Spanking Theatre

Spanking stories for the theatre between your ears


I deserve a good spanking

Panty-pulling in bed

An anonymous reader writes:

I’ve devised a punishment based around your story, Punishment Panties,
and, as you’re the inspiration, I thought it only fair to tell you (and
to add to the humiliation of the punishment). Basically, I needed a
punishment that could be done while my roommates were home with my door
somewhat open for my pets – so, silent and relatively undetectable but
still very much a punishment.

This lead me to my current
predicament: lying back in bed, with my dress hitched up and
my blankets pulled up, ribbons looped into my panties and tied to my
headboard. The ribbons are just long enough that I can lie down but
doing so causes my panties to gather between the cheeks of my arse and,
the further down I wiggle, pull tight up against my slit.

my punishment is for wasting my time on the internet (particularly on
the naughty side of tumblr) when I’m supposed to be doing work and
chores, I’ve been scrolling through my dash looking at all the naughty
posts but I’m not allowed to touch (not that I can, really, with how
tight my panties are currently). At the naughtiest posts, I get a little
squirmy and it pulls my panties tighter and increases the burning
between my thighs.

After I send this message, I’ll be allowed to
get up and untie my ribbons and pull my panties down. I’m going to do so
in front of the bathroom mirror, so I can see the little red stripe
that’s left.

Your stories never fail to inspire, thank you. 

An appropriate punishment, dear reader. And I hope the fact that your confession is going to be seen by thousands of readers will add further humiliation.

As you’ve already discovered, panty-pulling is an excellent punishment for those who lack sufficient privacy for a good spanking. A sore pink stripe between the legs rather than a sore pink bottom.

In a previous post I’ve described some other activities that you can perform discreetly. To these I’d also add the chastity belt, which can be worn under clothes in public. Having your mound and slit shaved completely bare is another act of self-discipline I encourage, providing a continuous reminder of your need for discipline every time you lower or raise your panties…

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.

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…

Adventures in self-spanking


An anonymous reader writes:

For this
, she decides to adopt the so-called diaper position.  She
wants to realize the benefits of the deep shame her Imaginary
Disciplinarian intends for her. She is to be displayed so he sees everything, her legs above her
head, her cunt and bottom hole presented for his appreciation as she lays upon her trundle

To do her Disciplinarian’s bidding, she chooses as her tool of choice a schoolroom implement, a long
wooden ruler. The “premise” for her
punishment, like most, is the young lady’s devotion to mischief and her
blatant, almost teasing, disregard for authority. It doesn’t help her cause that she
scampers around the house in her shortest of short pajamas ideally exposing her
most intimate areas to her
Disciplinarian’s eyes…

The thwack, thwack, thwack of each strike of the ruler offers
quite different sensations than other implements used for her
punishments.  This tool allows her to direct a symphony of light, crisp,
altogether delicious strokes to her ample posterior.  The diaper
position gives her the opportunity to reach some of her bottom’s
fleshier areas and – interestingly – some more tender, intimate regions as

As she continues to apply indiscriminate whacks upon her bottom, she
becomes increasingly aware of fascinating sensations originating from
her nether regions. These sensations in turn cause her to increase the
frequency and effort behind her strokes. Quite randomly, some of the
strokes miss her intended target and instead graze her cunt & bottom

Under normal circumstances, she would not be allowed to fiddle with
her wobbly bits or her bottom hole whilst a punishment is in progress, but
her aching cunt and the heartbeat pounding in her clitty dictate her
next choice. She succumbs to the unbearable need to have one of either
of her holes filled by introducing an extra large plug into her bottom

The insertion of such a plug causes her body to tremble
uncontrollably.  Already in a heightened state of awareness from the
abuse shown to her bottom, she instantly feels that familiar tickle
beginning in her toes, bubbling up uncontrollably, shooting through her
body like an electric current, finally passing out through the top of
her head, like a bird given flight from its cage. Her orgasmic
experience is one of euphoria, coupled with disappointment that she couldn’t teeter on that delicious edge for longer, before falling and submitting to her body’s
carnal desires.


And now, as she sits at her desk recounting these adventures in spanking… her
Rosebud Jewel still snug inside her little bottom hole… she contemplates the
deeper meaning of Life.

Yes. She’s quite pleased overall with her decision
to use a wooden ruler in the diaper position for Challenge Numéro 2.

Thank you, dear reader for this marvellous demonstration of self-spanking, and beautiful accompanying images. As you so evocatively describe, in this position your imaginary disciplinarian is sure to see everything.

You can almost imagine him (or her) sitting a few footsteps away, watching with quiet satisfaction as you spank yourself. You had thought your teasings would earn you a trip across the knee, but your disciplinarian saw through your little charade, surprising you by escorting you to your bed, tugging down your shorts and laying you on your back. You feel the ruler being pressed into your hand.

Your legs are lifted, so there can be no doubt what position you’re to be punished in. You lift the ruler obediently, and begin spanking yourself gingerly.

“Harder, girl.”

Your acquiescence is never in doubt. The smacking of the ruler grows louder in your ears. The sting in your bottom grows every more intense. In this position, your glistening, seeping excitement is indisputable.


The voice is stern but not malicious, serious about ensuring you receive the discipline you deserve.

You spank until your cheeks burn pink, until your arm is sore, until your disciplinarian finally rises from their seat to take the ruler from your hand. They kneel, their strong fingers spreading your bottom apart, feeling the heat of your spanking and inhaling the scent of your excitement.

Their fingers inspect you, intimately and thoroughly. Every wet fold, every sore tender blotch. Until their tracing fingertips spiral around your bottom hole. You sigh with frustration, wishing those fingers were circling your clit. But you know naughty girls are never masturbated.

Between your legs you see a glint in your disciplinarian’s hand. The jewel of your princess plug. You mew as its cold steel slides up and down the hot wet gap of your vagina; you wish it would linger, push deeper, but it’s merely here to gather your stickiness.

And now you feel its wet touch against your bottom hole. Circling, pushing, intruding, penetrating. You’re so close now. You try to hold back, trying to prove to your disciplinarian you’re a big girl now, that you can control yourself. But the plug unleashes a shockwave as it finally pushes through your tightest hole, an avalanche of sensations that makes the skin of your spanked bottom prickle as it cascades through every nerve.

Your body betrays you, deserting its orders, surrendering to the pleasure. You convulse, grasping your legs to your body as your orgasm shakes you, your gaping slit winking and then gushing. And your disciplinarian sees everything. Your shame is complete, and it was wonderful.

And you may well have inspired others to embark on self-spanking adventures of their own…

Standing in the Corner

An anonymous reader writes:

Yesterday, while returning from college I saw a girl standing in the corner of a first floor balcony with her hands over her head. I couldn’t stifle a giggle. I don’t know whether she heard me or not, but she must’ve sensed my presence, as she turned around and glared at me. She didn’t leave though, she just took down her hands from her head and continued to stand with her back to me.

I walked on but that memory remained. There could be a thousand innocent explanations for why she was standing like that – but in my mind it was corner time. My mind was whirling with possibilities. Had she already been spanked soundly and exiled to the corner by a stern disciplinarian … OR was the corner time merely a prelude to a stinging blush-inducing spanking? And what exactly had she done to deserve a spanking anyway…?

I just blushed and kept on wondering at the never-ending possibilities. But I did feel guilty for startling her like that. Poor girl, she must’ve been so embarrassed to hear me giggle. So I decided I must spank myself to atone for my rudeness. And since I’d laughed at a girl who was standing in a corner, I thought it only proper that I should spend a few minutes in the corner myself.

I decided to do corner time before spanking myself because I thought it’d prolong the agonizing anticipation. And it did. Those ten minutes were the most suspenseful moments of this year as yet for me. I’d closed my bedroom door and decided to draw back the curtain of one of the windows, one that had a full view of the street…

For ten whole minutes I tried to stand still with my hands on my head, fully clothed just like the young girl I’d seen. I was terribly on edge though – whenever I heard footsteps or sounds of passing cars I tensed up. Once I thought I heard a couple walk by because there were frenzied whisperings in two voices, one girlish and one hoarse and manly. I cringed. Were they pointing at me and laughing? Oh, if only I could hear the words they were saying! Finally the ten minutes were over and I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d really learnt my lesson. Corner time is nothing to giggle about.

There was still the matter of my spanking to consider. A pity she couldn’t witness that – she’d have been really really pleased to see my comeuppance. I got hold of a dark pink wooden hairbrush which had lurked for ages in a bottom drawer. I’d never thrown it away, even though I never use it to brush my hair. Maybe it was predestined for that one day I’d use it to smack my own bottom…

I placed myself on the edge of the bed one hand reaching behind me to touch my bottom with the edges of my hairbrush. I hadn’t taken down my panties yet – I wanted to savour the moment – the caresses of the bristles were so sensual, lighting a fire somewhere deep within me. Then I finally pulled down my panties, rearranged myself and tapped the brush on my bare cheeks.

I decided on 14 strokes, 7 on each cheek. I started by spanking my left cheek first as hard as I dared. It didn’t hurt so much but there was a fiery tingle, all the more intense for it made quite an impact. Six more till the left cheek was done. I spanked myself slowly trying to maintain a nice even rhythm. DONE. Now for the right cheek. This cheek didn’t throb and tingle like the other one so I spanked it twice as hard, taking my time till I reached 7 spanks.

Now that I’ve finished, I’ve decided to write this immediately while my smacked bottom is still tingling. I’m writing all this while sitting on a hard straight-backed chair. I’m excited and frantic with arousal which is making me fidget a lot.

Anyway, thanks a lot for an inspiring playtime. Because of your stories, I now imagine erotic possibilities everywhere – even in mundane, everyday sights. I’ve never spoken to that girl I saw, or even met her before that fateful day, but I really hope that one day she’ll read this post and recognise her predicament, and smile at the eroticism she inspired.

Thank you, dear reader, for your wonderfully evocative submission!

And you are quite right, corner time is nothing to giggle about. Your restitution was appropriate, adopting the position you’d considered so lightly, standing hands on head where you too might be seen. That someone else might glimpse your shame, as your mind fills with thoughts of the bottom smacking that you had earned.

Your spanking was simple, yet effective. A wooden hairbrush on your bare bottom. I particularly liked how you then took the initiative to write up your experience whilst sitting on your sore cheeks, on the hard seat of a straight-backed chair. I wonder, did you learn that from the self-spanking challenge?

But most of all I’m delighted how you’re now seeing erotic possibilities everywhere, even in the most mundane, everyday sights. Because there’s a secret world of eroticism out there, maybe just glimpsed in the corner of our eye, only visible to those who truly take the time to look…

A powerful aphrodisiac

An anonymous reader writes:

Hi..l came across your website almost
a year ago and since then there’s been
no looking back.

Your stories are so tantalizing that it’s outrageous. A
few days ago
l read Grimoire while attempting to follow the instructions and challenges of Squirm. Believe me,
l did try to keep my hands away from… you know what… but l just couldn’t… my fingers took on a life of their own. Anyway, l was defeated. A victim of my own lack of self control.

But instead of punishing myself
l decided to take on a challenge that might teach me some self control. l
decided to read Grimoire again, in my college library…

Oh the sensations! ln
the midst of so many books l felt utterly sinful. My hands were itching to
touch myself, but in public l could only put on
a straight face and read on. l kept squirming in my seat and when
l finished reading
l looked up at the bookshelves where the books seemed to frown disapprovingly.
I felt positively guilty but positively aroused as well.

As you’ve so rightly written guilt can be a powerful

Now regarding my punishment l decided to buy
a very tight pair of panties and wear them to bed. They’re so snug
l can’t even let my fingers in when
l want to rub myself. And on top of that denial
l shall read more of your stories. Oh the delicious frustrations…

Do you think
I’ve punished myself enough? lf not could you please suggest
a few punishments? With your devious imagination I’m quite sure you’re capable of it…

Well, as you seem to find stories of spanking and punishment so arousing, I think it’s only proper you experience a spanked bottom for yourself. Perhaps you’ll find some ideas to inspire you in my recent Guide to Self-Spanking. Perhaps you’re already thinking of bending over the bottom of your bed, tapping a hairbrush or slipper expectantly on your bare tingling cheeks.

Or perhaps you’ll be spanked with your tight panties on, denying your wandering fingers the chance to rub away your whacking. And perhaps afterwards you’ll tie your underwear to the back of your panty-pulling chair, and do your very own sit-down dance, squirming on your pink bottom as you contemplate your naughtiness. I’ve found that a powerful
aphrodisiac indeed.

I do hope that’s answered your question, dear reader.

Inspected and Figged

An anonymous reader writes:

For yesterday’s “naughty game”, I decided
to enlist the help of a partner. He seemed pretty delighted when I asked
him to choose one. Somehow, though, he seemed to temporarily forget how
to count and elected to choose not one, but three. He sent me a message first
thing in the morning to tell myself to prepare for the “Inspections for Girls” game, followed by “Bottom Inspection” and “Figging”. I’m not
unfamiliar with ginger, and my past experiences have been incredibly
painful, so I was both excited and terrified by the prospect.

Now, I’m pretty much entirely comfortable with myself
around this partner. So I didn’t think he could make me feel *that*
embarrassed just by looking at me. How wrong I was. He started by having
me stand on a stool in the middle of the room whilst he stared intently
at my body. He touched my breasts and squeezed my nipples whilst
commenting on how nice they are (I’m not good at receiving
compliments!). He was extremely formal about everything – the way he
spoke, the way he positioned me, the way he took his time examining
every detail, even the way he touched me…

Then he helped me off the stool,
and asked me to lie on the bed. Then he asked me to pull my feet towards
my bum and spread my knees. Like a gynaecological exam. I was hesitant,
but he stood authoritatively over me and waited until I did. The silent
stare eventually became more intimidating than having to open my legs.
He proceeded to gently stroke my outer labia and my mound – both
extremely sensitive areas for me. I wanted to buck my hips and squirm
but I didn’t dare move. I know exactly how hard he can slap my inner
thigh if he wants to reprimand me, and I wasn’t going to risk that!

Suddenly he pulled away and disappeared somewhere behind my
head. Then I heard the sound of latex medical gloves. Again with the
formality. It felt clinical, unemotional. As though he was simply
looking at a body, with no sexuality involved at all. When he came back,
he began to run his fingers around my inner labia and the outside of my
vagina. Then inside my vagina. Just one finger. Clinical. Prodding it.
Commenting on how open it was.

He searched for my g-spot, but once he
was sure that he had identified it he lingered just long enough to test
my reaction before pulling out. Then – and I have no idea how he did it –
he spent an age examining my clitoral hood without touching my clit at
all. I was so desperate. But I still did not dare to move. When he
finally touched my clit, it was too much. I started to move in towards
his finger. But I still couldn’t look him in the face.

Suddenly, in an unexpected deviation from the plot, he was
on top of me. I still felt so ashamed of my arousal that I found it
difficult to accept. But I liked that. Within no time, I had relaxed, my
head was exploding and my whole body was tingling.

At that point, I thought that he had forgotten about
the second part of the game. But no. Apparently he just wanted me to
have an orgasm first so that the sensations would be all the more
sensitive. He instructed me to pile up some pillows on the edge of the
bed and to bend over them.

Then he began the bottom inspection. This was
somehow easier. I didn’t feel as exposed. At least, not until he put
his gloves on again, unceremoniously lubed me up and stuck his fingers
in there. One by one. Commenting on how eager my bum was to swallow
them. Thankfully,  he didn’t linger for as long. Instead, he took his
time circling a piece of ginger around my anus. The tingling felt
so good. I was able to sexualise the pain far more effectively than I
have in the past, and I put that down to the way that he made me
feel. My bum was basically begging for the ginger to be put in there.
And in it went. And I instantly felt light-headed. I was floating.

But he wasn’t finished. He got a cane out, and he told me
that I was going to receive six, and that I was to count them and ask
for each one. Of course, the first strike put me in such an intensely
pleasurable space that I promptly forgot everything that he had said. I
didn’t even comprehend the reason for the long silence because I was
revelling in the sensations flooding across my body and mind. As a
result, I got an extra one added to my sentence. The next five went much
the same as the first, each one washing across my body like the first.

As I went to ask for my final one, he told me that he wanted me to ask
for it *very* hard and in my crease. I wanted it, and there was no
hesitation. The pain felt so good. As he struck, I came.

And that’s when
he produced the second piece of ginger, carved into a crescent moon
shape. Once he had inserted it into my pussy, it just took a slight
wiggle for it to make my g-spot and my clit tingle simultaneously. As
you can imagine, my orgasms became uncontrollable from that point on…

Thank you, dear reader, for this delightfully evocative account of your playtime. In the naughty games I’ve always wanted to create activities that can be enjoyed by both single players alone and couples together. So I’m happy to hear you had such a great orgasms, and loved how you cleverly chained them together to create such a memorable experience! Along with the randomness of the hat, combining games is another idea readers might like to try for themselves…

Out of the Hat

An anonymous reader writes:

This month I’ve set myself the challenge of playing all of your naughty games. So I’ve written them all on slips of paper and put them into a hat. The very first one I picked out was ’Naked Reading’. Sigh of relief, a nice, gentle start.

begin, I prepped my bed. I put a pile of four pillows in the centre of
the bed, and placed my hairbrush under the top pillow. I stepped back
and took a couple of minutes to admire my handiwork. I felt the familiar
sensation of wetness growing in my white cotton knickers.

I undressed. I lay on my front, with my bottom raised by the pillows. I
was very tempted at this point to put my hand straight between my legs
and to start slowly fiddling with my clit. But I resisted.

I took hold of my hairbrush with my right hand. With my left hand, I
began to read the story ’Fall’. The story begins by describing a girl
who fantasises about being caned, and her friend, who regularly gets
slippered for being naughty…

I was already lying in the position in
which the latter received her spankings. I fantasised alongside the main
character. As she described her caning fantasy, I stroked by bottom
with the hairbrush. My imagination invoked the feeling of a cane being
stroked against my buttocks. The long, drawn out anticipation before
being struck with it. I was desperate to touch myself, but I hadn’t
finished the story yet.

Soon enough, one of the
characters was receiving a hard spanking. That was my cue, I raised my arm and bought my
hairbrush down hard on my bottom. It was as if I was being spanked with her. My
pleasure was building.

I managed to keep
reading until the end. It was a story full of anticipation, and I was
feeling that anticipation for myself. I couldn’t wait to receive another
spanking, but I had to wait until the very end of the story to receive
it. Finally, the main character was tied to a spanking bench and being
caned. I hit myself hard with my hairbrush, Multiple times. I had an
orgasm just from the spanking. Yet I didn’t touch myself at all.

I fell asleep almost immediately afterwards.

And now, today, I’ve just picked ‘Squirm’ from the hat. Oh fuck.

What an excellent idea! Putting all the naughty games into a hat and drawing them out one by one, so you never quite know what game to expect next. I suspect that’s an idea many readers will enjoy copying.

And I’m glad you chose Fall, one of the lesser read stories, and one that deserves to be played with.

You seem to struggle with self-control. Squirm will be fun. I look forward to hearing all about it…

A Spanking Revelation

An anonymous reader writes:

I took a deep breath and bit my lip. I was sitting on my bed, staring at the small ottoman a few feet in
front of me. I couldn’t believe I was actually about to go through with this. I took another deep breath and
decided to try putting myself in the position.

I bent down and laid myself over the ottoman, my bottom
raised the highest. Then, I spread my legs so that I would be straddling it. It was extremely uncomfortable
since the edges of the ottoman were digging into me, so I got a pillow that I could easily cover the
ottoman with. Nothing too thick, but enough to make a difference. I bent back down, and found that this
was more comfortable. Okay, I thought to myself. It’s time to do this.

I stood back up and I looked down, my fingers trembling a little. I held my breath and took down my
pajama shorts. That wasn’t so bad! The anticipation really got to me, I think. With a little more ease and
butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I put my fingers in the waistband of my white bikini-style panties. I
could feel my breath a little shaky as I pulled them down to my ankles and stepped out of them…

bottom ached as the cool breeze from my fan blew on to them. I reached back and touched my cool
bottom, knowing it wasn’t going to stay like that. I bent down and I picked up my panties and shorts,
folding them and placing them neatly on the bed. Regardless of knowing this is a self-spanking
punishment, I knew my disciplinarian would put me over his knee and blister my bottom should I
embarrass him, by not living up to his expectations of me. You always fold your clothing neatly and
properly, his words echoed in my mind.

I placed the flat, thick wooden spatula (it really was more like a wooden
paddle) next to the ottoman. I straddled it, then slowly bent myself over so that my bottom was the
highest in the air, and the easiest target. I had my right arm down, holding for balance, and my feet barely
touched the floor. The ottoman was about knee high, but I had to push myself forward so that my bottom
could become my highest point.

I felt the fan once again, but this time the breeze touched all that would have been exposed
to him: my vulva felt cool against the breeze, the moisture made apparent. I could feel it tingle in the mild
breeze, and it ached but I ignored it. I didn’t have permission, and I wasn’t going off script.

Five minutes, I muttered to myself. I reached for my phone, setting a timer countdown for five minutes
and twenty seconds. I wanted to be as accurate as I could. I picked up the spatula, but my bottom
squirmed and I could feel myself ache as the realization of how long 20 seconds actually were dawned on
me. I allowed myself to squirm and ache, but I didn’t dare reach back. The anticipation drove me nuts!

Finally, the timer clicked to 5:00:00 and I laid down the first swat on my right cheek. I jumped slightly, as
it was harder than I meant, but I continued. I laid down a softer spank, enough to sting but not enough
to really hurt. I spanked my right cheek, then my left. I alternated between the cheeks, and really focused
on the areas of the highest part of my bottom. I started to squirm a little, the heat radiating in my cheeks
once the timer hit 4:15, but I kept going at the pace. It was about one every two seconds. I kept spanking
the same spots, and my focus remained on those spots.

Once the timer hit 4:00:00 I started going
lower. This time, I brought down the spatula a little harder. I worked my way from right to left. I kept the
pace going, and despite my groans and whimpers, I kept the strength the same as well. I am actually really
proud that I was able to do it. Once the timer hit 3:45 though, I decided to spank hard and swiftly, causing
myself to instinctively kick and squirm, but I managed to keep going.

When fifteen seconds were up, I moved lower. This time I was on the lowest part of my bottom cheeks. Not quite the sit spots. I
worked my way across again, but not hard. I was merely warming them with a sting each spank. I kept
going, a spank per second, until the timer hit 3:30, and I increased my strength. I spanked moderately
hard, attacking my bottoms, kicking and squirming slightly as I worked across my bottom again. I noticed
how hard it was for me to kick being over a tall ottoman. My bottom was spread wide, and in a way really
locked my legs in position.

I continued spanking, crying out a little, but I knew I needed to do a good job.
When the timer finally hit 3:00:00, I felt a relief, momentary only of course, as I knew the next area was
going to be my sit spots. I took my time. I slapped down the spatula, my bottom instantly burned to the
touch, going twice on each side. I worked on my outer left, to the inner left, then inner right, and outer
left. I kept this at a one every three second pace, but the sting and burn growing as I took my time. I
allowed the flicking of my wrist to provide the maximum, but my bottom aching at its touch. I continued
this, until I noticed the time at 2:10, then I bit my lip and slapped down the spatula hard and swiftly across
my sit spots. My feet shook in reaction, but I continued going.

Even at 2:00 with my bottom satisfactorily warmed, and I could feel the fan cooler and cooler as it
breezed over my exposed moisture. I could feel it getting intense, but I continued my spanking—knowing
it needed to happen. I started to spank the top of my thighs, just below my the crevice of my bottom, just
under the sit spots slowly but with a strength that left a burning impression on my bottom. I continued this
well into the time, allowing myself to slightly become numb into my repetition.

I could feel the fan
getting cooler, as my bottom got hotter—my vulva wet and aching. I didn’t realize that spankings aroused
me in a way. I could feel my face heating as I realized that if my disciplinarian ever straddled me over his
knee to better punish the center of my bottom and the parts usually neglected, nothing I ever said would
convince him that this truly wasn’t happening. He would certainly know, my moisture
would betray me, leaving its presence on his thigh and the thought of that embarrassed me.

Hell, the
thought of knowing I am bare and exposed, vulnerable and left to his mercy heated my cheeks even more.
I came back to the present, noticing that I now only had a minute left of my punishment. I took a
deep breath and put the spatula in my right hand, swinging swift and hard on my right cheek. I brought it
down enough to reignite the spanking a few minutes before. I focused on my right cheek, and then at
0:45, I brought it down rapidly and hard.

I spanked as hard as I’d ever done. I could feel the tears
brimming my eyes, but I am stubborn. I spanked all over my right cheek—the center, fullest parts all the
way down to my upper thigh. Once the timer hit thirty seconds, I brought the spatula down hard on my left side. I
didn’t do a ‘warm up’ because there was one more area I wanted to get before the timer hit. I focused hard
on my left cheek, the timer ticking to ten seconds. I fought hard to keep the tears at the brim, but finally I brought the spatula down on the inner part of my bottom and thighs. This area was awkward, but mostly
successful. My phone finally rang at 0:00:00 and I put the spatula down and just let myself lay over the

I could hear my disciplinarian’s words behind me.

“Why did you get this spanking? What do you get when
you’re being a naughty, little girl?”

He knows I hate saying it. I hate admitting it. I would always
respond, “I got this spanking because I was being naughty. When I am naughty, I will always get a bare
bottom spanking.” But that’s never the end of my spankings.

My disciplinarian doesn’t time my spankings. He makes me speak, because he knows I hate feeling
like a ‘naughty little girl’ as he calls me. He knows that by admitting it, I can’t deny it’s actually

When I finally got up, not rubbing my bottom despite the burning and aching, I walked into the
bathroom to grab my hand-held mirror. I turned my bottom, and put the mirror behind me, I was shocked at how
red my bottom was. Thankfully, I didn’t bruise my bottom, but it was the color of a medium pink, with
areas of darker pink in my lower part of my bottom. I was glad I hadn’t bruised myself — that is something I do NOT want. I was surprised though due to how close I was to
tears by the end. I put my hand to my bottom, and its warmth surprised me. I could feel my bottom
burning and desperate for a rubbing, but I knew I wasn’t done yet.

I could feel my vulva aching for a
rubbing as well, but knew I couldn’t. I bit my lip, ignoring the temptations—knowing that my lower stomach
fluttered with butterflies, my bottom burning, and my vulva tingling. I wanted so bad to relieve myself,
but I knew that since I didn’t have permission to rub after my punishment, that I wasn’t going to. I glanced
over and was thankful that I didn’t get my pillow wet. I could feel the moisture between my legs, but I bit
my lip and I grabbed my laptop. I had to finish the last part: writing my report on my spanking.

Overall, being bare bottom was extremely effective. Just baring my bottom heated my cheeks, and I
wanted to groan in embarrassment when I finally placed myself over the ottoman for the spanking.
Knowing that if my disciplinarian had actually been there, he’d not only see my bare bottom but everything else in between. The deviousness of this position was I couldn’t close my legs, I couldn’t clench my bottom shut to regain some form of power
back — no, it left me extremely vulnerable, and the fan was just making it worse. He would know
everything, without a word being said.

Also, I didn’t get a warm up or anything over my panties or shorts,
so being bare from the start allowed a different type of anticipation. When I am bare across a knee or
pillow, I can easily close my legs and hide everything. This time, it was different. In this position with my bottom high I felt vulnerable, a much easier target.

Another aspect
that was extremely effective, is what I’m doing right now. I’m sitting on a wooden chair (squirming of
course), bottom still bare, as I write a report detailing everything. The idea of writing this, on a spanked bottom brought a blush to my cheeks. This is an extremely effective punishment, I’ve already explained how hard I find it to say to
my disciplinarian, “When I am a naughty little girl, I get a bare bottom spanking”. But writing up my spanking brings my discipline to a whole new level. Not only do I have to admit I got a spanking, but describe it in full detail.

I do this, because I was trusted to do this assignment, and I know
the only way to do it is to do it correctly or else I don’t learn. As for the overall spanking, I feel that I
could have been stricter, but I feel that for my first directed spanking with instructions of only ‘bare
bottom, straddling the ottoman, five minutes with the wooden spatula’ that I did rather well.

Finally, something else I discovered as I’m writing this report is knowing that being bare bottom right
away and exposed (the prequel to the spanking), the vulnerability, and having to send this report to
another person, and knowing it could possibly be read by others is actually beneficial. It sparked a
thought that knowing how it affected me, may mean it should be a part of all my future punishments…
that is, should I be told by my disciplinarian.

Now that my punishment is finally over, I am going to rub my bottom and relieve the sting and aches of
myself so that I may be able to put my panties and shorts back on.

Thank you Sir, and I look forward to the next ‘assignment’ you have me do… even if I may tremble in the
moments leading up to it, as you have me expose myself and bend over. But I know I am thankful afterwards, despite my bottom aching and

Thank you, dear reader, for this wonderful submission.

I’ve had some questions recently asking for spanking assignments, and this is a wonderful example of how an imaginative mind can take the simplest of instructions and turn them into an intense, immersive experience. It’s also a wonderfully detailed piece of writing.

The individual who submitted this piece has told me they’d love to hear other readers comments on their disciplinary experience. So if you feel like reblogging this post, why not add a comment of your own. Was she punished properly? Did you appreciate her inventiveness? And… did reading about her self-spanking arouse you?

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