The prelude for a Spanking

A sharp SMACK! penetrated the silence. Her buttock quivered and was still. She jerked herself bolt upright and pulled her elbows back from their resting place on the wall, left knee straigtening and resuming its fair share of her weight. She tried to get her nose back in touch with the wall without him noticing that she had allowed it to loose contact in relaxation. She winced inwardly, sharply aware of the sting that burned into her right cheek, but more because he had caught her out so easily. Why hadn’t she heard him coming? And how could such a large man move so quietly? She knew why he had chosen that buttock to spank, it would have been jutting provocatively due to her relaxed posture. It burned as the pink handprint infused her creamy skin.

Cornertime. She hated this part.

‘Necessary to impart self-discipline and prepare you for what is to come’, he always told her. She detested it. Boring. Wearying. And despite her best intentions, she always managed to make things worse for herself by accidentally failing to observe the ‘cornertime rules’, of which there were many. He was extremely familiar with every last nook and cranny of her naked body, and yet having to stand with her nose against the wall, hands on head with elbows pulled back, skirt tucked up and knickers carefully lowered to mid-thigh, always made her feel ‘more than naked’, somehow. Even more so when she knew he was relaxing in his suit and tie, observing her closely, watching for any slight sign that her attention may be wandering.

She felt his hands at her elbows as he positioned them further back, in line with her shoulders as they should always be. Her tired muscles complained, but she complied. His foot pressed against the inside of her ankles, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back as she placed her feet wider apart. A slight draught as he moved away, the breath of cool air wafting between her parted thighs and the moistness there became super-cooled. Why did something she hated so much make her so wet?

She knew the answer. She felt naughty, truly naughty, just like when she was eight and in trouble with her mum. And her correction followed the very same pattern then as it was about to now. Panties humiliatingly lowered, and held face down across his knee for a long, slow, bare bottomed spanking.

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