A spanking story, for Christmas
Do you know what it’s like to be spanked in public?
You might think the bystanders would interrupt, outraged at the indecency.
But they don’t.
And they watch.
They are mesmerised by my nudity, their gaze ensnared by the curves of my cheeks, fascinated by the bright pink patches that suddenly appear.
They are captivated by the sound, that slow one-handed clap, that erotic rhythm, underlaid by my plaintive little moans. Because the sound of a bottom smacking is unique, and as seductive as a siren’s song.
I know this because I’ve been spanked in public countless times. In library aisles. In gloomy bars. On golden beaches. On garden lawns and under trees in parks. Often on the bare, always in front of disbelieving eyes.
But you never forget your first time.
Ah, now you’re curious, aren’t you?
Are you imagining me?
Bending over and exposed, about to get what naughty girls deserve.
Say it with me, under your breath.
I deserve a good spanking.
It feels good, doesn’t it?
I deserve a long, hard spanking.
Say it like you mean it.
And I’ll tell you my story…
It may have a Christmas setting, but Sandalwood and Ginger is really a story about masks we wear, about the secret desires we keep hidden, and what might happen if someone appeared in your life to make them real.
The Ginger part of the title, as you might expect, refers to figging, the exquisite torment of a burning heat inside a spanked bottom. The Sandalwood is more Proustian, a sweet aromatic scent that invokes memories, a trigger for latent carnal cravings.
So, for those yet to read it, I do hope you’ll enjoy this tale of masked balls, gyno inspections, panty-gags, public spankings, ginger plugging and good old-fashioned slipperings. Whatever the time of year.