Spanking Theatre

Spanking stories for the theatre between your ears



This might seem extremely silly but how would one check for a pink stripe after a good panty pulling? I tried to use my phone but wasn’t able to get a good angle

Not a silly question at all, I know examining the stripe inflicted by a good panty-pulling can be very satisfying finale to the experience.

If you have a full length mirror, you can lie on your back and raise your legs to your shoulders, allowing you to look between them at your reflection. Pop a pillow underneath you if you need to make the angle better.

Mirrors have the advantage that they leave both hands free, allowing you to tug your buttocks apart for a better view. Depending on your fantasy you might like to hold this position, imagining yourself being put on display, your punishment visible for all to see.

Bending over with your bottom pulled open is also an excellent position.

If you’re using a camera, the key to a good view is proper illumination. Bend over facing a light source, daylight is best, but you might try experimenting with a flash.

Take your time, and enjoy your inspection.

My Intimate Inspection

An anonymous reader writes:

Even just reading your Inspections For Girls post got me soaking wet, I had always wanted to be inspected like that.

had spent all day thinking about what I had planned for the evening. I would be laid out on a bed, imagining a group of people inspecting and
touching my naked body as I had to remain motionless.

As you suggested, I
chose a little soft brush and cotton buds to do my self
inspection. By the time I had undressed and folded all my clothes into a
neat pile my slit was already wet.
My body was trembling with excitement as I lay down, sorting my
instruments next to me in preparation.

started with my breasts. My hands first, fingers creating swirls from
top to bottom, gliding over the smooth, soft skin. I then used the
little brush to create another set of swirls,
that ended at my hard nipples. The little flicks of the brush on the
sensitive area made me press my thighs together, as I felt the slick growing
even more.

dipped a cotton bud into cold water and continued to test my restraint.
The cold touch made me moan with pleasure, my nipples now achingly hard. I
pinched and pulled at them, trying not
to make too much sound and give away my obvious pleasure.

per Sir’s guide, I moved on down to my thighs. I used my fingers to
push and prod the soft skin, followed by the brush to gently tickle me. I
quickly found my brush straying to
the thigh crease, and I couldn’t help spreading my legs wider to reach every inch I could.

hands took over as I explored my smooth tummy and down towards my
shaven pussy. I used both fingers to tease down the sides of my slit,
never going close enough to become distracted.
I pushed and prodded and pulled my lips apart. Using a mirror I saw my
creamy slit drenched from what I had done so far. My lips were all puffy
and swollen, dying for attention.

the hard end of my brush I traced my folds, teasing myself as I reached
more sensitive areas of my slit. As I swirled the small tip I could
hear my slick as I got even wetter,
my chest heaving as I struggled to maintain my control.

pressed the end to my perineum. It’s a place on my body I’ve never paid
much attention to, but pushing on the sensitive skin made my pussy
flutter with excitement.

my fingers I pulled my puffy lips apart again and observed my exposed,
little pink clit in my mirror. It took everything not to give in and rub
furiously, but I was a good girl.
Using the soft end I brushed gently, my body twitching as I tried to
keep my legs open. I vaguely remember a gasp leaving my mouth. I teased
myself for a long as I could without caving completely!

a little I positioned myself so I could see everything in my little
mirror. I spread my lips apart and my little slit was glistening. I used
the slick to lube my tight hole,
focusing around the edge first. I watched as I pulsed and fluttered at
the intrusion. I pushed a little further enjoying the stretch. Slowly
but surely I pushed my index finger further into my cunt, my walls
squeezing tight as I curled my finger round to touch
my swollen g-spot. Closing my eyes I imagined my inspectors would want
to see how long I could hold a finger before the urge to come
overwhelmed me.

I’m so tight I’ve never been able to enjoy my fingers before, but as my other hand
revisited my nipples and my clit I couldn’t stop the natural rhythm of
my finger, teasing at my G-Spot. My pussy
started to spasm around my hand, and my I felt my arousal spreading
down towards my bottom, over my hand and thighs.

closed my eyes, imagining a group of white-coated men watching me,
taking note of my open mouth, my legs spreading wider, the roll of my
hips against my hand. Would they hear the squelching noises coming from my pussy? Slipping my fingers into my mouth to
muffle my moans I felt so full and like the dirtiest young lady in the
world. After some gentle curls of my finger and some harsh rubs against
my swollen clit I came hard around my finger to
my invisible audience.

Thank you so so much, for the most amazing orgasm.

My pleasure, dear reader.

The intention of the inspection game is to teach patience, that gaining pleasure from your own body is more than just rubbing your clit, in a race to relieve yourself as quickly as possible. It can also be about exploring yourself, discovering sensations and new effects. As you describe so well, playing slowly can have a relaxing effect, allowing you to play comfortably with your fingers in your vagina.

We each own bodies capable of remarkable sensual sophistication. The hot throbbing sensations of a well-spanked bottom feature heavily in my stories, but that’s just one of thousands you might experience. And only if you take the time to explore yourself. You might take a lifetime to discover them all…

Cleft of Venus

[There used to be a picture here]

Of a cane, tap, tap, tapping against a smooth bare slit.

Because canes are not just for whacking bottoms.

It can not be
coincidence that the pudendal cleft, known by scholars as the Cleft of
Venus, accommodates an interrogating rod so perfectly.

How the smooth thin stick fits so snugly in your fleshy groove, its edge faintly touching the tip of your tingling clit.

when slowly drawn back and forth like a violinist’s bow, it is
lubricated, gathering the sheen of your involuntary excitement.

How just a little pressure upwards, can raise you on your toes.

I see you shaved bare for me. Good. You will find obedience is rewarded.

But first, I have answers to pursue.

I tap on your labia. Rapid, firm smacks. A spanking in microcosm.

Spanked on your front bottom, how embarrassing that must be.

You yelp from the sting, but it’s the deep echo of the impacts that really makes you ache.

I slot my cane back into your slit.

Stroking. Slipping. Sliding. Back and forth.

You’re making my stick… very… wet… indeed.

Have you been touching yourself?

You know this place is out of bounds.

Yet, you also know the prize denial brings.

The glorious gift in my sole power to give.

I lift the cane, intruding deeper, raising you to your tiptoes.

Will you be a good girl?

For me?

Naughty Game #20: Strip Search

The naughty games are back, with a new batch of playtime ideas for adventurous minds!

As I wrote in a previous post, an unexpectedly popular fantasy among readers of this blog is being strip searched.

many, this might seem excessively weird. After all, no-one really wants
to be strip-searched, do they? A humiliation reserved for suspected
lawbreakers, or convicted prisoners. Surely no-one would willingly want
to be subject to such deprivation? But that would be to misunderstand
the nature of erotic fantasies, often they are not aspirations, but the
eroticising of circumstances that we would horrified to find ourselves
in. A taboo can fuel the hottest erotic fire.

This game describes how to play out a strip search fantasy in the privacy of
your own home. It can be played alone, where you search yourself, or with a partner. And if you
like to switch, perhaps the one being searched will be decided by the toss of a

Optional props:

  • a full length mirror
  • a pair of latex gloves (available from a pharmacy)
  • some lubricant

To play, first, establish your setting.

Perhaps you’ve been caught trying to smuggle something through an airport. Or you’ve been caught masturbating in a public toilet or a public park. An officer of the law has seen you with your fingers deep in your slit and suspects you may have been hiding something there. So you’ve been arrested and taken to a police station for investigation.

Or perhaps you’ve been convicted of a crime and have just arrived at the prison. If you have velcro cuffs, you might want to put them on as you imagine yourself in custody. Perhaps prison rules dictate new arrivals are shaved bare before they’re searched.

The authority figure you imagine searching you can be the same gender as yourself, or if you prefer, a different one. Depending of which would be more humiliating, and arousing.

The strip-search protocol dictates that the subject slowly undresses themselves in front of a full length mirror. Fold each garment neatly as you remove it, and imagine having to pass it to the authority figure who’ll be examining you.

Now stand naked in front of the mirror for at least 5 minutes with your hands on head. The search protocol demands this wait as it leads to a more compliant subject, as their skin cools and their adrenaline level diminishes.

If you have latex gloves, put them on now. Make sure you sniff them, the clinical smell is very evocative for many, of clinics and examinations for some and of freshly unwrapped condoms and that delightful moment just before a fucking for others.

The search protocol mandates the following five inspections, each to be performed standing in front of a mirror.

#1 Inspection of Head

The subject should open their mouth, and explore inside with their fingers, checking the teeth and under the tongue. Then proceed to examining the face, in particular the nostrils, eyebrows and cheeks, around and behind ears, before thoroughly searching their scalp and hair. Conclude with an examination of the neck and throat.

#2 Inspection of Chest and Arms

The subject should lift their arms to reveal their armpits. Then extend each arm forwards in turn, and rub their gloved hands along the opposite arm, starting at the armpit, then covering every patch of skin until the hand is reached. The fingers should then be splayed, and the areas between them and under the nails examined. Then repeat for the other arm using the other hand.

If the subject is female, a full breast and nipple inspection can begin. Begin at the armpit, and begin circling each breast in turn, gently padding the skin as if assessing whether the breast is natural or artificial. Ensure that the nipples are pinched and tugged firmly to conclude.

#3 Inspection of Tummy and Legs

Continue down from the chest, examining the navel, before paying special attention to the public mound. It should be stroked gently, especially if the subject is shaved bare and exquisitely sensitive. Avoid the genitals for now.

The subject should then bend over and run each hand down the opposite leg in turn, paying special attention to the area behind the knee, the regions between the toes, and the sole of each foot.

#4 Inspection of Genitals

For female subjects, this begins with a full inspection of the vulva, as described in the post Inspections for Girls. The subject should be standing in front of the mirror, so they can follow every detail of their examination, as their labia are parted, and every furrow of their slit and perineum is inspected.

When the clitoris has been exposed, tugged back and examined, a deep vaginal inspection can begin, initially with the index finger of your dominant hand. Lubricate this finger if necessary. Probe inside, stroking the ridges of the anterior wall until the vagina loosens enough to accomodate a second finger. The search protocol mandates that the inspector’s fingers enter as deeply as possible to detect any illicit contents.  

Meticulous searchers might also try probing with a large dildo, but do not allow the subject to orgasm.

For male subjects the search protocol  involves examining the testes and scrotum, and then the length of the penis. If the subject is not circumcised, tug the foreskin back behind the glans, and wait for the penis to harden. The penis should be fully erect before the glans and urethra are inspected.

#5 Inspection of Buttocks and Anus

Once the genitals have been thoroughly examined, a thorough Bottom Inspection can commence. Begin by inspecting the skin of the buttocks, before splaying the cheeks to examine the cleft, using the mirror to see into every part of the crevice.

Then the middle finger of the dominant hand can be lubricated, and slowly worked into the anus. Continue to push deeper, withdrawing the finger if necessary to apply additional lubrication. Continue probing until the middle finger has penetrated to its maximum extent. Meticulous inspectors might try penetrating with an anal dildo or filling the bottom hole with a butt plug.

Bonus Ideas

After each stage of the search has been completed, stop to take notes, as if you were compiling an accompanying report of the search. This would include what was found during the inspection, and how the subject responded to the examination. Arousal may be recorded, and subsequently used as evidence. Masturbation immediately after a search is quite forebidden, but perhaps you’d imagine someone stumbling across the report of your search later, and climaxing as they read all about your degradation.

After all stages of the search have been completed, have the subject kneel in front of the mirror, inserting a finger of their left hand into their anus. Female subjects can simultaneously insert a finger of their right hand into her vagina, whilst male subjects hold their erections. Leave them in position to appreciate their predicament, and imagine what might be coming next…

The Strip Search Fantasy

The naughty games are coming back, with a new batch of playtime ideas for adventurous minds!

of the privileges of writing this blog are the messages I receive from
total strangers, some of whom use the anonymity this medium offers to
recount fantasies that even their partners may not know they harbour.
Often these are accompanied by pleas to write a story about their
fetish, because few things are hotter than hearing a private fantasy
from another’s lips.

And one unexpectedly popular fantasy is being strip searched.

many, this might seem excessively weird. After all, no-one really wants
to be strip-searched, do they? A humiliation reserved for suspected
lawbreakers, or convicted prisoners. Surely no-one would willingly want
to be subject to such deprivation? But that would be to misunderstand
the nature of erotic fantasies, often they are not aspirations, but the
eroticising of circumstances that we would horrified to find ourselves
in. A taboo can fuel the hottest erotic fire.

A good example is
the classic classroom spanking fantasy. No-one is seriously suggesting
that school pupils should ever be spanked in real life, but it’s a
universally familiar setting, and one our imaginations can easily
subvert by just a few subtle changes in the game-world’s rules. So
instead of being dutiful students, some like to imagine themselves as
naughty delinquents, and if the teachers were granted the authority to
physically punish – well, now it doesn’t take a huge leap of imagination
to picture oneself sitting in detention on a well-spanked bottom.

with a strip search, most of us would be appalled if it actually
happened to us, but the thought of it happening, and being able to
control and sexualise it, appeals to some enormously. I know many who
don’t consider themselves exhibitionists, yet still secretly harbour powerful intimate
inspection fantasies.

So the first post in the new series of naughty
games describes how to play out a strip search in the privacy of your own home.

The Sit-Down Dance: part 1


Every girl in the school knew about it, even if they’d just heard the whispered rumours. They talked about it ominously, like a ghostly legend, or a terrible curse. And when it was discussed, it was only ever in hushed voices and the merest mumblings. It was the threat that hung over them all, the most feared punishment, the just deserts awaiting the perpetrators of the very naughtiest misbehaviour.

How many times had a group of friends begun to scheme some illicit hijinks, only for one of them to stop, and suddenly exclaim: “We can’t do that! We’d all do the Sit Down Dance for sure!”

There was no greater shame than to be summoned to the front of the class, having finally exhausted your teacher’s patience. And then having to stand there, head bowed, as she scribbled your name and misdemeanour onto a little red-bordered card. All while your classmates were excitedly whispering and sniggering just behind you…

“The Sit Down Dance! She’s going to do the Sit Down Dance!”

There was no greater embarrassment than pushing through the double doors of the staff wing, an area normally strictly off-limits for pupils, once the final bell of the school day had rung. Clutching your little red-bordered card to your chest, proffering it to each passing teacher, your pass to the inner sanctum, shirking with shame as they read your name and your crime, scowling disdainfully.

And there was no greater anxiety than trudging down the long corridor, past all the staff rooms and the Headmistress’ office. To shuffle inevitably towards the Punishment Room, tummy tumbling with trepidation.

The door to that notorious room was old and heavy, a dark mahogany hunk that looked incongruously out of place amidst the school’s modern decor, like a pirate ship had somehow been moored at the end of the corridor. Even just turning the ornate brass handle gave the feeling you were about to leave the modern world behind and step beyond into the captain’s cabin.

Visitors saw a small brass plaque mounted at eye-height, a few lines engraved in cursive writing for those about to enter to ponder. It was a quotation from long ago, from when school itself had still been young.

Heaven is not always angry when he strikes,

But most chastises those

Whom most he likes.

– John Pomfret

Alice could feel the dampness of her own palm as she gripped the handle, but after a moment’s hesitation, she pushed the heavy door ajar.

Yet no matter how many times Alice had visited the Punishment Room, the world beyond that antiquated door never failed to surprise her…

Keep reading

Next in the alphabetic retrospective of stories you might have missed is the epic four-part tale The Sit-Down Dance, its constituent parts being:

This story was an opportunity to revisit some of the characters I’d conjured into being in Punishment Panties a few years earlier, and was a world I greatly enjoyed revisiting. I’d had this story planned in my head (and sketched out in my notebook) for so long, so it was very satisfying to finally to be able to render it into written
words. 33,000 words as it turned out, the story grew in the telling.

Here’s a review that nicely captures how this story was received by many readers, judging by my inbox. And, in case you’re curious, some pictures of a naughty young lady doing The Sit-Down Dance courtesy of the lovely @asajones2.

What readers have said about this story:

“At the end of the story, I found myself grinning, curled into my
pillows, yearning to know what happens next! The vivid imagery, the wildly creative antics.,I’m finding myself a little tongued-tied at the moment, legs still
wobbly from post orgasm bliss, fingers trembling from the vigorous
rubbing they had just partaken in. I adored it. Truly!“

“I am amazed by how much Sir’s writings arouse me. So many details
in your stories seem like they have been plucked directly from my most
shameful desires. And when it came to this story there were so many of

Being summoned in front of the class to get your little red card,
everyone knowing what’s awaiting you when lessons are over. The walk to
the punishment room and having to show your little badge of shame to all
the teachers you pass. The imagery of the punishment room and the
girls’ preparation. And then the actual punishment, Sir.

It delighted me in such a wicked and shameful way! The position the
girls have to assume and the constraints to assure they retain the
proper posture. The tugging down of the panties and the inspection! The
tissue, Sir, and hav-… having your bottom wiped. The mere idea of
being sat on the potty, piddling like a little girl. Your Mistress or
Sir having to wipe you dry. How can things so debasing be at the same
time so arousing, Sir?” 

What do you think?

Sandalwood and Ginger


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.
They stay.
They lurk.
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…

Keep reading

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.

Your ticket to the masked ball awaits

The Booth

A spanking story

Naughty Girl

said the text message, almost accusingly.

She stared at his response. She’d thought her misdemeanour was trivial, worthy of a playful light-hearted scolding at the very worst. But the abruptness of his reply made her realise how seriously he took her disobedience.

In the mall, crowds of busy shoppers milled around her, quite oblivious to her predicament, as she stared meekly at her phone, awaiting his judgement. She felt the phone vibrate in her sweaty palm.

You must be punished.

She stared at the little glowing words.

A good hard spanking, on your bare bottom.

She could feel a warm, clammy wetness seeping from her slit, and sticking to her panties. A good hard spanking meant being spanked until her bottom burned, until its sore persistent sting overwhelmed every other sensation. Then obediently standing in the corner until the glowing ache consumed her, dominating her mind.

Go to the 5th floor of the shopping centre. To the atrium with the waterfall.

She acknowledged his instructions, stepping onto the escalator, and was carried away.

The atrium was filled with the hubbub of passing voices, and the gurgle of water tumbling down the mound of mossy rocks into the surrounding faux marble pool. The cool stone felt nice against her skin through her thin dress. She waited and wondered why he’d sent her here, why he hadn’t just ordered her home, to be put over his knee.

She felt her phone vibrate again.

Booth 1. The keypad code is 1212

She scanned her surroundings, spotting three nondescript white cubes against a nearby wall. Each was about 2 metres high, and unremarkable enough to be completely ignored by the crowds hurrying past. Each booth had a big foam letter above it, each sinking into the cloud-like fluff that covered the top of each booth. An N, an A and a P.

The booths were nap pods, available to rent to subscribers for half-hour periods. A quiet space about a metre square, little oases of calm amid the din of the big city. There was a chair to lie back in, and a charging point for your phone, which displayed the countdown until your 30 minutes expired, and the booth was unlocked. All one needed was the app and an account. Her disciplinarian had become a regular customer.

After punching in the code with somewhat shaky fingers, the keypad beeped agreeably in response as the magnetic latch disengaged. She tugged the door open and stepped into the tiny space beyond, closing it circumspectly behind her.

Inside the booth was a reclining chair, if she’d sat on it, she’d be facing back the way she’d entered.

She placed her phone in the charging cradle at the back of the booth, leaning over the chair to do so, and activated video calling. It connected moments later, though his face didn’t appear, leaving her disappointed that he didn’t greet her with a smile, but he seemed not to have activated his own camera. His voice, when he finally spoke, was stern and authoritative.

“Take it all off,” he instructed. “Everything.”

There was something in what he said, an edge, that could only have meant he was referring to her clothes. She complied rapidly, not wanting to displease her disciplinarian further, loosening her shoes before lifting her white summer dress over her head. Having a relatively small bust, she hadn’t worn a bra, so only needed to pull down her damp panties to be standing naked before him. She widened her stance, parting her legs, folding her arms behind her back, presenting herself for his approval…

She waited in silence as he examined her.

“Turn around. Straddle the chair. Open your cheeks.”

She did as she was told, lifting one leg over the chair, and turning so her bare bottom was now facing her phone. Splaying herself open revealed just how excited she’d become.

“… you’re soaking wet.”

She felt her face burn, as simultaneously, her clit throbbed.

“Take out your paddle.”

She had a paddle in her handbag, she carried his paddle everywhere, a lingering reminder of her submission to his discipline. His rule was if she ever misbehaved in his company, she would take out the paddle, present it to him, and ask to be spanked. Then he’d lead her by the hand somewhere quiet, have her take off her panties and deposit them in his pocket, before he lifted her skirt and spanked her hard.

If she misbehaved alone, she was expected to confess her misdemeanours, and he would instruct her to spank herself. But sometimes she’d also use it on her own initiative, giving herself six quick spanks in the ladies toilets if she ever found herself the only one there. Lavatories with squeaky doors were the best, because they would serve to warn her of intruders, cruelly robbing her of the chance to be alone.

The Voice Memo facility on her phone was particularly useful for recording the sound of her smacking, allowing her to send him the evidence so he could hear for himself: that she was an obedient girl who understood the importance of self-discipline.

Sometimes she would lie back in bed with her earphones on and listened to the sounds of her own spankings. Stroking herself as she remembered the episode she was listening to.

He pronounced her sentence with a strictness that made her legs quake and her heart thump.

“You deserve a good hard spanking, young lady. On your bare bottom.”

As usual, he was right. She did deserve it. She craved it.

“Bend over.”

She leant forward, placing one hand on the seat of the chair she was straddling, so she could reach back and smack her own bottom with her paddle.

“6 smacks on each cheek.”

She followed his command, spanking hard so he couldn’t fail to hear her repentance in the severity of her whacks.

“6 more.”

Her bottom tingled.

“And again.”

Oh Sir. Yes.

“8 more for being such a naughty, naughty girl.”

She smacked her bottom hard, eager to demonstrate her contrition. Each stinging impact a reminder of how lucky she was to have a disciplinarian who was so strict with her.

“10 more. Nice and hard.”

The booth was supposed to be soundproof, its occupants came here for a peace and quiet after all. But she couldn’t help wondering if the sounds of her smacking were audible outside. Whether a small crowd might be gathering just beyond the thin door, curious and puzzled. Would they recognise it? How many would realise the faint clapping as the sound of a young woman having her bare bottom smacked? And if they did, would they snigger, or secretly wish to be behind the door themselves?

“12 more. Harder.”

Her bottom was now smouldering painfully. She could feel her dew dribbling from her lips, and smell the musky scent of her arousal filling the confined space. Had he not been be watching, she knew she’d have her fingers in her slit by now, savouring the pain, yet also rubbing the ache away.

“That’s enough. Corner time, girl. Step forward, and stand up straight in front of the door.”

She shuffled forward, clearing the chair, so she was standing naked in front of the booth’s thin opaque fibreglass door. She still had her back to her camera, so her spanked bottom remained prominently on display. She obediently put her hands on her head, just like he’d taught her to, and waited.

There was a small numeric display on the door latch, counting down the minutes and seconds until the booth was unlocked. She realised that if she remained in this position, whoever had booked the subsequent slot would open the door to the shock of their lives, a beautiful young woman standing naked with her hands on her head, her wetness dribbling from her bare puffy slit, her clothes folded neatly on the chair behind her.

The thought of being discovered thrilled her, in an almost visceral way. An excitement that only intensified as the time ticked away.

Soon, just five minutes remained.

The jeopardy of being caught had made her clit swell, so it know felt like a hard little button between her legs. A hard little button that needed to be repeatedly pressed. Filthy thoughts began to gatecrash her fevered mind.

Now, there were just two minutes to go. Still the phone behind her was silent. She longed to hear his voice. Anything.

She could feel her own juices dribbling down the inside of her thighs.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted her reverie.

She almost jumped out of her skin in shock. The true precariousness of her position made suddenly obvious, in less than 100 seconds the thin partition that separated her from the outside world would disappear, and she would be exposed. Utterly.

She could get dressed, of course. Disobey him. Again. Prove she couldn’t be trusted. Again.

She could turn around and show her weakness, earnestly covering herself like a shy little ingenue at the beach as she heard the disappointment in his voice.

Her tummy churned as the final minute disappeared from the counter, as it started counting down the remaining seconds. She knew the next customer would be watching on the other side, tired and tetchy, waiting impatiently for their turn.

Silence roared in her ears as she strained to hear his voice, the rustle of his clothes, the whisper of his breathing. Any clue that would signify he hadn’t forgotten about her plight, that he was an intake of breath away from releasing her from her torment.

She wanted to open her mouth, to plead. But she knew that wasn’t what spanked girls did in the corner. Spanked girls stood up straight with their sore pink bottoms on display, in silence, for as long as their disciplinarians deemed necessary. Spanked girls never turned around, or whined or begged, or dropped their hands to rub their bottoms. It didn’t matter if they were being watched, or left in the room all alone. Spanked girls stayed in place, on display, immobile. Wordlessly. Until they were told.

Her heart was now hammering in her chest. She could almost feel the outside world, pressing against the door of the booth, straining to get in. Did she trust him? Really trust him? Even if he’d decided her punishment was to be public humiliation?

30 seconds left.

She begged him silently under her breath, for his mercy, for his indulgence. She knew opening her mouth to speak without permission would be massively disrespectful, one that would surely condemn her to the most excruciating embarrassment.

20 seconds.

Oh Sir, please.

10… 9… 8…

There’d still be time, if only he’d give the order, just time enough to throw her dress over her head and preserve at least a shred of her modesty.

7… 6… 5… 4…

She felt her legs trembling, having to clench her pelvic muscles with all her might just to prevent peeing herself. She forced herself to keep her hands on her head. What a way to be discovered, standing in a little puddle, as your hot pee streams uncontrollably between your desperate fingers.

3… 2… 1…

The door opens, as she clenches her eyes tight.

As a solitary tear trickles down her cheek.

The hubbub of the world outside assaults her ears.

Yet something makes her open her weeping eyes.

His face looms in front of her, and she feels a euphoric surge. A rush better than any orgasm.

He envelops her in a hug, concealing her nakedness.

His mouth whispers into her ear. What a good girl. What a wonderful girl.

He tugs the door closed behind him.

She notices the timer on the latch has been reset. It seems they have another 30 minutes.

He embraces her, kissing her deeply, one arm around her shoulders, his free hand cupping her soaking slit.

He spins her around, lifting her forward until she’s straddling the chair.

She feels his hands grasp her hot stinging cheeks, splaying her buttocks apart, exposing her holes.

Inspections followed spankings. Always.

She can feel his hot breath between her legs. Then his rough tongue intruding between her slit, scraping upwards until it circles her bottom hole, tasting her obedience.

She hears his belt unbuckle, and his trousers sliding down his legs.

He reaches past her, tapping her phone screen a few times to activate the voice memo app.

I want you to keep this recording safe, he growls. Next time I put you in the corner, you can listen to me fucking you as you hold your sore bum apart.

She feels his stiffness against her wet entrance. He enters so easily.

The first sounds she’ll hear when she listens to this back will be the rustle of his trousers lowering, his deep voice talking about fucking, her own needy moans, and the sudden squelch of penetration.

She can see the little booth timer reflected on her phone screen. Twenty-six minutes and four seconds until the door unlocked. He’d last that long easily. She felt hands grip her breasts and the roar of hot breathing on her neck.

Her last rational thought before his deep thrusts switch off her mind is:

I do hope we can extend our stay.




@spankingtheatre 2018

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