A Sample Story written by Victoria Fox

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The Professor Who Spanked Me

     One of the last times I got a spanking was while I was on vacation. I was in a busy city where I have a lot of old friends, and one of them happens to be a professor. I was never his student, not in any officially academic way, although I did learn some things from him. We used to get together for a beer and some chit chat, or we might wind up hanging out in his quaint old house. He had an amazing music and book collection, and we would sit for hours and talk about it sometimes over a glass of wine. I looked him up when I was visiting, because he was also one of my spanking friends- and well, after the first time he spanked me I haven’t missed any opportunity for more education!

     One of the first times we were hanging out, I discovered that we share the same kink. It was neat for me, because even though I didn’t place him in the same category as romantic friends, he fit a certain archetype. The funny part is that I knew he was a professor- but not that he is also a drummer on the side. Let me tell you, drummers are very practiced at whacking things with precision, I’ll warn you with that about letting any of them spank you! I, however, was not so wise. I took a bar bet with him, which would mean an hour long spanking of I lost. An hour! I can be smug, but what was I thinking? Oh, you’re guessing right- I lost the bet. He let me finish my glass of wine and cigarette, and asked me to go into his spare bedroom.

     He sat down and pulled me over his lap. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening! I didn’t have to wonder long about whether or not he was serious. First he started to spank me with his hand, and then he picked up a hairbrush– that just happened to be laying there. Huh? I realized at that moment that I had sort of been set up. He had this in mind before he made that bet. He started paddling my bottom with the hairbrush like a naughty little girl, as I realized that this was only going to get worse. And go on for a long time….. Now, my skirt wasn’t even up yet, and he asks me “Oh, what time did we start?” I didn’t know. He lifted my nose up so I could take notice of the clock in the corner. Then he explained to me that I should have known it was my responsibility to keep track of time. He started over, pulling up my skirt. I winced, knowing this professor was now seeing my lacy little red panties. He put the hairbrush down for a moment and proceeded to slap my ass with his hand, hard. The smacks rained down in different spots, and I was beginning to feel a building hot burn. I squirmed a little and he hooked his leg over mine, pinned my wrist to my back, and picked the hairbrush up. I hadn’t been making much noise about it yet, but as he brought the wooden back down spanking me with it, I yelped and squeaked out little surprised sounds of discomfort. He didn’t seem to care…..

     I looked up at the clock, and realized with mild horror that it had only been about 5 minutes. My bottom must have been glowing red outside the edges of my panties, which I soon felt him tugging on. He made me lean up slightly, which I did without hesitation, and he pulled them down. I whimpered and felt my face flush with embarrassment, knowing that he could see my bottom and mean to continue spanking me. Did I think he had just been joking? Or had I really been looking for a way to get him to do this all along?

     Either way it didn’t matter. Something cool and different was on my bare bottom. With a resounding swat I realized it was a wicked little wooden paddle. It stung so much I couldn’t believe it. I must have started to struggle more than I realized, because he sternly told me to stay still and them swatted me about 25 times in rapid succession. I had wanted to be spanked, and now I was fighting myself not to fight the person delivering it. Clearly, would I have taken a bet like that if I didn’t want to do it, deep down? Probably not. Yet I was becoming miserable as i watched the blinking lights of the clock slip by so slowly. Seven minutes, nine minutes.

     He stopped for a second and unbuckled my cute little shoes and tossed them aside. I heaved a deep breath, and he pulled my stockings off. They had become twisted up about my ankles. Then he made me stand up and put my hands on the bed. He talked about my bottom, which made me feel more embarrassed. He told me to stick it out as far as I could, and rubbed his hands across the burning surface for a second, before telling me how red it was. He said he thought I really was a naughty girl in some aspects of my life, and that I probably really needed to be spanked. He asked me if that was true, and I sighed and agreed. He told me he thought I had probably had this coming for a long time. Then I heard him unbuckle his belt and I shuddered.

     Fiery lines of heat cracked across my bottom loudly, seeming to make sound first and then be felt half a second later. He whipped me with the belt maybe 12 times and then told me to kneel on the floor and lean over the bed. He kept whipping my hot bare bottom with the belt, and I held onto the other side of the mattress to try to keep myself in position. A long few minutes went by, and he dropped the belt to the floor and pulled me back across his lap. Then he continued spanking me all over with his hand, squeezing here and there, running his fingers across a line, and then slapping hard again. This time he started to get my thighs really good, and it definitely got my attention. Now we were at 23 minutes. I wasn’t crying but I felt close to it, and didn’t know how I could possibly take any more. I was determined not to back out, though.

     My legs were quivering when he stopped for a moment and made me stand up. I was told to hold my skirt up in behind and not even think of rubbing it. Then the professor made me go stand in the corner while holding it up like that. He told me that it didn’t count as spanking time, but that he wanted me to think on all the things I probably really should get spanked for. I squirmed. I tapped my foot. He told me to stand still and behave, that he wanted me to know what it felt like to have my bottom on display like that. I could feel it throbbing and knew it must be bright red. Standing in the corner like that made me feel sheepish and childish. I didn’t want to stand there! Still, I didn’t want him to call me out of the corner, because I knew I still had a long spanking to go. He made me stand there for about five minutes, although it seemed like an hour.

     Finally he told me to lay back over the bed, and I saw that there was a switch in his hand. He stacked a few pillows up and I was made to place myself over them. Then I had to ask him to “Please, spank me. Give me a good switching and then paddle my bare behind again. I know I deserve it.” I gulped as I finished saying the words he made me repeat, and then he started to whip me with the switch. The thin whippy switch was not as heavy as the belt, but it stung intensely every time it swished across my bottom. I was now writhing across the pillows, and embarrassed about how much of me he could see. It didn’t matter, I was getting my licking anyway. I started kicking my feel a little, and he smacked harder and told me to stop. Somehow the first forty minutes passed.

     Then he picked up the paddle and I shuddered. For some reason I was suddenly determined not to let him see me make a big deal about this. I resolved to go ahead and take the rest of my spanking, and I wasn’t going to cry or make a fuss about it. I screwed up so much false pride about it that I actually took this opportunity to say something sassy. Let me tell you, when your bare bottom is up in the air and someone is preparing to give you a good, hard paddling anyway, maybe that’s not the best time to smart off. The paddle popped against my behind extraordinarily fast, and suddenly I was wailing. My friend just laughed at me and continued to spank me some more. He had sound proof walls and his neighbors were not close by, so it wasn’t like anyone was going to hear or notice what was going on.

     Another ten minutes passed and he used a different paddle for a few minutes, the difference in sensation making the sting almost unbearable. He paused for a minute and rubbed some cool moisturizing lotion all over my bottom. His hands were gentle, but the sensation of being touched made me nearly jump into the air. My bottom hurt so much! He told me that he was doing it to help keep the skin moist, and also because it would make the last of my spanking sting more. Then he hauled me back over his knee and told me he was going to be “nice” by just spanking me with his hand for the rest of the time. Oww. Nine minutes. The curve of his hand moved with my skin on impact for every swat. I was squirming around, but he had me held down tight.

     I felt the panic rise again, as he smacked harder and faster than it seemed possible. My thoughts were in a flurry, like his hand, and then suddenly I was calm. The spanking continued for another three minutes, and it really hurt, but I just took deep breaths and watched the clock flashing, having slipped into some kind of meditational place where I felt very at peace. Finally he stopped spanking me and told me I could get up. Shakily, I put my clothing back in order. We shared another glass of wine and I went home to mull the evening’s surprises over.

The moral of the story: Be careful when placing bets, sometimes they get called in.

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did.  Have a Very Happy New Year!!  Please drive safely. Party at home, it's safer.  After all, it's an Amateur Drunk Night.

Until next time,
Jadedjewel