Naughty Spanking One

by Miranda Forbes

  “Hubert has been a very naughty boy! He has been exposing himself to maid Gloria and playing with her pussy. There is a mess on his breeches. We can’t allow such behavior. Mr Smack will pay a painful visit to naughty Mr Bottom!”

  She sat down on the leather armchair, hitched up her skirt to bare her silk-stockinged thighs and motioned to the Earl.

  “Take down your breeches and bend over my knee. Mistress will give you a sound spanking, while you confess your salacious misdeeds.”

  Freja waited while the Earl unbuttoned himself, dropped his breeches and stepped out of them. He was wearing a pair of blue satin knickers trimmed with lace that barely hid the bulge of his prick and balls. I see you are wearing the knickers I gave you when I last spanked you. They were to remind you of your iniquitous behaviour and cure you of the sort of dirty, disgusting, degrading turpitude you displayed today. But they have obviously had no effect. And I see you have soiled them with something quite unmentionably horrid! Dirty boy!”

  She pulled the satin garment down to his knees.

  “A ‘smack bottom’ is too good for you. A good caning is what you need, and if my knickers are not enough to cure you of such filthy thoughts, I fear I must degrade you further by dressing you up beneath your hunting gear with my silk stockings and one of Mme Isadora’s restrictive corsets.”

  Mistress’s words had an immediate and rousing effect upon Hubert’s cock which had been slumbering after its recent exertions. It twitched, jerked and rose to rigid attention before her at the prospect of caning and corset from Mistress.

  She got up, smoothed down her skirt and walked over to the desk. Picking up the rattan lying there by the two floggers, she flexed it.

  “I must obviously prescribe some of your own medicine for your buttocks, my young Hubert Camberley. You come right here to me!” She tap-tap-tapped the desktop imperiously.

  As he hobbled over to the desk, Mistress took maid Gloria’s knickers from her bodice and waved them under his nose.

  “Place these over your head and bend over the desk with your legs apart and present your bottom for punishment! You may smell maid Gloria’s pussy perfume while I cane you. It will be a salutary reminder of your depravity.”

  Hubert positioned himself as his dominatrix instructed; knicker-covered head on the desktop, arms outstretched. Effectively blindfolded by the satin knickers, the Earl’s senses swam with the fragrance of maid Gloria’s cunt. It was a heady perfume.

  Mistress’s shoe kicked at his feet, forcing him to open his legs wider to stretch the knickers around his ankles taut.

  She picked up a flogger.

  Soft suede tails slid sensuously over his buttocks and up the crease of his splayed arse. Leather flicked sharply between his legs, suede tentacles curling around his dangling testicles to attack his throbbing penis, slapping upward at his underbelly.

  There was silence for what seemed like eternity.

  The grandfather clock in the hall outside whirred and began to strike six o’clock.

  “Beg! Hubert! Beg me to chastise you!” Mistress’s command cut through the silence.

  “Please cane me, Mistress! Cane me for my depraved desires!”

  Mistress put down the flogger and picked up the cane again. She took her stance, paused and swung her arm.

  Whack!

  The Earl grunted, his butt twitching from the stinging pleasure of the first cut. It left an angry thin red line that transmitted its nerve-exploding message to his cock which pulsed in spontaneous reflex.

  Warming to her task, the Prussian Dominatrix began to lay a crimson pattern of parallel stripes across the exposed spheres before her.

  Whack! Whack! Whack!

  She paused between each stroke to survey its mark and run her hand over Hubert’s buttocks, caressing the heat of each raised welt as it appeared.

  Whack! Whack! Whack!

  The crack of each impacting cut and the ecstasy of pain each searing imprint brought, together with the heady incense of maid Gloria’s cuntjuices excited the Earl to new heights of euphoric ecstasy.

  Whack!

  Mistress’s final stroke cut viciously across the soft underside of Hubert’s buttocks; the fabled ‘sweet spot’. It was the defining cut that released his floodgates. He tore the knickers from his head and with a groan of delight wanked himself to spurting orgasm into their shiny folds.

  The study door closed silently behind Mistress Freja von Hohenfels as she left Lord Hubert Camberley to his solitary pleasure.

  The School Reunion

  by Kitti Bernetti

  Jeanie’d only been waiting for this moment for twenty years. As she walked up the road to the school, it gave her goosebumps even now. The happiest days of your life. Well, maybe to some but not to Jeanie.

  It’s amazing how some people change, she thought, catching a glimpse of her thirty-year-old self in the window of a shop. Take her for instance. As a ten-year-old, she hadn’t shown much promise either in the way she looked or her intellect. She was one of the average kids as far as brains were concerned. As far as looks went, she was one of the ones the mothers outside the school gates would look at and think, ‘shame’. Jeanie could see the sympathy in their eyes as their pretty, bouncy kids frolicked with the other chosen ones. She’d look at the floor and feel guilty for taking up space. Childhood hadn’t been her finest hour.

  But the gods had made up for it since. Once she got to thirteen, her hormones kicked in producing breasts that had developed faster than the blush on a schoolboy’s cheek. Firm as a tightly blown up balloon, with nipples that stood out like thimbles, they’d been obscene, even under her thick school jumper. As if to make up for the misery of her early years, nature bestowed its kindest charms on the teenage Jeanie. Lustrous thick blonde hair so long it grazed her waist, legs the length of telegraph poles and an arse so mobile men were mesmerized by it. But the older Jeanie was even better, for she had added a touch of class.

  She looked good tonight and she knew it. Jeanie had chosen her outfit well, because she knew he was going to be there and, whatever happened, she had to have him. She smiled at the reflection of her arse bobbing along. What man could resist that? Not many. Her white skirt was made of that clingy jersey that kisses every curve of a well-built woman. Close observation revealed the tiny thong hugging her hips. The plain black top she wore above it pretended to be prim but, all the while, the ardent observer could peer at it and see the roundness of an overfull cleavage poking through. One button left open at the top, and two at the bottom to reveal a tanned flat stomach, should hook her prey. It was going to be one special night. She felt her breasts tingle just at the thought of it.

  As she entered the crowded hall there was that unmistakable whiff of cabbagey school dinners combined with sweat and the rubber of plimsolls. She wrinkled her pert little nose with distaste. Instantly one of the male staff members approached her. He was young, good-looking. Under different circumstances, she would have sparked with approval. But not tonight.

  ‘Hi, what was your year?’ he schmoozed.

  ‘That would be telling. Just as a lady doesn’t tell her age, she doesn’t tell which years she was at school. It would be too easy to work out the vital statistics.’

  ‘Especially for me. Let me introduce myself. Lee Sheffield, I teach maths here.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ she smirked.

  ‘Can I show you around? Or get you a drink, maybe?’ His attention was flattering. It was a shame to waste him but she had bigger fish to fry. She trawled around instead looking for the object of her desire. He wasn’t in this mob. ‘Is the reunion taking place just in this hall or is it spread around the school?’

  ‘Next door as well, in the science wing.’ Of course. That was where he’d be.

  ‘Thanks, I know where that is.’ As she made to move off, he cornered her. ‘I’d really like to reminisce with you about old times.’ Wow that was a crap chat-up line but, hey, these weren’t normal circumstances and that tousled hair and t
hose faded jeans straining with muscles were pretty cute. ‘ Maybe I could have your phone number?’

  She hesitated. Jeanie hadn’t got to senior sales exec and a six figure salary without being focussed and there was no one and nothing which was going to put her off her goal for tonight. Nevertheless, part of her success also sprung from being open to suggestions. She dug in her Louis Vuitton handbag and fished out a business card. She gave it to him, winked and slinked off, feeling his eyes burn into her jiggling rump as she walked.

  As she entered the science block she spotted her target instantly. She’d know that angular stooped figure and that sharp nose anywhere. Okay, so he was twenty years older but basically it was the same model, just skinnier, and with now grey instead of brown hair. Beside him, unmistakably, stood his wife. A dessicated little rodent of a woman, Jeanie almost laughed out loud. Picking him up would be like taking candy from a baby if that dried-up female was the only item of womanhood he’d had to screw for the last two decades.

  She wandered into his field of vision and could see she’d instantly caught his eye. He always was a letch. All the kids knew it. The way he used to hang around outside the gym pretending he was stopping the boys peering in at the girls undressing, when all the while he was guiltier than they were. It made the hair on Jeanie’s neck stand on end.

  Completely ignoring his wife, who was instantly engaged in small talk by one of the other old girls, Mr Sloane sidled up to Jeanie. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jeanie twirled a skein of hair provocatively in her fingers and gave him her most heavy-lidded look. ‘Why, you’re Mr Sloane, the physics teacher, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t quite place you though. What year was it?’

  Oh no. She wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. Besides, he might start to remember and get frightened away. ‘Mr Sloane, wow. You’re still looking so good.’

  ‘I am?’ The old letch was as flattered as a parading peacock. He straightened himself and ran a finger through his thinning hair.

  ‘Absolutely. I’m sure old pupils come up and tell you this all the time, but, guess what, I had such a crush on you.’

  ‘That’s interesting.’ He wiped a little bit of spittle from the side of his mouth. She could see the old bastard falling – hook, line and sinker.

  She wrinkled her nose and toyed with the top button of her blouse. Like a dog sniffing at a bitch, his eyes lit up. ‘And do you know, it hasn’t weakened at all with the years. In fact, if anything I’d say it was stronger.’

  He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. ‘Really. A fine young woman like you looking at an old has-been like me.’ He took her arm, all over her like a rash, and directed her towards the dark passageway which ran alongside the science block. ‘Would you like to see some of our new classrooms?’

  ‘Actually,’ she giggled girlishly, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick. ‘I’d really like to visit the old lecture theatre, the one right at the top of the building where you used to do most of your lessons. I remember watching you. We could sort of re-enact how it used to be. With you on the stage, and me sitting in the audience looking up at you, wide-eyed with admiration.’

  ‘That would be fun, my dear,’ he leered. ‘Let’s do it.’

  In the lift, she deliberately stood close to him, her shoulder almost touching his arm. He looked hot, slightly sweaty, as if he couldn’t believe his luck. She had to get him ready and this confined little space was ideal for the purpose. She breathed out, her full breasts like ledges. ‘Is it me, or is it really warm in here?’

  His eyes strayed down, and his tongue came out of his mouth and licked his lips. ‘Yes, my dear, I think it is.’ Mr Sloane’s eyes bulged like a goldfish’s as she undid a button on her blouse exposing the black lace of her bra and the very tops of her nipples.

  Jeanie looked up at him and smiled. ‘I often dreamed you and I might get stuck in this lift.’

  It was all he needed to make the first move. Tentatively she felt his hand slide over the rounded globes of her taut arse. ‘We might get stuck in it today,’ his voice was thick with desire.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said moving her legs open slightly, knowing that he wouldn’t let it pass his notice. His breathing was becoming grainy now, ragged with lust.

  ‘You have the most delectable bottom I have ever seen on a young woman.’

  She stuck it out and wiggled slightly. ‘I’m glad you like it. Get down on your knees and you can have a sniff.’

  ‘Yes, there’s nothing I’d like more,’ he grunted, kneeling down on the floor. First he fondled both cheeks in his bony hands. Clumsily he then grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled it up, revealing the eye-filling sight of Jeanie’s behind in her tiny purple thong. Her arse thrust in Mr Sloane’s bristly face, and her purple suspender belt strained to hold up the flesh coloured stockings on her long shapely legs. She hoped he liked stockings because very soon, although he didn’t know it, he was going to find himself tied up securely with them. He dipped his face in, roughly pulled her bum cheeks apart and sniffed, snorting like a pig.

  When she felt he’d had enough to drive him insane, Jeanie pulled her skirt down and said, ‘I think this is our floor. Let’s go into the lecture theatre and we can have some real fun.’

  He scrambled after her as she entered the double doors that led to the huge hollow room. ‘This is the spotlight, isn’t it?’ she said, flicking on the switch and bathing the stage in light.

  ‘You remember things well.’

  ‘Oh yes, I remember every minute of one particular day we were in here.’

  ‘Come with me onto the stage,’ he said, ‘that way I can see you better and give you what you really want.’

  She winked at him, as if he was the most desirable male in the whole human race. In her large handbag, the bamboo cane she had carefully selected for the job bumped against her leg, sharp and hard. The room was silent, you could have heard a pin drop.

  Jeanie placed her handbag on the table where she could grab it easily and stood behind it, just out of Mr Sloane’s reach. She tossed her blonde locks and plumped her lips, thick with shiny gloss. ‘I’ll bet you like to play games, don’t you, Mr Sloane?’

  ‘I don’t get much chance to play nowadays. My wife is a tad cold. In fact she’s as icy as Antarctica.’

  ‘Poor you,’ pouted Jeanie.

  He started to edge around the table and Jeanie darted away. ‘I’d like to play very much,’ he grinned, his beady eyes alight with desire.

  ‘OK then. We start with you watching.’ With that, she lifted her skirt so he could see her stocking tops and her muff, and placed her hand over the front, rubbing it suggestively. He was getting satisfyingly hard, she could see, as he pressed himself against the other end of the table, the slimy toad. His tented trousers displayed a tiny wet bubble. He was nearly ready.

  Slowly and deliberately, Jeanie undid her suspenders and rolled the long stockings down those endless legs. Mr Sloane’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Come here,’ she breathed.

  ‘Anything for you my dear. Anything to please you.’

  She waved the stockings at him as he came nearer then said, ‘Give me your wrists, you’re going to be my slave.’

  ‘Oh God,’ he crooned, ‘make me serve you.’

  ‘Take your trousers off,’ she ordered.

  ‘Yes, yes.’ He fumbled with the button and the zip, pulling them hastily down. ‘Now your pants, and your shirt.’

  His eyes goggled at her with the sheer joy of thinking she wanted to see his spidery body. As if. He was even more repulsive naked than dressed.

  The arrogant bastard obviously thought he was God’s gift standing there with a hard-on which jutted out like a pistol.

  She smiled, backing away as he tried to touch her. ‘No, no, just you wait, your reward will come in a while’, and slid the still warm stocking over his wrists, tied them tightly, knotted them and led him to the hard metal bracket anchored
into the wall on which the whiteboard was secured. It was perfect. He wouldn’t get away from that, no matter how much she thrashed him.

  Now was the time to get him really worked up. Bit by bit, she undid her buttons, watching his staring eyes drinking her in. In a second she was standing in her bra which barely held her ample breasts. He stood trembling before her. ‘Take off your skirt,’ he croaked.

  She almost laughed out loud, who did he think was giving the orders here? Humour him, just for one minute more, she thought. In a moment, she was standing there in just her thong and high heels. His hands tied mercilessly behind his back, he strained forward to where she stood just out of reach.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, ‘let me lick you.’

  She picked up her handbag and walked over to him. He kneeled down, his face in line with her beautiful scented muff and stuck out his tongue.

  ‘Not so soon,’ she snarled backing away. A look of fright sparked in his eyes as he peered up at her from his kneeling position. His ramrod erection stayed taut with excitement.

  ‘You don’t remember who I am, do you?’ She paced around him.

  ‘So many girls pass through here, I couldn’t remember them all could I?’

  She brought her muff closer to his face and put down the bag with the cane nestling in it. The thought that she and only she knew it was there filled her with a feeling of power. Complete, total, utter power.

  ‘I’ll bet you remember the name Jeanie Powell, don’t you?’

  Mr Sloane frowned, wrinkles scarring his forehead. He moved uneasily on his knees, obviously in some discomfort. Good. ‘Jeanie Powell. That does ring a … you, you’re Jeanie Powell?’ The look of uncertainty turned to one of terror.

  ‘It’s coming back now, isn’t it? That day, when you told me off for losing my homework. You said you wanted to make an example of me. Remember it?’

  ‘I … yes, but you were a naughty girl, you were …’

  ‘Shut up.’ Jeanie’s magnificent breasts heaved with indignation, her nipples rock hard with excitement. ‘I’m not interested in hearing you justify yourself, Mister Sloane. I take it you remember how you told me off in front of every single person in class. How you decided to make me squirm. Remember, remember what you did?’ She paced in front of him.