LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Spanked for Rudeness
"Caroline Ann Johnson, meet me in the living room at 7 pm precisely my girl, with my hairbrush," Mum said sternly as she left the lounge where I was watching TV.

On hearing those dreaded words, I felt faint. I'm a nineteen year old PE student training to be a teacher but I felt like some little child who learned her bottom would soon be red and throbbing and she would be howling, as I always do when Mum smacks my bottom soundly. My hands immediately went to my bottom and I rubbed even though I had not even been smacked yet. I felt extremely embarrassed that Mum told me to wear my spanking knickers under my white cotton shorty nightie. My spanking knickers are a hideous pair of my old bottle-green school knickers, two sizes too small, with elasticated waist and legs that leave red marks around my legs and tummy. It was impossible to concentrate on the television after that, and I just sat there looking at the clock. As the time whizzed around to 6:50 pm. I got up and headed for my room, feeling slightly sick, and changed into my nightie and clambered into the hideous bottle-green knickers. I left my room and went into Mum's room to pick up the damned hairbrush that would soon be making me howl. I hurried down the stairs and presented myself to Mum as the clock struck 7. I stood by her side and handed her the hairbrush.

She slapped both my legs. "Hands on head girl," she ordered.

She then indicated that I should stand immediately in front of her, which I did with alacrity. She slid both her hands under my nightie and pulled my knickers down to my ankles. Once my spanking knickers were at my ankles she told me to step out of them. Giving a satisfied nod, she folded them and placed them on the table at her side.

She then grasped my wrist and dragged me across her knee and spent some moments ensuring my bottom was in position.

"Keep this naughty bottom up young lady, while I blister it for your disgusting behaviour towards Mrs Addison," Mum said in no uncertain manner. She then began applying her wooden hairbrush to my naked upturned bottom full force. I was howling and pleading within a matter of swats but Mum simply swatted away at the meatiest part of my bottom before working the hairbrush down the backs of my thighs which had me crying, kicking and writhing across her knee like some nine-year old. Mum spent an entire 10 minutes smacking the heavy wooden brush into my bottom, thighs and sit spots with a force that simply broke me, until I lay limp like a doll sobbing uncontrollably.

After Mum let me off her knee, my hands immediately flew to my bottom, as I rubbed away at my swollen, throbbing and burning cheeks. I was allowed to continue my 'fire dance' for a few minutes, before Mum grabbed me by the ear and led me to the corner, smacking the backs of my legs all the way there.