The perils of being a Fifth Former

I've added another new site to my links: Mr Whacker is the blog of "a fictitious pedagogist with an unhealthy interest in spanking and crisp school uniforms" – sounds like just my sort of gentleman! There are all sorts of lovely stories and pictures there so I heartily recommend a visit.

A recent post by the aforementioned Mr W. details a punishment earned and received by his naughty wife. The young Mrs Whacker, it appears, is one of those recidivous young ladies whose behaviour requires her husband/teacher to put her into school uniform and administer firm correction. On this occasion she had been especially naughty, so she was given that most feared of all school punishments: six with the cane on the bare.

I mention this because, as you are no doubt aware, I am another of those permanent schoolgirls. And I'm sorry to report that I have also recently (just yesterday in fact) been put into my uniform and given a thoroughly deserved thrashing. It's almost as if my own teacher knew I had read about poor Elaine and decided to give me the same treatment!

I instantly knew I was in for it when I was told quite out of the blue to go upstairs, change into my uniform and wait for him. How I hate that ritual – removing my adult clothes and stepping into those of a child! Yet, awful as that part is, even worse is the silent, interminable wait that follows, fearfully contemplating the discomfort and humiliation to come, knowing full well that it is too late to undo your misbehaviour...

When my teacher eventually entered, he sat on our hard-backed 'spanking' chair and brusquely commanded me to climb across his knee. I hesitated, mumbling that I didn't want a spanking, and received several hard smacks to my seat as I stood. "Naughty girls seldom want a spanking, but they always need one." Feeling even more humiliated than before, I lowered myself into position. My skirt was flipped up with a practiced ease and, once he had smoothed his hand over my cheeks for a moment or two, my teacher commenced a very hard hand spanking. I don't know if it was because I hadn't been spanked for a while, but each and every smack really stung. Of course, my impudent pleading – "Ohh, Sir! Not so hard!" – was rewarded with a sharp rebuke and, if anything, an increase in severity.

My teacher has a variety of spanking implements, one of which is a wooden kitchen spatula. While this simple tool may look (and perhaps even sound) innocuous, believe me when I say it is very painful when applied to a girl's bare buttocks. As I squirmed and bucked over my teacher's knee, my bottom rippling under his rapid, hard smacks, that dreaded utensil stared impassively up at me from the floor beneath my bobbing head. I made a silent little wish that it wouldn't be used on me.

After five minutes or so I was told to stand up. When I had clambered to my feet I instinctively reached back and rubbed my bottom, which was of course a mistake. I was ordered to put my hands on my head and given a few more terse swats for my impertinence.

"You really are being naughty today!" my teacher scolded. Then he reached up under my skirt, took hold of my knickers and pulled them down to my knees. "It's a spanking on the bare for you, my girl. Now get back over my knee."

Back in position (with no hesitation this time), I looked once more at the spatula on the floor and thought for a moment that my teacher had forgotten about it. How my heart sank when I was told to pick it up and pass it back to him. Ignoring my fearful little whimpers, my teacher peremptorily tossed my skirt up once again and then applied the spatula with blistering force to my backside. He really let me have it! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

I couldn't help yelping, kicking and pleading – it hurt so much! Of course that only landed me in further trouble. "DO keep still, girl! You deserve every one of these!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The spanking went on in the same agonising manner for a good, long while; I'm not sure exactly how long. I do know that by the time it ended, tears wet my face and I was a very sorry young lady with a very sore, very red bottom. Sitting is still a little uncomfortable as I write this today, in fact.

But the spanking had the desired effect, if tearful promises to behave are anything to go by. Of course, it remains to be seen how well I keep to them!

Steamy self-promotion

Now, to the matter I was originally planning to post on, before I was so rudely interrupted...

I’m not sure whether it was an idea brought on by a feverish night’s sleep, or an unconscious after-effect of reading some of Spanky’s funny posts, but waking one morn I thought it would be fun to do a silly parody; a plug for a made-up erotic book. I’m sure such a thing will have been done before, but hey.

Let’s see. First we need a title. This should of course follow the erotic book/movie naming convention of adjective-noun, with both ideally leaning towards the suggestive end of the vocab scale. You know, things like Forbidden Hunger, or Secret Passion.

I’ve got it. Steamy Obsessions. Ooh!

Now we need a cover. It’s got to have some female flesh on it... and a certain hint of suburban eroticism... what better than a stock photo of a woman taking a shower? Like this one:

Add the cover text, and hey presto:

Steamy!

Now I just need to write some blurb. Let’s start with the character names. There are three principal figures in the story, the first being the horny, sexy female protagonist and the second being her horny, sexy male paramour. She can be Amarynth Foster and he can be Kent Ambridge. Nice realistic-sounding names. And the third point in our little love triangle can be the sultry Raquel Conchitez.

Okay. Now for the hard sell!

Raquel is a young woman with needs. What she needs is the brooding, muscular Kent, but he’s already taken – by her best friend! What sensual lures will the Latino temptress employ to get what she wants? Will red-blooded (and well-hung) Kent be able to resist her wiles (and her perfect body)? What will happen when two overly-sexed women clash over one man? Might it involve them getting naked in the shower together and having some lesbian fun? Is Amarynth’s shower big enough for all three lovers to get in? Read the sex-packed Steamy Obsessions and find out... (Several further posts on the subject to follow).

Eew. I feel like I could use a shower myself now.

Back from the wilderness

Hello and sorry for the break – the first several days were due to a combination of work and another horrid cold, but the last few have been thanks to an extremely nasty virus messing my computer up. I've finally got it back to normal now, but it was a real battle.

So to the anonymous geek who wrote that pointless piece of malware:

GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!

(After all, nobody else will).

Ah! That’s better :-)

To all my naughty girls...

I wrote a few days ago with a warning to all my naughty male readers that if I ever caught them misbehaving I would make them very sorry indeed.

Of course, it would be remiss of me not to extend the same courtesy to any of my female readers who are similarly badly-behaved. So if you are one of those girls who enjoys illicit peeks at forbidden material, read on.

*****

I know that despite your fascination with punishment and submission you are in reality an independently-minded woman, and I know that, were you to actually receive treatment such as that depicted above, you would be affronted, humiliated and terribly resistant.

You should know then that your treatment at my hands would be unremittingly severe and humiliating; entirely appropriate for a wanton little slut like you.

My first objective would of course be to beat that troublesome and foolish resistance out of you. To that end I would bare your bottom, bend you over and give you a good thrashing with the crop. And I most certainly mean a good thrashing. By the time I had delivered the last stroke your willfulness will have melted into sorrowful, sobbing pleas and your soft, fleshy rear would be streaked an agonised, flaming red.

But I know that girls like you take a perverse delight in pain, and a thrashing such as the one you had just received would leave you shamefully aroused and desperate for release. I would therefore take great pleasure in running my crop between your legs and teasing your swollen sex with its pitiless caress, all the while admonishing you for your depravity.

When I had tired of that game I would command you to stand and strip in front of me. Do it slowly: remove the symbols of your past life, one by one, and embrace your new status as my pet. How pretty you look, naked and powerless! Your collar would then be put round your delicate neck as you knelt at my feet.

And then you would go across my knee for your first spanking as my possession. A long, hard, pitiless spanking, your already-sore bottom endlessly rippling under my gloved hand. And when I slipped my hand once more between your legs to check for arousal, and that hand emerged slick with your juices, you would get your just reward: a fucking with my largest dildo. And, just like the filthy harlot pictured above, you would moan with shameless delight.

Such obscene behaviour would of course earn you another spanking, which would be administered as soon as I had fucked you to my satisfaction.

And then it would be into the corner with you. There you would remain for an hour or two, reflecting upon your new position in life and your wretched unworthiness, until it was time for you to crawl to my feet and worship my boots.

If you were an especially good little slut, I would treat your ass to another taste of the crop whilst you grovelled. And I would introduce the crop to other parts of your sinful body, too: your legs, your back, your breasts and even your wicked little pussy would all be thrashed. And I would remind you, constantly and forcefully, that you had brought it all upon yourself.

The fantastic photo above is from KenMarcus.com.

Watch this space

I've just learnt that, contrary to what I previously thought, I can have separate pages for things like a reading list or an About Me page etc. Ooh! Isn't Blogger clever?

I will have to have a think about what pages to add, starting (I imagine) with a more comprehensive reading list.

Glee!

Update, 15/1/2012: As you can see, I've started by adding a contact page and an 'about me' page. Aren't the little pink buttons cute? :-)

To all my naughty boys...

Okay, enough theorising about kinky roleplay; time for a little practice. Now, I may be a naughty little girl but I have a decidedly dominant side that I like to express every so often. And I think it's about time I gave some attention to those male readers of mine who, whether they admit it or not, badly need correction from a firm female hand.

You know exactly who you are, so it's no use denying it. You visit my site (and goodness knows what other sites) to get a naughty little thrill, don't you? Reading about spanking turns you on, doesn't it? And as for looking at all those filthy images, well!

I can picture you now, playing with your little cock, a disgusting stream of images parading across your computer monitor. Women dressed as schoolgirls... women in their underwear... women entirely naked! Well, my boy, you had better believe that if I ever come into your room and catch you looking at such material or, even worse, masturbating over it I will make you very, very sorry indeed. I imagine in fact that it will go something like this...

*****

"And WHAT is the meaning of this, young man?" I demand, twisting your ear and pointing an accusing finger at the screen. "How DARE you look at such things!"

In a flash you are lifted from your seat by the ear. You blush in embarrassment as I glare down disapprovingly at your little erect cock. "And what is this? As if looking at pornography wasn't bad enough, you get hard without express female permission! Well, I know just what to do with wicked little boys like you!"

I sit in your seat with an authoritative elegance, my short pleated skirt riding up and revealing a few more inches of my thighs. But you have precious little time to ogle them as the very next moment I pull you down across my knee and immediately set to work warming your naughty bare bottom with my hard hand.

"So you think it's fun to look at pictures of schoolgirls being spanked, do you?" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "We'll see just how much fun it is when it's you on the receiving end!"

"Ouch! Ow! I'm s-sorry, Miss Hasler!"

"I beg your pardon? You're sorry? Not nearly sorry enough, my boy!"

And I smack your plump, deserving cheeks with all my might until they glow, ignoring your forlorn pleas and holding you firmly in place.

Of course, after a good quarter of an hour or so of spanking I will slip my hand between your legs to check your cock for hardness. And believe me, if I should happen to find so much as a trace of it, I will teach you a lesson you won't soon forget courtesy of a hundred with my wooden hairbrush.

"Still rock hard, I see! You really are the naughtiest little boy there ever was! It's the hairbrush for you, my lad, and I don't want to hear any of your whining!" WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

After thirty blistering swats, tears flow freely down your pained face. But the displeased female roasting your seat couldn't care less, and that awful hairbrush just keeps stinging you. "You can cry all you like, young man! You deserve a jolly good hiding, and that's just what you're going to get!"

The hundred swats soon become a hundred and fifty, thanks to your insolence, and by the time I let you up from my lap your bruised bottom feels like it's on fire. Oh, how you regret your misbehaviour now!

But of course you'll have plenty of time for regret as you stand whimpering in the corner, your hands on your head, your trousers and underpants crumpled pathetically round your feet and your well-spanked bottom glowing a deep, painful red. And don't think you won't get another beating should you be foolish enough to turn your head and peek at me as I look through your disgusting collection of pictures, my hand slipped underneath my skirt.

The lovely photo above comes from Strict Women, a great domestic femdom site.

Kinky thinks

Just in case you haven't spotted it, I’ve added a link to a lovely spanking blog called Bright Bottom. Its owner, Spanky, has very thought-provoking (and hot) things to say about all things BDSM, so consider it recommended!

An article of Spanky's got me thinking about my own kink today, actually. Well, thinking about it a little more than usual, anyway...

Personally, I find that I need a bit of overt roleplay in my kinky sex. It doesn’t have to be a lot – an outfit maybe, or a phrase or two, or a certain atmosphere – just some small signal that my lover and I have temporarily left our everyday lives and entered a debauched world of fantasy, free of the usual constraints and worries. (And full of quite different sorts of constraints and worries!) Of course, all kinky sex is a type of roleplay, even if the participants don’t dress up in leather and do naughty things in a dungeon (or, in other words, even if it takes place in the context of the everyday). I guess I'm just saying it works best for me when that little overt signal is given.

As I’m sure many of you can appreciate, indulging in any kind of sexual roleplay is a strange sensation; a kind of temporary double existence. To use my better half and I as an example, during our play I really am that naughty maid and he really is my master, and I know that my master can do whatever he likes with me. Yet at the same time we are still very much ourselves, and I know that he would never do anything to hurt me. It’s as if the sensible, grown-up me takes a back seat for a while and watches as the wild, lustful me comes to the surface and has some fun.

It’s a form of escapism, of course, but then so is sex itself: the expression la petite mort (‘the little death’) aptly describes the almost out-of-body feeling of transcendence that comes with orgasm. My kink, and no doubt many other people's, is largely driven by a longing for that exact same liberating feeling. Playing dress-up, going over my partner’s knee, being tied to the bed, becoming a helpless and available slut – in other words, creating a private world of sexual fantasy – is simply an attempt to harness that feeling, to extend it, to let it spill outward beyond the moment of orgasmic pleasure.

And what could be more natural than the pursuit of pleasure?

Come along Penny, playtime's over

Aww. I’ve just taken my Christmas blog banner down and reinstated the regular one. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice and all, but it’s just not the same...

It’s always a bit sad taking your decorations down, isn’t it? It’s like a final admission that the festivities are over for another year, and it’s back to work. The weather here in England isn’t helping the transition much, I must say – it’s relentlessly cloudy, grey, cold and wet.

*pout*

For naughty little girls, of course, it’s back to school (whether we want to go or not). My party dresses have all been put away and my dull pinafore is crisply ironed, ready to put back on; instead of fun and games I can look forward to lessons like this, the dunce’s cap in the corner (see the horrid picture above, *sulk*), and a thoroughly smacked bottom if I don’t behave...

...so I guess it’s not all bad! x

The dunce cap photo, incidentally, comes from this interesting page, which documents a visit to a period school in Poolesville, Maryland. Looks great, doesn’t it?

My bottom smarts too...

The lovely Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts has very kindly added a link to my humble blog on her own, so I would like to extend a warm welcome to any new readers and invite you to make yourselves at home, browse my scribblings, and be as naughty as you please in the comments! (If it helps, imagine your hostess dressed as a French maid, curtseying deeply...)

(What a wicked little tease... showing off her stockings and knickers like that... and the little hussy even has the audacity to peek back over her shoulder to see your reaction. She needs a good talking-to, and a lot more besides!)

Anyway, as a little welcoming gift – and to prove that I'm not all about school roleplay – here's an extract from a story I'm working on at the moment. I hope it titillates x

*****

Sabine is my slave. She’s a pretty little thing, a lovely pet; delightfully feminine and very submissive. But not, I’m sorry to say, always obedient. Barely a day goes by, in fact, when I don’t have to punish her for some instance of misbehaviour. “Oh, but Mistress! I’m sorry!” she invariably cries as she is put into position for a thrashing. I was treated to exactly that performance this very morning, as I put her across my knee for a good spanking. Of course, I simply answered her mewling with “It’s too late for sorry, my girl!”, moments before yanking her knickers down and roasting her naughty bottom with my favourite hairbrush.

My pet is of course collared; I like to walk her round my house and grounds on the end of a leash. I find that this greatly reinforces her sense of submission and helps tame any wilfulness that may be building up within her.

And I like to fuck her. I have a number of strap-ons, all of which my slave has worshipped with her tongue and all of which she has felt inside her.

I always fuck Sabine in the ass. She wails and cries every time but I know she loves it really, the filthy little bitch. She really is the most perverted slut. So perverted that sometimes I think she misbehaves and makes a fuss just so she can be punished.

She was certainly disobedient when I fucked her the night before last. It had perhaps been a mistake to put her into a pretty floral dress that morning; such an adult outfit is always likely to give her ideas above her station. Whatever the reason, she showed the most outrageous hesitation at my command to bare her bottom for my attentions. I had no choice but to take the crop to her: such wilfulness cannot go unpunished, and a sound thrashing always proves an excellent corrective. The little madam’s attitude certainly improved when I put her over the punishment stool and gave her a brisk fifty to her seat with the crop.

After she had done crying and begging for forgiveness I gave her permission to worship my feet. Sabine loves few things more than grovelling at my feet, kissing and caressing my long leather boots. She has spent many evenings doing just that, naked and tethered, whilst I recline in my favourite armchair in front of the fire. I never tire of hearing her little moans of pleasure as she strokes, kisses and licks, nor the little gasp she makes when I tug on her leash to bring her up to my knee. For, on occasions when she has been an especially good little slave, I let her worship me between my legs.

I allowed Sabine to kiss my boots, whilst I ran the tip of the crop over her sore bottom, for perhaps a quarter of an hour. Then that pretty dress came up and those tight little knickers came down and my little plaything assumed her proper position, head down, bottom up, ready for my cock.

New term, same naughty Penelope

I should have made a resolution to be less naughty...

I'm sitting a little uncomfortably today because I was given a jolly good thrashing yesterday evening. Having been ordered to dress in my school uniform (grey pleated skirt, white blouse, stripy tie, maroon blazer, knee-length grey socks, black Mary Janes) I was given a very good OTK spanking (a long, hard hand spanking over my skirt, then my knickers, followed by a good hiding with the hairbrush on my bare bottom, ouch!)

My better half teacher had said that I was overdue a smacked bottom, and he was certainly more severe and businesslike than usual in giving me one. There was no pre-spanking scolding; I was put straight across his knee. I was certainly scolded as my seat was warmed, though, being told in no uncertain terms what a naughty little girl I was. I squirmed and kicked and yelped and complained, but he wasn't having any of my nonsense. "Do be quiet, girl!" he snapped. "This is for your own good!"

When I was warned during the hairbrush spanking that I could expect more severe discipline in school this coming term, I petulantly wailed "But I'm too big for school!"

Pausing to smooth the hairbrush over my burning buns for a moment, he retorted with a stern "Judging from your behaviour, young lady, you're anything but too big for school! No, I think you'll be there for quite some time to come." He then applied the awful implement to my wriggling rear in a fresh and blistering salvo. Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Oh, how wonderfully helpless I felt! Enrolled in a school I can never leave; a school where I am given all the painful discipline I deserve! I howled up a storm with the stinging, humiliating deliciousness of it all.

When the hairbrush spanking was finally over, I was made to kneel at my teacher's feet and pleasure him. Ohhh! Is there anything hotter than pleasuring a dominant lover, kneeling, chastised, your wicked little bottom burning red hot, feeling like a wretched little slut? If there is, it'll have to be pretty fucking hot.

Once I had pleasured my teacher to his satisfaction, I was given the cane. Bent over and made to hold my ankles, just like the girl pictured above, I received twenty-five fulsome swipes on the bare, each of which stung frightfully. I was originally to receive twelve, but me being me, I talked myself into more trouble. (Heaven. I love school roleplay, and the cane is just the most wonderful, erotic element; combined with the donning of school uniform, it really transports me to a lovely, strict, make-believe place where I feel free and naughty and controlled and loved, all at once).

There was no corner time after the caning; I was simply thrown onto the bed and fucked very hard. And I came very hard.

Bliss! I hope 2012 carries on just like this! xxx