This erotic story is inspired by the knicker-soaking hotness of this post by the wonderful Cara Thereon – who I am also super excited to meet very soon! This story actually completely took me by surprise, and went a very different way to how I’d planned it in my head. However, it does capture something I’ve been thinking over in the last few days, and I hope you like it.
“I think you do it because you like it when I punish them.”
I try to look innocent, as though she hasn’t just spoken truer words about me than I ever expected to hear.
“What do you mean, ma’am?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean, little girl. You like getting them into trouble, because you get off on their cries when I remind them of their place. You cause mischief, and encourage the others to conspire together so they get out of spankings. You give good girls orgasms, and then smirk when you get beaten next to each other. You are a bad, bad girl, little slut. Strip.”
I pause only for a fraction of a second, and then begin to do as she said. Her words echo in my head as I undress quickly, messily, under her cool gaze. By the time I’m down to my panties, I know they’re wet. She’s holding her hand out, and I obey the wordless command and hand my white lacy knickers to her. I almost melt into a pool of arousal when she raises them to her nose and inhales my scent. She makes a barely audible noise of pleasure and arousal.
When her eyes meet mine, though, they’re steady.
“And bad, bad girls get punished. Bend over the chair.”
Again, I do as she orders, wetness dripping down between my legs. I stand on tip-toe and the back of the chair digs painfully into my stomach as I lean over to grasp its legs. I’m off balance and shaking a little, with anticipation and excitement and a tiny dot of fear. After weeks of being bratty, daring the other girls to break rules, and seeing how much trouble I could get myself into, I felt like I finally might have got into a situation way beyond my control.
I don’t wiggle my bottom at her, as I would on other occasions when I was over someone’s knee or bent over a desk next to another squirming girl waiting to be spanked. I’m not trying to push her further. I’m pretty sure that right now, this woman can see into my soul and knows exactly what I want her to do.
“Or maybe it’s not only because you like watching me show them their place, but because you love to be reminded of yours.”
Yes. Please.
Image sourced through Pixabay.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a freelance journalist, sex writer, and professional transsexual. His work focuses on dismantling shame and queering sex.
