The transition of two beautiful women, Samantha, a Domme and Charlotte, her submissive, the Head of Discipline and a pupil who met in the five volumes of ‘Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls’ into two fairy tale characters in a Magical Spanking Kingdom completes, in this part….
“Well then Princess Spanky, you had better come into my school room and find out what is in store for you.” Ordered the Governess of Spanking Dreams, as she strode over to stand by a small desk. “”Sit there.”
Charlotte went and sat on a lovely soft chair, as directed, her delicate, and perfectly plump bottom, ideal for reddening, settled into it, as she listened to her Mistress.
The Governess spoke, and the naughty girl listened.
“You are going to tell me all your naughty thoughts, and I am going to delight in punishing your beautiful bottom for every one of them. I will record them all, in my Journal of Spanking. Do you understand?”
With her Bottom twitching in anticipation, her pussy dribbling in erotic excitement, she bobbed about, squirming at every word she heard. Here was a Princess, who needed spanking, who desired it so much that in her private moments, and often not so private ones, thought of little else. Charlotte was truly in dreamland. The dreamland created by the Governess of Spanking Dreams.
“Yes, I understand and delight in what you have just said my beautiful Mistress.”
They both drifted into spanking folk lore, spanking fairy tales, and into an emporium of spanking dreams.
The outside world slowly faded.
The room that Samantha had created was for now, their whole world.
In that world, the story began.
Once upon a time…
…in a dreamworld far far away, lived an erotic, beautiful creator of spanking dreams. Known as the ‘Governess of Spanking Dreams’.
A young girl, with a deep love of spanking, yearning for a red sore bottom from someone she could call ‘Mistress’ and love, entered the Magic Kingdom of Spanking. She found a Castle, with an open door. She felt drawn to it, as if hooked around the neck with an invisible crook handled cane, and led there, in a trance.
The young girl was a beautiful Princess, called Princess Spanky. She was on a quest, not to kill a dragon like a fabled knight, but to learn a skill, a joy, and to find a rare gem. A blushing red diamond, bigger than a goose egg, and the colour of a well spanked bottom.
The gem held a secret.
The secret was, to be able to achieve the worlds most powerful, grand, and gloriously wonderful orgasm, through the wonderful art of Spanking.
That Jewel in the Spanking Crown, unbeknown to the Princess, was the Governess of Spanking Dreams. She alone knew the skill that the non innocent Princess sought. With a flicking tongue, finger tips as soft as eiderdown, and knowledge gained from a million spankings, she could almost make a pussy fly.
The Governess, commanding the theatre of dreams, in her little punishment room, high up in the turret of a castle, overlooking a beautiful kingdom of pain, picked up a flexible, rattan, cane. She flexed it, and stared at the young trembling princess.
She looked all powerful, a yielder of glorious pain, a deliverer of sensual spankings. Armed with spells, spells that could make a bottom sing in spanking glory like the archangels of heaven.
She sprinkled her blushing pink Spanky dust over Princess Spanky.
She was dewy eyed, she was enchanted, she was in love. She desired punishment. Her quest was over. The Princess of our spanking fairy tale, had reached her goal, and was now cradled in the arms of The Governess of Spanking Dreams for ever.
It is now time dear reader, to let the spankings begin…
The wait for her spanking was over, she knew it was going to sting, even hurt, terribly, but she needed it so very much. Even though the first stings were about to come, she could not resist pushing her bottom up to greet them, wanting desperately to please her Mistress, and present her bottom well…
And Mistress did just that, hard and fast! She needed to see this wonderful bottom blush and wriggle. Charlotte wriggled the best she could, letting out her yelps, which Mistress adored so much.
SMACK….SMACK….SMACK…SMACK….SMACK….SMACK!!
“Ohh, ooooh, owwww, yeeow, ohhhhhh!”
Before long her beautiful plump, ripe, bottom was red. Her Mistress rested her hand on her cheek, ready to give her creases a good spanking. The heat on her palm was divine, she savoured it…
“God your bottom is perfect for spanking Charlotte!” Said a delighted, and moist, Samantha.
“So glad you like it enough to spank my beautiful Mistress, can I have some more please?”
Samantha smiled, “Oh my darling, yes…yes you can!”
You looked back at the door you had just left, the spanking you gave the naughty schoolgirl who said she couldn’t stop masturbating about thoughts of spankings was wonderful, you went to the next door and peeped in…
The same girl was stood there again! She smiled, lowered her knickers, pulled up her skirt and showed you her pussy. “I am being naughty again Sir.” She said, and started fingering herself…”Oh Sir, your spanking was perfect, my bottom feels lovely. Will you watch me cum before you go for your next spanking session?”
She masturbated hard, and fast, as you watched. Within minutes she was a crumpled up heap on the floor, in throws of a massive orgasm…”Oh Sir, I love you watching me…eeeeee…mmmmmmm oooooooh ohhhhh oooooooh!”
You said that she was welcome, and moved on, to look through the next door.
“Will you whack my bottom with a riding crop as I ride this little horse Sir?” Asked the lovely girl inside. How could you resist? You looked to the door opposite.
“Fancy watching a bottom wriggle as it gets a good spanking with a hairbrush Mister?”
What a choice, a brainwave came. You said, “Yes please, I will watch from in this room.” So you went to the girl and told her to get on the horse. You picked up a crop and walloped her bottom, whilst glancing over to the other room to watch the hairbrush turn a beautiful bottom bright red. Their show ended, and the room went dark.
You walked to front of the girl, now with a well striped bottom and a flushed sweaty face, and removed your manhood from your trousers. “Open wide dear.”
The girl opened her mouth, and you slid your cock inside. “Now rock!”
The girl rocked back and forth until you spurted down her throat.
Gasping, you walked out. The light went off and you could hear her gagging and spitting. You smiled, and rested. You put your now limp manhood back, and looked up the corridor. Whatever next?
Shona the bully was crushed, and defeated. She did not know how to cope, she fell to pieces, pleading and crying.
All to no avail.
Charlotte was stood nearest to the chair that Mrs.Pollard had placed before the three victims of Shona’s cruel spiteful bullying. She sat down on it.
Shona gathered herself a little. The reality of the proceedings was there before her. She has been found to be a bully, thoughts of the horrid things she had done to the three girls came into her mind. She could hear her own cruel spiteful words. Her three main victims were going to spank her, she was humiliated. She knew that news of this would spread like wild fire. She was doomed…there was no escape.
Mrs Pollard spoke. “Right Charlotte, do it on her bare bottom, as hard and long as you like. Do not stop until you are satisfied. Over you go Shona.”
What a situation. Three victims of bullying, all allowed to exact punishment on their tormentor, one by one, as hard and as long as they liked. Mrs Pollard watched in triumph. Shona laid across Charlotte’s lap, trembling and afraid, just like the girls had been before her, when she was nasty, threatening, and spiteful towards them.
Revenge was sweet.
Charlotte looked to her friends. All smiled at each other with smug satisfaction.
“Give it to her hard, make her scream Charlotte!” Said Stephanie.
“Yes, make her squeal and cry, then we can tell the whole school about it all.” Added Samantha.
Charlotte looked down to her defenceless prey. “Did you hear that? Hmmm? We are going to spank you, very very hard, and very very long. Then, we are going to tell everyone all about it. You are going to look very very silly before the whole school! You have lost! You will bully us and our friends no more! We… have.. won!”
She took her time to bare her bottom.
Mrs.Pollard watched her sliding Shona’s knickers down, and added, ” Well, as regards to the whole school hearing about it, I think a lot will hear it first hand. The ventilation windows are open, and sound travels far in this school, what with the Quadrangle, and the cloisters!”
How embarrassing for the spiteful girl! Her bare bottom was bare before them, and she had a horrifying thought. “My tampon is in, I am just finishing my period.”
And then…
Her first spanking began. Charlotte looked at the pale white, small bottom before her, raised her hand and SMACK!
‘Owwwww!”
The once mighty, scary, threatening bully, demanding ‘Protection Money’… “Or Else!” Now looked fragile, small, weedy, and ridiculous! Her bottom up high and bare, wriggling and crying.
What a delight it was for Samantha and Stephanie, to see their friend venting her anger on the spiteful girl’s bare bottom, every single shriek was music to their ears, every sign of humiliation and pain was a joy to see.
On and on it went, SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK, she squealed, she screamed, and all it did was encourage Charlotte to spank harder and faster, she threw herself into her mission wholeheartedly!
Stephanie and Samantha urged her on and on! Charlotte was out of breath, she was putting so much into every smack.
Eventually, exhausted after the physical exertion of delivering a full blooded spanking, Charlotte stopped. Shona was screaming endlessly, the two other girls were laughing and pointing, ridiculing her, eager for their turns!
Clutching her bottom and bawling like a baby, Shona knelt before them. Mrs.Pollard urged them not to lose time and to change over quickly. “Let’s keep it going girls, her bottom needs to feel a fresh hand!”
“Waaaah waaaah, stop stop, pleeeeeeease stop! I cannot take anymore, STOP STOP STOP…..SOMEBODY MAKE IT STOP!”
Of course, there was nobody to make it stop. They loved to see what was happening and were determined to make it ten times worse for the horrid, heartless girl.
For me, spanking has always been a very erotic/sexual experience whether I am delivering or receiving one. Usually, I see spanking as a prelude to subsequent sex, but sometimes the two can be combined simultaneously if you have a patient and willing partner! There are, of course, some lucky women who are able to have orgasms purely from the stimulus of having their bottoms spanked hard. Unfortunately, I am not one of them and require additional stimulation to cum. I have been spanked and ‘finger-fucked’ on a number of occasions, and each time the combination of the two has produced wonderful orgasms. The finger can, of course, be used to stimulate both the vagina as well as the anus if the latter floats your boat!
I recently came across a lovely short video starring Zille Defeu in which she pays a visit to a ‘Mr Spanky’ to get her bottom spanked whilst he finger fucks her. It is an incredibly erotic scene, shot in semi-darkness. It takes him just over 7 minutes to make her come. Here are two collages of screenshots from the movie which is available somewhere on the internet if you care to search for it.
This scene reminded me of the first chapter of a classic Victorian erotic novel called ‘Miriam’ written by ‘Anonymous’, although Blue Moon books published it in 2004, written supposedly by an author called Patrick Henden. The novel concerns the sexual education of a 17-year old girl called Miriam by her young French teacher, ‘Mademoiselle Aline d’Arville’. She is subject to fairly mild spankings, strappings and canings designed to excite and ‘warm her up’ for subsequent sexual activities rather than to punish her. The author writes in a very erotic fashion, so I thought I would quote most of the first chapter to wet your appetite! The ebook version is now available on ‘Kobo.com’.
The first chapter is probably the most erotic as far as spanking officiandos are concerned. In this chapter Miriam first becomes acquainted with the pleasures of having her bottom spanked. After a visit to the headmistress of her school, where she is fairly lightly birched over her open drawers, she then has to report to her French mistress who spanks her bare bottom with one hand whilst she ‘twiddles’ her, with the other, ultimately bringing her to orgasm. The photographs used to illustrate the text are not in the original book.
“YOU ARE TO see Miss Collet in her study at five, Miriam.”
These fateful words being uttered to me were to change my entire life, though I knew it not. I was then approaching my seventeenth birthday—a boarding school “Miss” who often yearned for the greater comforts of home than “Grangemoor” afforded. I was a quiet girl and not given to mischief. The reasons for my having to see the Principal were therefore rather mysterious to me. I could only, however, accept with a demure nod the dictate of my French Mistress, Mademoiselle Aline d’Arville.
The glances that were cast upon me by the other girls surrounding me at that moment in the classroom filled me with a certain apprehension. One was rarely if ever sent to Miss Collet to be praised. Perhaps she had some news of home to give me? Such thoughts increased my perturbation. Apprehending this from the expression on my face, Mademoiselle d’Arville approached me again and bent over me to whisper, “There is nothing wrong. You are merely to have a lesson.”
My astonishment at this was great, for the Principal never descended to teaching herself, except very occasionally to condescend to a group of the most senior girls. I felt flattered and yet remained uneasy. In the latter respect my instincts worked well, as shall be seen.
Long did the two hours drag until the hour approached for me to present myself. Having knocked upon the door of Miss Collet’s study, I was held in waiting for several moments before it was opened by Cynthia Martin, the head girl. She was devilishly attractive, though putting on many airs and being whispered to be a distinct favourite of several of the younger teachers. She appeared slightly flushed of face and her hair awry, though at the time I put this down to my imagination. I could not help but take note, however, that two of the buttons of her dress were undone close to her bosom, and such untidiness struck me as exceedingly odd.
“You may enter. The Principal is ready to see you,” she said. Catching then my perhaps over-searching glance, she fiddled with the loose buttons and went out past me. I thereupon made my entrance very nervously and with uncertain steps, being told by Miss Collet— who was seated at her desk—to enter sharply and close the door. Upon doing so and approaching her, I noticed with surprise that a small birch lay upon the polished surface of her small writing desk, which stood to one side of the main one.
I was then put to questions about the progress of my education during the past six months of my tenure, which I thought I answered well enough. All the time, however, I had a strange feeling that Miss Collet was regarding me with a faint admixture of amusement and sadness, which quite put me out for I lost track of what I was saying.
“You appear to have made reasonable progress, Miriam, in English literature, in geography and history. Your knowledge of French, however, is sadly lacking,” Miss Collet opined to my bemusement, for I thought I had got on reasonably well with all the horrid verbs and strange words.
“Oh, but I have tried,” I stammered.
“Not enough, I fear, Miriam. I mean to give you a little lesson in applying yourself. Go to the couch there, raise your skirt to your hips and kneel upon it.”
Her words struck me like a thunderclap. I had never so much as been spanked until that moment and could not believe what I was hearing. My expression made this evident, as did the stumbling but incomprehensible words that tumbled from my lips. I believe indeed that I moved a step back from her desk, though not making to turn in the direction of the couch, which was covered in black velvet. At this her eyes narrowed and she rose.
“You will not disobey me, Miriam?”
“Oh, Madam, no, but…
“There are no ‘buts,’ my dear, when it comes to attending to a young girl’s bottom,” was the response, at which she came round her desk and took my elbow. Being thus guided to the couch, I all but fell upon it, which caused her to tut loudly.
“Position yourself properly! Full up on hands and knees with your hips and posterior bared. What pretty drawers you are wearing! They may remain on for this occasion, though I vow this will be the first and last birching you will receive through them.”
I misunderstood her words, taking it to be that I was to receive only this one admonition for sins and omissions that I felt sure I had not committed. Shamefully wreathing up my dress as she bid me to, I waited while Miss Collet walked back to the escritoire and picked up the birch. Approaching me again from the rear, she then twitched it across the backs of my thighs, which made me jerk and utter a small cry, though the twigs were softened.
“There are two lessons I have to teach you, Miriam. The first is that French verbs will be learned in all their conjugations. The second is that a well-brought-up young lady makes the least noise under the birch. It disconcerts others and merely leads to further application of the twigs. Do you understand?”
“Y… y… yes, Madam.”
“Your posture, Miriam, is appalling. You dismay me. Dip your back, girl, and make your bottom more prominent. Good heavens, has your papa never spanked or birched you?”
“Oh, no, Madam!” I ejaculated while uneasily endeavouring to obey her wishes. My body being supple, I was able to globe my bottom up to her while praying that she would accord me only the lightest strokes.
Such wishfulness was soon to be dispersed. A swishing sound, caused by the twigs passing rapidly through the air, came to my ears and then almost simultaneously I felt their burning sweep across my half-moons. So burning indeed was it that a racking cry of alarm broke from me, which I instantly attempted to muffle. My hips twitched and my bottom cheeks squeezed beneath the stretched white cotton of my drawers.
“This, my dear, is then your bottom’s christening,” said Miss Collet with what I miserably thought was a trickle of laughter in her voice, though this too I put down to my imagination. Humped over as I was, I could see naught but the inky blackness of the velvet under my eyes. It being warm to the touch, I realised with astonishment that Cynthia must have also knelt upon it. Her face had not looked distraught, however, as I felt mine did at the second sweeping of the twigs, which again caught me full across my bulge and caused me to swallow down a cry as best I could.
“AAAARGH!” The cry burst from me unwittingly, for there was no pause between the second and the third, which, if anything, basted my poor nether cheeks more fiercely and caused my hips to squirm fiercely. Already I felt as if my bottom were on fire.
“You must try to be quiet, Miriam! This is only the beginning of your teaching,” Miss Collet admonished me and thus upsetting—to my mind—what she had said before about the first and last time. Naive as I was, I did not appreciate that on all future occasions my bottom would be bared for it. It was truly my one and only with my drawers on. Such conjectures were not then, however, in my mind. I heard the outpourings of my own breath, which came in would-be muffled gasps and cries as now the birch assailed my left cheek and my right and vice versa until I was wriggling all about. Miss Collet did not, however, seem put out by this and by devious movements of her arm and wrist was able to follow my contortions so that at no time did my bottom escape the twigs but rather suffered all the more.
I sobbed, I covered my eyes, I strove to contain the urging heat and the stinging, yet I felt I could not. So insistently did the birch assail me that I thought it would never end. Only afterwards did I learn with great astonishment that I had received but a round dozen. It seemed like hundreds. Every inch of my globes sparkled with fire, while my cheeks were perfectly wet with my tears.
“Up with you now, girl, and stand!” I heard of a sudden, and even though I felt I could not move, I was minded at least to escape that awful swishing and so somehow scrambled to my feet with my skirt all awry about my waist. I made indeed to tug at it, but a sharp sally of the birch across my right wrist caused me to cry out and desist.
“When you are told to stand, you stand!” Miss Collet admonished me. I could see her but through a veil of tears. My hips wriggled. I could not help myself. Standing before me, she appeared to drink in all that she saw, from the tips of my boots to my white stocking tops and the lightly swelling columns of flesh that rose up from them.
“You will continue to stand so for a few moments while I attend to some papers,” I was told. I found it difficult to do so. Above all I wanted to clutch at my hot bottom and squeeze the cheeks gently to try and rid them of the awful stinging. Afraid that I might get another swishing, however, I stood as still as I could, being very conscious of my skirt all drawn up and my legs showing. For long, long moments I was ignored while the Principal, seated again at her desk, perused I know not what accounts or reports, though she appeared to do so with eagle eye, her pen now and again twitching across a sheet of paper as though to correct what was written.
After a seeming eternity, she raised her eyes to me again. My tears had dried. A warm glowing was slowly announcing itself in my bottom cheeks as the stinging sensation receded. Again she appeared to weigh me up. Then, appearing satisfied, she nodded.
“Restore yourself neatly, Miriam, and report now to Mademoiselle d’Arville,” she said.
Only too glad to escape her presence, I made such a half-bow, half-curtsey as she ever expected of us, covered myself, and blundered to the door. Was I now to be chastised again, or admonished, by Mademoiselle? I could not understand it. She had always been most proper and friendly with me and had rarely chided me herself for my shortcomings in trying to learn her language.
The corridors were by then deserted, for most of the pupils were resting just before the evening meal. Happy not to be seen in my present state, I made my way upstairs to Mademoiselle’s quarters where—seemingly listening for my approach—she immediately opened the door and waved me within. It was not a room I had entered before, being a small but rather prettily furnished one with a bedroom adjacent.
“You have been attended to, then?” she asked me, seating herself. I nodded, but then remembering myself said as quietly as I could that indeed I had been. “Come here, then. Stand sideways before me.”
This curious injunction being obeyed, I found the side of my knees touching her own.
“Is your bottom still warm?” she asked, the question throwing me so off balance that I knew not what to reply.
“You are shy?” She laughed. “Come now, we must have no shyness. You have been initiated—that is all. It happens to many of the girls here. Let me see, Miriam. Draw your skirt up and loosen the ties of your drawers.” I was aghast at her request to thus exhibit my shame. The glowing in my cheeks reached deep into me and there was a tingling, too, which caused me still to stir my hips. I wanted least of all to be looked at then.
“Miriam—obey me!” she snapped, though in a voice that was always exceedingly attractive and a trifle “throaty” by reason of her accent. I gulped, I swallowed. My skirt being drawn up once more, my fingers trembled about the ties of my drawers, which, being loosened slowly, made a tremulous descent down my thighs. Creasing about first at my knees, they appeared to hesitate and then as with a silent sigh cascaded to my ankles. My bottom was now bared to her, in profile.
Biting my lip I felt the lightest of butterfly touches as her fingertips assailed the pert mound.
“Yes, it is warm indeed,” she murmured. “You were told to stand still afterwards?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle.”
“It is the simplest and yet the best of lessons. You must not forget it, though you may not always be required to get up. The same injunction to be still will obtain if you are kneeling or bending over. You must never spring up. Do you understand? Tu comprends?”
“Yes—oui—Mademoiselle.” I quivered, however, as I said it, for her palm had now cupped my bottom as much as it was able to and pressed gently upwards into the quivering, warm flesh. Extending itself, her thumb brushed suavely into my groove, making me start as it expanded the cleft.
“Still—always be still, until you are taught otherwise. Look straight to your front—neither up nor down. It is I who will progress you now.”
These words being said to me filled me with utter astonishment. I was minded for a minute to turn my face to hers, but remembered myself in time. Receiving a nudge then from her knees, I was forced to move a little sideways while she rose from her chair and stood close to my hip. Her hand encompassed the lower bulge of my bottom still.
“It throbs a little, Miriam, does it not, and yet the heat pervades you rather more pleasantly now than it did hitherto when you were under the twigs. That is in part their purpose. It is I who must bring you up more, for that is my duty. You are already past an age at which many pretty young girls have been birched, strapped, caned, or spanked, and then twiddled. Keep your dress well up in front, Miriam. Higher!”
“Oh!” I exclaimed softly, receiving a distinct pinch at my posterior from her thumb and forefinger. Inching up my dress, I exposed myself to my navel while wondering why I must do so.
“That is good. You are displayed now, my dear, as you often must be after a bottom tanning, light as I suspect it was, for your sweet cheeks are scarcely bleared now with red. Keep your chin up and move your ankles further apart.”
So saying, and while I shuffled my feet uneasily in obeying, she placed her free hand under my chin. I indeed felt then “on display.” Tears glittered in my eyes. I had never so parted my legs before, even before my mirror. My drawers were stretched by my ankles to bursting point.
“I am going to ask you several questions now, Miriam. At each I will give you a sharp smack. Whether you receive a second immediately after will be dependent on the speed and truthfulness of your responses. Now, girl—did Miss Collet hurt you?”
SMACK!
“AAAAH!” I gasped, for even though she had warned me, the quick slapping of her palm into my resilient cheeks stung me bitterly. “Y… y… yes!” I blathered and then SMACK! again, and still my chin was held and I was forced to gaze frontwards, away from her.
How rapidly the mind works in such circumstances! It is said that one’s whole life flashes before one while drowning. I can quite believe it, for in but a fraction of a second—-indeed the time between two smacks, as it were—I knew my errors. I had been untruthful. Miss Collet had stung me dreadfully with the birch, but she had not actually hurt me.
“No-woh!” I sobbed, this appearing to satisfy Mademoiselle, who then asked me, “When you entered my room, was your bottom still stinging?”—“Yes! no!” I choked, and just quickly enough to avert another smack. “Did you not feel pleasure, Miriam—a little at least—in the aftermath?”
“Oh, I…” I began and SMACK! How her palm did sting! My bottom cheeks wobbled and burned. My legs being apart, I could do no other than jerk my hips forward in receding from the smack. “Yes, yes!” I sobbed and—lo—then only did the truth burst upon me, for in making my way along the corridors all pain had receded and I recalled feeling a pleasurable though faintly stinging glow…
Once more now Mademoiselle cupped my bottom tightly. So much so that my heels rose a little off the carpet and I teetered, though held in front still ‘neath my chin.
“What a pretty filly you are,” she chuckled and so reminded me that I was all but being held like one. “Now I shall ask you a further question, Miriam, and you will again answer it upon the instant. When your bottom has been heated, do you not wish to press it into something, as for instance my hand?” So saying her left hand moved down swiftly from my face and laid its fingers delicately spread beneath my Venus mount where the springy curls impressed themselves upon her touch. “Y… y… yes!” I gritted, for I recalled also my desire to hold myself after Miss Collet had birched me. Now I was even of a greater tremble, for Mademoiselle’s forefinger at the front had laid itself slyly upwards until it nudged the lips of my cunny.
“You are moist. That is to the good. What a delightful girl you will be to play with,” she murmured. I had not recovered from the remark, nor my conflicting emotions and sensations, when both her hands dropped away from me, leaving me feeling utterly bereft. Remembering myself, I took care not to lower my dress at front or back, though I feared a little any further attentions to my bottom.
Circling me slowly, Mademoiselle drank in the shamelessness of my revealment.
“You are a little above average height, which is pleasing. Your legs are long and support your bottom nobly. Take care of your figure well so that your waist remains slender for by doing so you will give greater allure to the curving of your hips. Your bottom is deeply cleft and your cunny nicely furred. In all you are a perfect treasure. What a shame that you have not been spanked and twiddled before this, but your pleasures are all to come. You understand what I am saying?”
“Tw… tw… twiddled, Mademoiselle?” I stammered, for the term was new to me.
“By heating the bottom, Miriam, the hips are made to jerk, back and forth. The tummy ripples with pleasure. The legs being kept apart, as I have instructed you now, you are perfectly displayed. It is at such moments that your cunt may be teased a little with the finger while your bottom is rebounding from the smacks. Thus you will be brought to pleasure.” “Oh, Mademoiselle!” I could not help ejaculating, for I had never dreamed to hear the like of this.
A soft, husky laugh then came from her. Approaching me once more while still I held my posture, she cupped her palm more frankly beneath my cunt, pressing up to it gently while the heel of her hand moved back and forth, so causing me strange and sickly-sweet sensations such as I could never hope to describe.
“Like this, you little darling,” she murmured and therewith, rubbing her thumb all about my spot, began smacking my bumptious cheeks lightly. At every one I uttered an “OOOOH!” for I was now subject to two sensations back and front. “Lean your head back and kiss me,” she purred, “or I will smack you the harder.”
I did so. I could not help myself. How soft and liquid was her lovely mouth, for she was no more than ten years senior to me. Her smacks increased, not in ferocity but in speed, as did the movements of the ball of her thumb, which made my clitoris swell and distend. I could scarce catch my breath. The tip of her tongue touched my own. I all but swooned, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! her palm sounded on my hot cheeks.
“Ah, it is lovely. Wriggle your bottom, my sweet, for soon you will be taught to do so to even greater pleasures. Bend your knees a little. Give me your tongue!”
My bottom was now so hot that I scarce knew what I was at save that a certain delirium seized me. Our tongues flicked, my hips jerked. I felt that I was melting. Twisting the upper part of my body about I clung to her. I quivered, I sobbed, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Then I erupted, I came. The salty liquid of my treasure pot leapt in trembling streams over her fingers.
I was converted.
In the absence of a ambidexterous spanker, there are a range of other possible way of combining spanking with sexual stimulation. A while ago, I posted a piece entitled ‘Birching and Orgasms’ in which a spankee sitting astride a narrow spanking horse can grind her pussy against the ‘saddle’ as she bucks, wriggles and writhes in response to the stinging stokes of a birch. Recently I came across an image of a rather ingenious looking spanking horse equipped with a conveniently positioned rubber ‘knob’ for the spankee to rub herself on, I believe it to be a vibrator, called a ‘magic wand’, although a suction dildo attached to the seat of the horse might be even better. It would be nice to have one of these, but it’s a bit big and cumbersome to have in your house and clearly not easy to disguise from the wandering eyes of uninitiated vanilla visitors.
To finish off, here is a collage from the work of Red Charls (the photographer featured in my story post ‘Suspended and whipped’) showing a woman spanked firmly bent astride a man’s hard, hairy knee. Clearly such a position would provide ample opportunity for the woman to stimulate herself, enabling the spanker to concentrate on spanking her rather lovely petite French derriere! The bottom image clearly shows the woman very relaxed, loving the treatment she is receiving!
Lucy had said that my spanking for the fine was no more than a tickle, the one for my poor dictation grade sure did more than tickling.
Jean had also smacked my upper thighs. I protested that it might show under my mini and he said that it would teach me to keep it down. I called him a beast, and he added more stingy smacks.
He helped me up, and I did quite a dance with frantically rubbing my throbbing bum and thighs with both hands under my skirt. He gave me a hug and offered to give me a rub with cold cream. I nodded with a smile and surprised him as I took off my skirt and went to stand in the corner of our living room with my hands atop my head.
I felt that I deserved to expose my glowing bum in the corner after having received la fessée cul nu like a lazy schoolgirl.
I was wriggling my throbbing bum in the corner when I heard the front doorbell. I expected Jean to release me from my corner time, but he didn’t. I prayed that it wouldn’t be some neighbor. It wasn’t. It was George, and Jean must have known he was coming. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, but pressed myself further into the corner so that he wouldn’t see my curls. George had me shamefully blushing as he teased with. “Naughty girl spanked after her first day in school!”
Jean told me to prepare tea. I quickly grabbed my mini and disappeared in the kitchen. I again rubbed my still fiery bum and thighs, and five minutes later I blushed crimson as I realized that I would have to bend down in front of George to deliver the tray with tea on the coffee table and next to my knickers.
Once done and still blushing, I was about to grab my knickers when George said. “After a spanking, Lucy remains bare butt till the evening, and that applies wherever we have to go.” I left my knickers on the coffee table with a pout. Jean told me to sit at our dining room table to do my homework. Miss Fritton had given me grammar exercises pertaining to my specific mistakes.
Later, Jean gave me a rub and taught me a new English slang word. It was ‘shagging’ and I thoroughly enjoyed the demo!
Next morning, I had adjusted my kilt so as to hide my still well reddened thighs. Lucy immediately saw it. “You best adjust it as short as mine or all the girls will be laughing for the silly, prudish French filly.”
I didn’t want to be the laughingstock of our little school and rolled up my kilt as yesterday. While I did that, she danced around me and tried to raise it. I failed to chase her. She eventually raised it and teased. “Hahahaha! You got your ass tanned like a real English schoolgirl!”
I had a look in the tall mirror of our hallway and saw red blotches peeking under my miniskirt. It was actually barely noticeable, but for me it was like the nose in the middle of one’s face.
At school, none of the girls missed that softy Frenchy girl was well tanned. Lucinda teased, “It was only a few smacks with a hairbrush. Hold your bets, girls, wait till she tastes a good belting.” I later learned that the odds for me to chicken out were now even. I was kinda proud.M
Once in class, Miss Fritton called Amy and me, the two who had flunked the dictation. She told us to stand next to her desk up on her professorial platform. “Turn around, face the classroom, and raise your skirts.” She was satisfied with our chastisement. Although we were facing the classroom and only Miss Fritton saw our bums, I felt a warm glow. I was for sure blushing as red as a British mailbox.
I couldn’t blush more when she read aloud the report from Jean. “I have added a few smacks to her upper thighs because she was rude with me.” Later, while riding back home, Lucy and I tried to imagined what our boys were discussing when having lunch at the lab’s cafeteria.
The Boys Lunch…
Having sat at their favorite table, Jean and George were soon discussing their equally favorite subject… ‘Spanking’
George passed comment on how they had both been blessed with girls who had beautiful bottoms. “…you gave her a lovely spanking Jean; the red was so evenly spread. You are becoming quite a bottom artist.”
Jean blushed himself at the praise, and confirmed what had been said to him. “Oh, I am so glad we came here. The English love of spanking has soon entered our souls. She protests, of course, and wriggles! The little yelps at every smack are such a turn on! We make love at some point afterwards, do you?”
“Oh God, yes, there is nothing like a spanking session to prepare us for a good shag!” He laughed in return.
It was like a ‘Professor of Spanking’ feeding information and techniques to a hungry pupil.
Techniques, positions, implements were all discussed. Corner time was eagerly consumed. Then they talked of red bottoms, and especially how they look so tantalizingly lovely when poking out from under a tartan mini skirt, especially one which is unsuccessfully being held down to cover it… George then came out with an idea. “Let’s walk up by the girls’ high school at lunch, and see how many embarrassed young ladies we can see. My record is eight in one lunch hour! Let’s try to beat it!”
“Great idea!”
So, we took a slow walk by Saint Mary. We saw only one young lady with a red bum, but it was the sighting of the year! Three bullies up-skirted and de-knickered one of their classmates.
This weeks photograph from Miss S, I now call her Miss DéMure, is this lovely photograph…
So what are your thoughts for us Miss DéMure?
She takes a big breath….”well….This is only a small image but one of my favourites. I have made a few comments below….
I imagine this to be a student in lodgings with a couple while at collage. Perhaps caught breaking the rules about appropriate dress! White seems to suggest a kind of naivety. The gentleman is enjoying his good fortune and will be in no hurry. And the girl is becoming excited by the attention and a strange new experience. But we can imagine she will be learning rather a lot in the next hour or so!”
Another interesting section in my blog you might not have come across.
Don’t forget how big my collection of pages are, there are little gems hiding in corners all over the place. Take a stroll down the dusty corridors of my spanking emporium, see what you can find.
