Last night’s spanking dream has left me completely unable to concentrate on anything else today. It was just perfect.
I was a girl in the care of a very distinguished tutor my parents had engaged to prepare me for university. He could discipline me in any way he saw fit, and quite frequently this translated into copious corporal punishment.
Most of the time he used a cane or a strap to punish me, as befitted a nearly grown-up young lady like me. Every misdeed was recorded in a leather-bound punishment book, along with the number of strokes I got.
Here’s the thing, though: every time the tally got up to forty strokes, he turned me over his knee, pulled down my knickers, and smacked me with his hand as though I was a naughty child. He gave me exactly forty slaps.
Where the more grown-up implements seemed to me like part of a fair educational deal, these over-the-knee spankings left me inconsolable, and I cried my eyes out every time.
At the same time, the dream was so delicious I was making a conscious effort not to wake up from it. I guess, part of my dream self enjoyed the strict regime.
I wish your spanking dream was a reality. Because Haron, I would have love to pull your knickers down, and give you 25 strokes from a stingy pliable cane, upon that voluptous bare bottom of yours.
That’s a fascinating twist on how these things usually work – with the cane being for more serious misbehaviour than a hand-spanking. I love the turn of events that the more embarrassing OTK spanking is actually the more serious and humiliating punishment…