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…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=40558

…oooOOOooo…

I have noticed the comments left on this post, they are very informative, please take time to read them.

continued…

A ‘buoyancy’ of bottoms (collective noun, OED)

Four fat young bottoms fresh from the pool, wet costumes clinging to thighs and in other places, damp skin glistening in the cold light of the changing room. A slender cane for these plump, pushed-out bums, and a portly, stern-faced gentleman to organise the proper presentation of those same.

Can’t we just imagine the breathless flurry of spray in which each of these girls swam her two lengths, lunging desperately for the wall to give the next member of the relay team the best possible start in the inevitable race against the teacher’s stopwatch at the end of every training session?

Can’t we hear the sharp Smack of palm against wet buttocks as the toe-touching girl next on the starting block was sent off on her two lengths with a resounding spank to urge her to her very best efforts?

Can’t we picture the exhausted girls as they flopped out of the pool at the end of their relay leg, panting for breath, half in and half out of the water, hips athwart the pool’s tiled edge and bums balanced in ideal positions to catch a spank or two from their impatient coach?

Can’t we see the huddle of bum-cheeks and the plucking-down-a-little of sopping costumes around half-bare bottoms as the team hurried off to the changing rooms and their twice-weekly pep talk, and can’t we imagine the hopefulness in their young faces as they told each other that this time, surely, they must have beaten their trainer’s target time!

All this, and more, is here in this compact illustration of the girls’ twice weekly disappointment as their coach announces their failure to match up to his expectations yet again. These chubby young bottoms are going to feel that nasty cane; of that we can be sure!

Their coach announces their failure to match up to his expectations yet again. These chubby young bottoms are going to feel that nasty cane; of that we can be sure!

And what of the gentleman with the cane?

His is a job for which he must have volunteered, surely. Let’s picture him beside the pool with his stopwatch as the girls plough up and down with their polystyrene floats thrust out in front of them and their legs kicking determinedly behind.

It’s a constant source of amazement to him. How is it that they’re so buoyant? How is it that they can float along like that with so much of their bums pushing up out of the water? It’s fascinating — he could watch it for ages, the way their bottoms sort of swivel and bounce and wobble like that. It’s — well, it’s distinctly lewd, that’s what it is! He thinks he’ll have them do another length or two —.

That’s the beauty of one-piece swimming costumes, of course. If you’re taking detention then naturally it’s perfectly alright to tell a girl to take her knickers down. No-one minds that. But eyebrows would certainly be raised if you told a girl to take her blouse off, and then her bra! But with one-piece swimming costumes — well, you can’t very well have her take her costume down without her little tits popping out, can you? And not always so little, of course, with sixth-formers like these. Pedants could always say that a caning even with their costumes on would leave you plenty of bare bum to aim at. But that wouldn’t be the same somehow. One acquires little habits; little ways of doing things. It wouldn’t be the same at all if you didn’t tell them to take something down.

He declares that his team have failed to attain the target time by eleven seconds. The girls risk a whispered protest, though without any real hope that the implied sentence will be mitigated. Eleven seconds; eleven strokes. Each. Three of the girls will get theirs now; Annabel will get hers later, after her ‘special lesson’. There are ‘special lessons’ for one of the girls after each training session, and tonight it is Annabel’s turn to pretend that she doesn’t know what the point of ‘special lessons’ really is. She won’t ask why she isn’t allowed to keep her costume on while she balances on her tummy across a tall stool and practises her breast-stroke in thin air. She’ll draw her knees up just as high as she’s told to and hide her blushes as teacher’s hand slips under her belly from between her legs and coaxes her hips up, up into the required ‘bottom-high’ position. She will no longer pretend to herself that by being a ‘good girl’ she will be let off the eleven strokes that she has to come, but she’ll be a ‘good girl’ anyway because that’s what’s expected of her. Annabel will be a little late for supper.

Mandy hasn’t pulled her costume right down and she gets a waspish stroke as a reminder full across her pert damp bottom. She whimpers and presses her belly and breasts against the chill tiles and yanks her costume down to her thighs. Her eleven strokes come at measured intervals, each one making her jerk against the wall, she squirms agitatedly until she can force herself to thrust her tender bottom out for the next one. She dangles from the coat-hooks when he has finished with her, mewing plaintively.

Gillian too squeezes herself up against the wall, but keeps her bum pushed out for the cane to tease and pat-pat-pat between whacks. Her bottom glows with neat reddening cane-marks while she weeps quietly and her tears roll down to her bare breasts and a teardrop plops onto the seat on which she is kneeling from the tip of an erect little nipple.

Annabel, whose turn will be delayed, presses her thighs together and goes all trembly at the sight of her friend’s bottom jerking under the cane. She has no way out, she knows that her bottom too will be shimmying just like Gillian’s within the next half-hour, and suddenly she is crying along with the other girls, dread of what’s to come pushing her beyond the brink of tears.

Barbara’s bottom, that bottom which of all bottoms has perhaps felt the cane more often than any other in the school simply because it is so delightfully plump and responsive to the painful stimulus of a well-applied cane, jumps more than anyone’s even before it gets a proper stroke, and it must be admitted that in truth it is the very liveliness of poor Barbara and her most caneable bum which has made her so popular amongst the more discerning members of the staff. She has a way of maximising the excitement of bottom-caning a girl by her remarkably suggestive reaction to even the mildest of strokes, snatching her hips first forward then back, and then oscillating her behind while she presses her thighs together and whispers childish pleas to her punisher to take pity on what she endearingly calls her ‘Bum-bum’. Had she any insight at all into the arousing effects which her performance has on those staff members who almost queue up to get her knickers down, she would doubtless modify her antics; as it is, she gets her full eleven strokes with plenty of time in between to undulate and wriggle and generally invite the next stroke to be harder out of pure curiosity to see what the girl might do next! Her breasts jiggle daintily as she sobs out her silly pleas and her swimming costume slides wetly down her trembling thighs to her knees.

At last she is let off the hook, and she rubs glumly at her bottom as she and the other two who have had their canings are allowed to get dressed. An enquiring look from the teacher prompts Annabel to slip her costume down off her shoulders, tits popping demurely into view just as the caretaker, an opportunist as ever, pokes his head round the door to ask how long the changing room will be needed, as he has to fix the showers. Annabel blushes scarlet, and then goes even redder in the face as she is made to denude herself entirely, the caretaker’s presence notwithstanding. Why she should find it more embarrassing to be naked in the presence of two men as opposed to one man is not immediately apparent to the teacher, who decides to ignore both the problem and Annabel’s blushes as he shoos the other girls out into the corridor and nods conspiratorially to the caretaker, who sidles in and seems to have no intention now of addressing himself to the supposed malfunctioning of the aforementioned showers.

Annabel is not to know that, the caretaker being a handy man to have around when expensive bits of central heating equipment, amongst other things, are to be filched and fiddled from their rightful owners, he is to be allowed to enjoy the spectacle which she is going to provide, as compensation for his illegal activities on the behalf of others. The teacher is not to know that this is not the first time, nor even the second, that Annabel and her knickers have been parted in the presence of the caretaker. Annabel perches herself across the stool and begins her humiliating exercises, avoiding the eyes of the school’s most accomplished blackmailer and rifler of silk-lined purses, while the teacher decides that Annabel’s positioning atop the stool isn’t quite right, and ‘adjusts’ her hips with that indelicacy of touch familiar to all the girls of the 400-metre relay team. One Tuesday evening is, after all, much like many others in the swimming pool changing room.

Asa’s Note…..I run a club, and in it we have a suggestions page, on it is a section for future shoots, and one idea is girls in swim suits, I am busy making a sort of changing room set….which will do for this situation, and what you will see in the next post in this series. It will double up as a multiple flogging station too!

It will need supports underneath for that of course.

more to come…

Asa