Spanking Erotica
"Schooling Susan," a Licorice Whips story by Peter Rosier
Susan was the great love of my life, and I met her when I was in my early twenties and she was five years younger. She was just about to leave school, and in fact had sent me a photograph of herself in school uniform by way of introduction. I later learned that there was nothing deliberately titillating intended; it just happened to be the only up to date photograph she had, taken by a school friend one day when they were messing about with an old camera.
This was in the early 1970s and, back then, the Internet had not yet even been imagined, so online dating and computer matching were entirely unthought of. It was a matter of applying by post, having completed a form and getting a list of likely candidates registered to the agency to whom one could write and hopefully meet. A few didn't reply to me or were obviously unsuitable, but Susan did reply and after a letter or two, sent me her picture.
Now, school uniform or not, that picture just blew me away. It showcased a young and pretty girl with light blonde hair, fresh features, and a pretty smile, amply filling a largely unbuttoned school blouse with her tie knot hauled down her chest. She had bare legs and, I guessed, a much shorter than regulation skirt. She embodied every red-blooded male's fantasy come true, and she was writing to me! Better yet, she liked me, so far as I could tell. Even the rather well worn photograph that I sent her was admired. So we arranged to meet.
On our first date, we went to the movies. I can't recall what we saw, but I do remember her hand holding mine in the dark. Then I remember her hand gently easing mine up under her mini skirt and pressing my fingers against her sweetly unshaven mound (waxing not being the fashion then). She pushed her panties aside and led my fingers into her hot and moist slit. I don't know how I didn't come there and then, but somehow I was able to hold back until after the film when we were in my car and headed for a local lover's lane where we completed our first date to my satisfaction – and hers, too, it seemed.
Susan was incredibly innocent and guileless, and at times seemed far younger than her age. Once I took her to see my best friend from school days. He was suitably impressed by her looks, but he was entirely startled to see, when my sweet young miss in her short skirt sat down in a deep armchair, that she had apparently decided against panties that day. (I must admit, I was pretty damned startled myself!) As soon as we were alone, I asked about the missing garment.
"I didn't begin the day without them, silly," she said in complete surprise. "They started to rub me, I was sore so I took them off. I didn't think anyone would notice!"
Susan was also careless. It wasn’t deliberate, she just didn’t pay attention. After we moved in together, I came home several times to find the front door left unlocked. More than once, I found in the morning the stove left on from cooking dinner the night before. Twice, she left the bath taps running, got distracted by phone calls from friends and flooded the flat below.
Many men might have become incredibly frustrated with Susan, but I became inspired.
One evening after dinner, I brought up her forgetfulness. She averted her eyes and blushed. I took her hand in mine. “Let’s make a game of it, Suse. When you ‘misbehave’ in the future, if you are silly or careless, and you agree you have been, then I will punish you. Like a naughty girl. So the next time, you'll think twice. OK?"
She looked up, startled, and gulped. "How, err, punish? I mean what will you do?"
"For a minor offence, I'll put you over the back of a chair and have your panties down and I will spank you by hand on your bare bottom and your thighs. For anything worse or a repeat of the same thing, I will cane you.”
I looked at her and waited for an answer. She looked scared, but a blush of excitement rouged her cheeks.
"We'll start afresh now. Come here, let me give you a hug for being a brave girl," I said in a faux-paternal tone. I kissed her on her forehead. "And a sensible one, too, I think."
I was disappointed over the next few weeks, as Susan was neither silly nor forgetful. But at last, late one night, I got up to get myself a midnight snack. The freezer door was open, and there was a puddle on the floor from where the ice had melted.
I returned to our room. Susan was sleeping soundly, snuggled down in our queen-sized bed.
I shook her shoulder and she opened her eyes, yawned and stretched in her feline feminine way, looking up at me.
"Is it time to get up already?"
"No, Susan, worse than that. How many times have I asked you to shut the fridge door? I found it open again just now, and this time everything's defrosted. I don't spend good money on food to have it wasted!"
I pulled back the bedclothes and helped her out. She looked heart-stoppingly lovely. Her loose fitting, low cut nightdress framed rather than concealed her pretty breasts, and the high hemline revealed her smooth, shapely pink and white thighs.
I led her to the dressing table chair and bent her over it so that her belly just rested on the chair back, her hands grasping either side of the seat. Reaching under her nightie, I pulled down her panties. She squealed in surprise as I pulled them off. I opened her legs further.
"Hold on to the seat, Susan. Please don't put your hand in the way, or you'll get extra spanks."
Drawing back my hand I placed a solid smack on her left rear cheek. She gasped and, after the loud crack, a bright red hand mark appeared on her tender skin. I applied the second spank on top of the first, then a third and fourth, this time on her right buttock. Her pretty bottom was now thoroughly red and clearly smarting.
I noted how the flesh on the back of her pretty slim thighs was tautly stretched as she remained bent over the chair.
"Don't move, Susan. Stay where you are."
I went into the small study next door to the bedroom and retrieved the foot-long wooden ruler from the desk drawer. Thin, but springy, it would hurt, but not permanently mark.
Susan had obediently remained in place. Lining the ruler up with her left thigh, I drew it back and applied it with my full force to the thin flesh, less padded than her cheeks. Her leg bent with the blow, she screamed, mostly from surprise.
I drew the ruler back again and applied the same treatment to the other thigh. There was a loud 'snap' and she involuntarily bent her leg again. She cried out again and tears began to fall.
Returning to the first spanked thigh, I saw a bright ruler mark across the flesh: red turning to purple. I applied the ruler with force again to her thigh just under the first mark.
Susan gasped through her tears.
I repeated the treatment on her other leg. By now she was only just keeping herself up by holding tightly to the chair.
"OK, Susan, that's enough. Back to bed now. I hope you've learned your lesson."
I supported my trembling, spanked-bottom little miss back to bed where she lay face down on the top, unable to bear the weight of bedclothes on her tanned rear.
Susan’s spankings are few and far between, but I suspect that she brings them on purposefully. She’ll “forget something,” and, without being told, will go to the bedroom, strip from the waist down and bend over the chair to await her punishment.
Originally published October 2009