pink dye and making me yelp and jump. I’d have tripped, gone down in the leaves and mud. They’d have been on me, laughing at me, spreading me out in the dirt, Stacey squatting over my face, pushing down her combat trousers and the panties beneath to bare her full pale moon as the others cheered her on to make me lick her bottom.
I rolled over. My legs came wide, hung out to either side of the bath, spreading my cunt to my urgent fingers. All it needed was a few touches and I’d be there, and as I started to rub I was imagining my humiliation as Stacey spread her bottom cheeks in my face and demanded that I kiss her anus. I stuck one finger up my bottom, just to be dirty with myself, my back arched as my rubbing grew harder. I opened my eyes to help imagine my own horror, only to find myself staring not at Stacey’s round pink bottom, but at Mrs Forbes’ round pink face.
She was watching me through the window, her eyes wide and her mouth open in utter disgust at my behaviour. Then she was gone, no doubt to come round and give me a piece of her mind for playing with myself in her bath. I started to panic, splashing my hands in the water as a great wave of embarrassment welled up inside me and I was babbling stupidly as the door slammed and I heard her footsteps approaching.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Forbes, really sorry! I – I just … oh, God!’
The door pushed back and she was glaring down at me. I couldn’t meet her eyes and hung my head. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I should hope you are. Imagine doing that to yourself, you filthy little baggage!’ Her face was set hard, and for one awful moment I really thought she was going to throw me out in the nude, but she carried on, far from sympathetic but very practical. ‘Right, we’d better get you sorted out then, hadn’t we? Get out of the bath.’
I obeyed, too numb to do anything else. As I rose from the water, she handed me a towel, which I wrapped around myself, to stand shame-faced by the door as she bent to inspect the washing machine, muttering all the while. ‘It’ll be a while yet. What’s to be done with you then? I’ll tell you what ought to be done with you, young lady. I ought to put you straight across my knee for a good old-fashioned, bare-bottom spanking.’
She left the room and I was left gaping after her. I couldn’t speak, my face and chest were crimson with blushes and I was shaking so badly I could barely hold my towel. There is nothing, but nothing, as humiliating as being spanked bare bottom across the knee. Plenty of punishments hurt more, and plenty are dirtier, but for pure erotic shame there is nothing to compare with lying across somebody’s lap with your panties pulled well down as your bottom is smacked. Twice Juliette Fisher had spanked me across the knee, although she preferred to use implements. Both times it had left me in a puddle on the floor, but both times had been purely for fun. This was real.
I stood there like an idiot, burning with embarrassment and arousal, deeply ashamed of myself for what she’d seen and what I wanted, but desperately in need of exactly that. She had no idea what she’d done to me, and was plainly embarrassed herself, but she was cross too, really cross. I wondered if I dared ask for it, if I could somehow phrase my appeal in such a way that she didn’t realise I was going to get off on my punishment, but I was sure she’d see through me immediately. Then she really would kick me out in the nude.
She’d begun to make tea, of all things, and with the kettle on she went to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Her knees were stuck out, just as if she was about to take a naughty girl across her lap, and I was mesmerised. All I had to do was bend down across her legs and I’d be in spanking position. She’d tell me to get up, not to be so silly, but she was the one who’d said I needed a spanking.
‘Just do it, Lucinda.’
I’d spoken in a breathless whisper, but she heard, turning me a
I rolled over. My legs came wide, hung out to either side of the bath, spreading my cunt to my urgent fingers. All it needed was a few touches and I’d be there, and as I started to rub I was imagining my humiliation as Stacey spread her bottom cheeks in my face and demanded that I kiss her anus. I stuck one finger up my bottom, just to be dirty with myself, my back arched as my rubbing grew harder. I opened my eyes to help imagine my own horror, only to find myself staring not at Stacey’s round pink bottom, but at Mrs Forbes’ round pink face.
She was watching me through the window, her eyes wide and her mouth open in utter disgust at my behaviour. Then she was gone, no doubt to come round and give me a piece of her mind for playing with myself in her bath. I started to panic, splashing my hands in the water as a great wave of embarrassment welled up inside me and I was babbling stupidly as the door slammed and I heard her footsteps approaching.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Forbes, really sorry! I – I just … oh, God!’
The door pushed back and she was glaring down at me. I couldn’t meet her eyes and hung my head. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I should hope you are. Imagine doing that to yourself, you filthy little baggage!’ Her face was set hard, and for one awful moment I really thought she was going to throw me out in the nude, but she carried on, far from sympathetic but very practical. ‘Right, we’d better get you sorted out then, hadn’t we? Get out of the bath.’
I obeyed, too numb to do anything else. As I rose from the water, she handed me a towel, which I wrapped around myself, to stand shame-faced by the door as she bent to inspect the washing machine, muttering all the while. ‘It’ll be a while yet. What’s to be done with you then? I’ll tell you what ought to be done with you, young lady. I ought to put you straight across my knee for a good old-fashioned, bare-bottom spanking.’
She left the room and I was left gaping after her. I couldn’t speak, my face and chest were crimson with blushes and I was shaking so badly I could barely hold my towel. There is nothing, but nothing, as humiliating as being spanked bare bottom across the knee. Plenty of punishments hurt more, and plenty are dirtier, but for pure erotic shame there is nothing to compare with lying across somebody’s lap with your panties pulled well down as your bottom is smacked. Twice Juliette Fisher had spanked me across the knee, although she preferred to use implements. Both times it had left me in a puddle on the floor, but both times had been purely for fun. This was real.
I stood there like an idiot, burning with embarrassment and arousal, deeply ashamed of myself for what she’d seen and what I wanted, but desperately in need of exactly that. She had no idea what she’d done to me, and was plainly embarrassed herself, but she was cross too, really cross. I wondered if I dared ask for it, if I could somehow phrase my appeal in such a way that she didn’t realise I was going to get off on my punishment, but I was sure she’d see through me immediately. Then she really would kick me out in the nude.
She’d begun to make tea, of all things, and with the kettle on she went to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Her knees were stuck out, just as if she was about to take a naughty girl across her lap, and I was mesmerised. All I had to do was bend down across her legs and I’d be in spanking position. She’d tell me to get up, not to be so silly, but she was the one who’d said I needed a spanking.
‘Just do it, Lucinda.’
I’d spoken in a breathless whisper, but she heard, turning me a
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