by Katou Kahoru shown above, and knew immediately how that cruel double-protrusion obedience stool would fit within the story. I think many of those with submissive inclinations would love to kneel at the feet of their Master or Mistress, impaled and filled as their hair is gently stroked.

What do you think?