Casey and Katie and the birthday spankings

As a kinky blogger and (sometime) erotic scribbler I am lucky enough to count many creative, charming, and downright lovely people as friends. Two of these radiant flowers – hello, Casey McKay and Katie Meer! – are celebrating birthdays this weekend and, being naughty, spanky girls, they have naturally invited their chums to write spanking fantasies about them.

My piece is below and stars the pair in schoolgirl mode, waiting outside the beautiful and forgiving Miss Hasler’s office, having been summoned for misbehaving in class. Oh, wait. By ‘beautiful and forgiving’ I mean ‘beautiful and strict’. Oh dear...

*****

For such fast friends, the two girls standing in the lime-green school corridor gave a very good impression of being at odds. The occasional kick of a heel against the wall was all that broke the silence, and each girl pointedly avoided the other’s gaze, staring sullenly into space instead.

“Your fault!” Katie pouted, arms folded huffily.

“No, yours!” Casey snapped in retort, turning and jabbing a finger into her friend’s ribs for emphasis. “You’re the one who dared me!”

Katie was an instant away from grabbing a handful of her classmate’s hair and pulling when the dreaded word “Enter!” rang loud and clear through Miss Hasler’s door. The girls certainly looked into each others’ eyes then, fear written all over their young faces.

The pair made just as timid a sight once they were inside the schoolmistress’s office: heads bowed, one girl fiddling nervously with her fingers, the other with her grey pleated skirt.

“So you think it’s funny to write naughty stories in class?” Miss Hasler demanded, her icy tone making it abundantly clear that she found the matter anything but amusing.

“No, Miss,” Casey muttered into her blazer, sheepishly twirling the toe of a shiny black Mary Jane on the carpet.

“No...” the strict teacher sardonically echoed. “And what about you, Katie? Hmm?”

“No, Miss...” Katie whispered, her blushing face scarcely visible beneath her tumbling locks.

Miss Hasler gave a little nod to herself then rose to her feet. She paced slowly around her desk, glaring frostily at the two shame-faced reprobates trembling before her. “It never ceases to amaze me,” she said, once she stood mere inches from the girls, “how readily wayward girls renounce their actions – actions they were quite proud of when undertaking them – as soon as the prospect of punishment arises.”

Casey, wishing to the tips of her toes that she could be anywhere but where she was, knitted her fingers under her implacable teacher’s scolding. Poor Katie, prone to blushing at the best of times, felt her face grow as hot as an oven.

“Naughty, filthy stories... about spanking! I’ve never heard of such wickedness! To think, that you should write such things in my school!”

Katie winced, unable to lift her gaze from the floor, and then suddenly gasped as she was seized by the arm and marched toward her teacher’s huge oak desk. “We’ll soon see how much fun you think spankings are!” Miss Hasler cried, the anger in her voice matching her violent grip. Before poor Katie could gather her senses she found herself bent over the desk, her skirt pinned to her back by a firm hand.

The hapless schoolgirl did not have to wait long for her spanking to begin: her soft cheeks were stung at once by a succession of fulsome smacks, each one near shaking her out of her shoes. What a spectacle she made as she was given her just desserts! Squirming and wailing in distress and discomfort, like the naughtiest girl in the world; pleading futilely for forgiveness as her bottom was slapped ever-fiercer shades of red.

She sobbed as she was stood up and given a final, demeaning, finger-wagging scolding, then sent to the corner, bottom aflame. And then – all too soon for her liking – it was Casey’s turn. Dragged humiliatingly into position just as her friend had been, she yelped from the first smack of her teacher’s hard hand and earned enough slaps to the backs of her thighs for making a fuss to bring hot, painful colour to those infamously sensitive spots. Yet, as red as her thighs may have been, her buttocks easily outdid them by the time Miss Hasler had finished impressing the importance of good behaviour upon her, and they glowed as luridly red against the pure white of her school knickers as a pair of plump strawberries in cream. Casey’s little face was a picture of misery long before she was sent to join her friend in disgrace; as she shuffled across the office bitter tears streaked down her cheeks in vivid testimony of her sorrow.

With a dismissive tut Miss Hasler settled back down to marking exercise books. The two girls facing her bookshelves snivelled and gulped back tears in the time-honoured manner of well-spanked miscreants, hands on their heads, burning bottoms on humiliating display. Both girls desperately regretted their misbehaviour and both inwardly vowed never, ever to write naughty stories in class again...

...at least until the next time.

*****

Happy birthday(s), ladies!