Watching Your Spanking

Would you find it arousing to watch a spanker being spanked?

Is a writer of erotica responsible for the naughtiness they inspire?

Do I, for instance, deserve to be soundly spanked for writing a library full of extremely filthy stories? Is a well-smacked bottom the appropriate consequence for encouraging tens of thousands of readers all around the world to play with themselves? If I was standing before somebody strict, they might consider me a inveterate troublemaker.

A while back, I wrote a post musing on this very question. Then last week, a reader (who would prefer to remain anonymous) stumbled across that post, and shared the fantasy it inspired. This is what she wrote:

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❝ Sir,

Sometimes I like to amuse myself by letting the random post selector choose what will arouse me next. Recently it directed me to a post where you said the naughtiest thing you've ever done is to start your blog - encouraging tens of thousands of people to masturbate to your words. You added that if you had a governess you'd surely be given a well smacked bottom. That set my imagination alight, and sent my fingers down between my thighs.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I imagined you being spanked by your governess. In truth, I imagined a few different scenarios. They all made me very wet. And they made me come so hard, so many times.

My favourite was when I imagined being in an assembly hall full of girls. We are all dressed smartly in our school uniforms, sitting on hard chairs, our hands folded demurely on our laps. We are facing the stage, the epitome of virtuous attentiveness, only the presence of our white panties around our ankles hints something might be happening beneath our skirts.

We pulled our panties down before we sat, so we could impale ourselves upon the monitoring dildos that pointed proudly from the centre of our seats. I was already disgracefully wet, so I sank down the rigid shaft so easily. The names of all in the audience are listed on the large screen at the side of the stage, the text turning from black to green as we’re filled.

These clever protrusions monitor our arousal. As long as we’re good girls, and don’t get carried away, our names will stay green. But if we squirm - or heaven forbid - start to clench and ride, our names will change colour, first to a scolding amber, and then to the public disgrace of red. We know those who fail to heed this final warning earn a bare bottom appointment with Miss’s cane, and a collection of stripes we’ll be ruefully rubbing for days.

I was sitting on my own dildo as I imagined all this, trying hard to be a good girl, and doing my best not to squirm. But I couldn’t help but imagine you being led onto the stage by a stern lady just like the governess you described in your recent story. I could picture every detail of her full length black Edwardian dress, and her elegant figure-hugging bodice.

Our governess nods in satisfaction as she surveys the rows of impeccably motionless young ladies, before taking her own seat in the centre of the stage. You stand in front of her, smirking as you glance at the screen and see some names have already turned orange. Miss scolds your impertinence, saying you should be ashamed that your words have caused all of us here, and countless more abroad, to be so very naughty. She delivers her verdict, you deserve to receive the punishment for our filthy misbehaviour.

Not that you look at all ashamed, if anything, you’re trying not to look too pleased with yourself. She harrumphs, infuriated by your lack of remorse. She unbuttons your trousers, and tugs them down to your ankles. You begin to protest as she pulls down your briefs, but she silences you with a frown and asserts that naughty boys always get smacked on their bare bottoms. Her eyes seem to shine brighter as she says this, and you can't deny that you have been a very naughty boy.

Imagining all this made me clench so hard around my dildo.

We all catch a glimpse of your erect cock before she grasps your wrist and tugs you over her lap, prompting several names on the screen to change colour, darkening to oranges and even reds. She gazes out at us and reminds us that any girl cumming in her seat will remain behind after your spanking. She doesn't need to spell out what will happen but the threat tips several more names into the red.

We all gasp as she suddenly strikes your bottom with her open palm. The sound of the smack echoes through the hall, as a small splotch of pink appears on your pale skin. She scolds as she spanks you, pausing to call out our names from those assembled, prompting them to bashfully confess their sordid activities in front of everybody.

“I read his stories in bed as I stroked my pussy.”

“I came in punishment panties pulled so tight while reading his stories.”

“I like to imagine being spanked over his lap while I grind into my pillow.”

“I imagine him bending me over and spanking me hard before fucking my sore bottom.”

Then it's my turn, I utter my admission aloud in my bedroom.

“I read his stories on the train and came in my seat, right in front of everyone.”

Because that’s exactly what I did.

Each confession prompts our governess to deliver a new flurry of smacks that make you buck and squirm. Each time she scolds you for having such a dirty mind, and for inspiring so much debauched behaviour. You respond by indignantly pointing out that you didn't make any of us do anything, and that we masturbated to your stories because we're naughty little girls with filthy minds. She doesn't seem to think this is much of an excuse, silencing each protestation by spreading your cheeks apart, and landing another flurry of hard rapid smacks. You are starting to squirm over her lap and your bum is glowing pink all over.

My pussy is dripping, I can feel my vagina clench as I stare in fascination at you getting spanked just like a naughty boy. As she moves down to smack your thighs you kick your legs and soon your trousers and pants are pooled around your feet. She tells you what a silly little boy you are, to be kicking and squirming like this, then asks you if you're sorry for writing such disgraceful smut.

We all hold our breath. No Miss, you reply, politely and slightly breathlessly but still quite defiantly. She tuts but doesn't seem too annoyed, in fact she seems to be quite cheerful as she continues spanking your glowing red buttocks and thighs, smiling as you wriggle.

The squirming in the audience is almost as vigorous as yours. Half of us are wishing we were in your place, and the other half is delighted to be watching you take the kind of spanking you describe to us every night in our beds. We are revelling in the schadenfreude of you being punished because we couldn't stop ourselves from sliding our fingers down between our thighs, and masturbating to your filthy words.

I notice your squirming has a rhythm now, how with every smack you thrust forward a little. I realise that you're grinding against your governess's thigh, and my pussy throbs as I hear your gasps. My name goes deep red but it isn't the only one. All around me girls are rocking slightly on the monitoring dildos, eyes fixed on your firm bottom, and that region between your thighs, hoping for another fleeting glimpse of what dangles there.

Our governess begins to tease you, asking you if you want to come in front of us all. She asks if knowing we're all watching you being spanked like a little boy is exciting you - and do you think naughty boys deserve to come like this? It seems words have deserted you for once. Finally, she directs you to rise from her lap at last. Now we all see your cock fully revealed, thick and hard and glistening, jutting forward defiantly. We see everything, and more names go red.

Miss orders you to bend over and touch your toes, whilst she collects a cane from behind her chair. The first stroke cracking against your flesh makes you jerk and grunt, sending me into a convulsing orgasm.

When I recover my senses I look up to the screen, and see my name now has a little cane symbol beside it, and I’m not alone. Miss continues whacking you, and I continue to ride wantonly with every stroke. Another little cane appears beside my name: I’m going to get such a sore bum thanks to you, but I’ve passed the point where I can control myself.

By the time your whacking ends, several names have little collections of canes beside them. She orders you to stand again, and you grin as you see the trouble you’ve got us in, before hastily modifying your expression to something more contrite. I doubt she buys it, but lets your act pass without comment. She wraps her hand around your stiff cock, leading you by it to the back of the stage, where you stand with your arms folded behind your back, with your new pink stripes on display.

Then, one by one, those of us who came in our seats are called forward. We waddle up the steps to the stage, with our panties still around our ankles like we’re convicts in leg irons. We take our turn bending over and feel our skirts being lifted.

As we’re caned we steal glances across at you, now standing casually, hands clasped above your firm bare cheeks, as if you’d been strolling through an art gallery, and had stopped to admire a masterpiece. In this case, as you peer over your shoulder with a smile, you’re clearly appreciating our cute bare bottoms, the excellence of our governess’s disciplinary technique, and the intensity of our whackings.

Watching you get spanked made us all so wet, and we all will get such sore bottoms for it. It seems only fitting you get to watch us all getting caned, and that will keep you so hard.

I want you to know Sir, I came so hard picturing all this. First when I imagined you over our governess's knee. I came in waves, my whole body rigid as I convulsed on my seat. When I moved to my bed, I played on my front, almost yelling into my pillows. My head pulsed for minutes afterwards. And then I did it all again, imagining your caning, and how hard it made you. Then I imagined my own caning from Miss, how sore it would be, but also how it made me drip, until I came clenching so hard it made me ache.

I want you to know Sir, I’ve written all this without wearing any panties. It’s been so hard to keep my fingers on the keyboard, and not plunge them deep into my needy wet slit.

I hope your other readers will think of more ways to spank you in their own minds. I hope they’ll take what I’ve written and rub as they imagine you being spanked, until it’s added to their library of favourite fantasies. And I hope you'll continue to be a naughty boy, telling us filthy stories that get us into trouble, so we all deserve well-smacked bottoms too.

❞

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Novelty is the essence of eroticism

I want express huge thanks to the generous reader for her wonderful submission. I hope you enjoyed her imaginings as much as I did.

As well as being an exciting and evocative read, it also raises intriguing points about what we find arousing. It prompted me to post a poll on Twitter/X asking if respondents only found the spanking of "submissive" individuals arousing, or whether they found the spanking of "dominant" folk arousing as well.

42% said they only found watching subs being spanked arousing, whilst 58% said watching both subs and doms being spanked would turn them on.

I found those results fascinating. Maybe watching the tables being turned, and spankers getting spanked is a more popular fantasy than I’d ever thought. It's certainly an under-explored theme in spanking fiction, but the more I think about it, the more I see its marvellous erotic possibilities.

I suspect everyone noticed long ago that most kinky erotica, whether written or visual, tends to involve recipients who "appear" submissive — younger, meeker, more compliant, you know the trope. But there's no reason why the recipient couldn't be a strict or seemingly dominant individual instead, something I explored myself in my recent governess story.

Of course, we all have our personal preferences about what we find alluring and sexy, which may be expectations shaped by what we’ve read and watched over the years. But there are also other factors that arouse us, like watching surreptitiously, or in the company of others, which is Why Public Spankings Turn Us On.

Being spanked in front of others is a surprisingly common fantasy, even though most who fantasise about it would find the reality of being exposed and spanked quite mortifying. But that’s the thing about eroticism, the more transgressive and embarrassing the fantasy, the hotter it usually seems.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from years of writing about kink, it’s people crave novelty. Especially when it comes to sex. Everyone is voraciously hungry for new ideas, and far more open than you might think to trying out new experiences.

Human sexuality is driven by novelty seeking. I’d go as far as to say novelty matters more to us than pleasure. The sensations we feel are constrained by our biology, they’re wonderful, but are mostly the same each time. When it comes to sexual experiences though, endless variety is possible — we can act out and enjoy anything we can imagine. Or, through the magic of words, anything our partner, or even a faraway writer like me, can imagine.

I believe novelty is the essential essence of eroticism. So when I write, I’m keen to not to keep writing variations on the same familiar stories. I want to experiment with different genres and explore new erotic possibilities. I want to subvert the stale sexual cliches, and challenge your expectations. I consider my fundamental task as an erotic writer is to surprise and delight you.

I can't deny that it arouses me greatly to think of how many of you all across the world are playing whilst reading my words. So rest assured, I intend to continue being an incredibly naughty boy and getting you into all sorts of trouble.

And maybe the next time you slip your fingers between your legs, you'll be imagining me getting just what I deserve.