You Can’t Spank Me

This was supposed to be a tiny little couple hundred word mini-post thing, but it got out of control. Even the posts around here don’t behave themselves. Something ought to be done about that.

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“You can’t spank me,” she says, her eyes flashing warning.

He is not listening. He is removing the cuff-links from his shirt sleeves, methodically placing one then the other on the coffee table. He has said that she is to be spanked. He has said it as if it is the most natural and necessary thing in the world.

“Don’t you dare.” She backs towards an exit, just in case the unthinkable happens and he does actually dare.

He looks at her mildly, his intention plain as he begins rolling his shirt sleeves up over his forearms, which now seem to her to be ridiculously overdeveloped. What has he been doing that the mucles flex visibly with even the smallest movement?

A curl of his salt and pepper has fallen into his eyes, he pushes it back then beckons to her. One finger crooked. Here. Now.

She shakes her head. “No!” Her voice cracks with outrage. “No we are not doing this!”

“Come here, young lady.” His voice is steady and low.

“No,” she insists. “No. No. No. No. No.” She shakes her head, lashing her pony tail from side to side.
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I Spank You

You’ve been naughty and you know it.

I warned you over and over again. I’m not the person you want to push. I’m not the one you want to brat. But you didn’t believe me and now here we are, you’re stammering apologies as usual and I’m coming to a decision that I should have come to a long time ago.

I hold you on my lap and let you squirm. I can feel the moisture seeping through your panties. You’re wet. You’re wet because you’re a naughty little brat with a pussy that needs to be taught a lesson like the rest of you. I take hold of the front of your panties and tug them up, making them sit snugly over your clit and lips. The additional pressure is pleasant and you wriggle all the more for it.

“Are you going to spank me?” You ask the question playfully, coquettishly. You’re not taking this seriously, not yet. The tingle in your little clit is distracting you from what’s really happening here.
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Spanked By A Ghost

Most of the time we regard ghosts as terrifying entities who have for reasons best known to themselves, dedicated their great eternal afterlives to appearing as smudges in badly taken photographs, going bump in the night, leaving vague hissing messages in the background of 80’s tape recordings and communing with twats who believe that hats dampen their psychic energy.

Most of us fear ghosts of course, on account of the fact that they’re scary. It’s a circular sort of reasoning actually, ghosts are scary on account of the fact that they’re ghosts and ghosts are scary.

But what if ghosts could spank?

Mr Dave of Cherry Red Report has courageously tackled this issue in poster form, and I once wrote a story along these lines called The Unspankable Brat, also featured on the Cherry Red Report.