Philosophy of a Spanking, A Tale by Da Panda

(Haha. I wrote this in this teacher's class, Philosophy 8.“Hard logic.” It looked like I was taking notes because I would write and occasionally glance up at him. If only he knew.)

I listened listlessly as his lulling; dulling voice rocked me gently to sleep. He had been harping heartfully on the same 2 points for the heartier part of an hour. I was bored, badly. I thought I saw him looking my way every now and then as I saw my soft, satin, smoke colored eyelashes flutter close and I flitted and fluttered and escaped the sleepy, stupid section of my life called school. I slept.

I woke up. I glanced up from my pool of drool to see my garrulous professor glaring at me. I watched him warily as I realized weirdly that all my classmates had left. Shit.

The professor began to approach me in a predatory way as my pubescent heart palpitated and pumped. Suddenly his tacky, sad plaid blue shirt didn't look so dorky. Now it was mature, and rugged. "How was your nap?" he affably entreated. His formerly dull, tenor voice deepened and became penetrating and when he spoke it immediately invoked a swelling in the regions of which one does not speak of in proper society.

"I'm sorry," was all I managed.

He smiled, and looked excited."You will be, little girl."His short, dork frame is transformed at his approach. Suddenly he seems to me to be tall, dark, and hot. I squirm nervously in my seat until he tells me to stand up. I nearly die. I ask him why and he says he's going to punish me, a spanking. I protested the legality of such action and he smiled. He said that this was between me and him and not in the context of the classroom. He said that he was not going to spank me for my poor behaviour in the face of his pedagogue, but because he knew I wanted it. He said he could see it in my eyes. I turned red and he smiled. He went back to his seat behind his desk and beckoned me. I wondered why I was cooperating as I stood up and walked towards him. When I arrived he smiled encouragingly and guided me over his lap."Good girl," he murmured.

My rate of respiration increased as his legs pressed against the expanding, oscillating, warming mass of jello in my stomach. He allowed me to lie there for a moment, alternately rubbing my lower back and backside. After a few minutes he asked me if I was ready. I said yes. I could hear his hand rise off of my bottom and then a soft movement of air and finally a solid smack as his hand collided with my flesh. I cried out. It stung more vividly than in my fantasies. He rubbed my bottom for a moment before raising his hand and bringing it down again, this time on the right cheek. I clutched his leg as my nether regions clench. He took this as a sign and continued, slowly setting a pace.

Small moans and whimpers escaped me every now and then, despite my embarrassed attempts to hide my wantonness. I squirmed on his lap in pleasure and pain. As the slaps continued to fall, my backside began to smart of its’ own accord and his hand became only a contributor. As I continued to move about upon his lap, he held me tighter with his free arm and I felt a fresh jolt between my legs. Suddenly he stopped and as soon as I realized it, to my utter and immediate shame, I cried out.

"Why?"

He chuckled. He reached his fingers into the waistband of my jeans,and pulled them down. I did not object. By that time I would have done whatever he told me. He did, however, leave my panties intact, for which I was grateful. He must have sensed my gratefulness, for he chose that moment to laugh and say,"I do not need to remove your undergarments to see how much you are enjoying this".

He lightly touched the crotch of my underwear and I realized to my utter mortification how wet it was. Tears of abject humiliation filled my eyes and I covered my face with my hands and arms. He just chuckled and resumed spanking me. I hadn't realized how much protection my jeans had offered me. The sting of his palm was now producing a steady burn, both on my backside and in my loins. Soon all I could hear was the constant cracking of skin against panty-clad backside, and all I could feel was what his attentions produced in my body and all could see was the inside of my eyelids as I clenched them shut due to sensory overload. He told me afterward that by that time I had started making noise, consistently, most of it carnally-oriented. I can't remember, though I felt his arm tighten around my waist as I started bucking and kicking ever harder. Finally I squeezed my legs together, desperate for some kind of stimulation and very quickly achieved a dazzling orgasm. I arched my back and then collapsed on his legs, exhausted. He slowly stopped spanking me and after his hand had come to a complete stop he tapped my back with his two fingers to signal that I should get up off of him. I did so and looked around and at him stupidly.  He chuckled and after a moment I realized what I must look like and replaced my pants and tried to stop looking so post-orgasmic.

He smiled again and told me not to be embarrassed. He asked me how I felt, I could only nod. Later I would work up the courage to ask if we could do it again He told me I did well and after I fully realized the situation and became slightly distraught, he promised not to tell a soul. I smiled and thanked him. We hugged. We talked a little and then drifted into silence. I said that I needed to go home and he said he understood. I floated out the door and returned home, sorer and happier than when I had left.

The End © Da Panda