Let's All Beat Abby

Since I was a teen, one of my recurring fantasy scenarios is that of being spanked in a public or semi-public setting. As often happens, I was surprised when I found myself orgasming to something that hadn't occurred to me in normal thought. It worked, though. I've carried this one with me for at least fifteen years.

I'd been a naughty girl, but my parents, who didn't believe in doing the spanking themselves, had sent me to a neighbor's house for my punishment. (In other versions, it was a wicked uncle, and--this is fun--later on it was the man who would become my husband as a character who ran a spanking operation that looked like a noir detective agency, complete with the huge wooden desk that nearly fills the front room and a frosted glass door leading to the punishment room.)

This time, after the lecturing and the tucking of my skirt into the waistband of my panties, he opened the curtains that had been covering the French window in the front room. A small crowd of people had gathered on his lawn and were leering in at us. I shrieked; he laughed, placing a wooden chair just feet from the glass. "Over my knee, young lady," he demanded, commanding me to leave the corner in which I'd placed myself in attempt to hide from the neighborhood crowd.

I shuffled over to him, grateful my panties were still up, and, tears already in my eyes, awkwardly bent myself over his lap. Immediately my left arm was in his grasp and held against the small of my back. I kicked and squirmed. "They're watching!" I cried. "You can't do this! My parents didn't ask you to do this!"

He laughed again. "Oh, but they did," he said, slapping my cotton-clad bottom lightly, as if in jest. "In your galavanting, you have crushed Mrs. Johnson's herb garden, Mr. Alan's exotic rose bushes, Miss Violet's pansies and impatiens, and cracked Mr. Smith's new walkway. You broke the latch on your parents' back gate and at least three slats of the fence that is meant to keep miscreants like you and your boyfriends out of the woods behind my yard. Shall I continue?"

"No, sir," I gulped. He was right. My friends and, yes, some of them boyfriends, had been sneaking around late at night when we were supposed to be in our own beds or at slumber parties. Apparently, we hadn't been exactly careful in the sneaking.

"Your parents let everyone on the block know of your punishment." He slapped my right bottom-cheek quite firmly, three times in a row. I moaned and wiggled. "You're lucky they didn't offer to let everyone have an equal go at you." Three quick slaps to the left side made me writhe all the more, more in embarrassment than pain. I snuck a glance towards the window and saw Miss Violet nodding in approval. The set line of Mr. Smith's face led me to believe that he would have accepted his turn on my backside had he been given the chance.

My attention was drawn back to my predicament when I felt my panties being yanked down to the tops of my thighs. "I'm not a little girl anymore," I cried. "You can't let them seeeeeee..."

"Stop whining." His hand began to land in steady firm smacks back and forth across my bottom. "A little girl might not realize when she's stomping on prize-winning roses, but you ought to know the difference between a bare patch and a bush, shouldn't you?" I felt both sets of cheeks growing red. "And a real young woman does not dally with her boyfriends behind fences at midnight, does she?" The spanking was relentless now. As I kicked, my panties slid down my thighs. He followed their progress with firm slaps before trailing back up to his main target. "I ought to let them in," he told me. "Let each of them whip you as they see fit. Would that teach you not to trample from one yard to the next? If instead you are beaten with hand then strap then paddle, from one lap to the next?"

I always come at the word "beaten" and this first fantasy of a public spanking was no exception, and so there is no more of this particular tale. If it had continued, would I have been beaten by the band of neighbors after all? Of course, in due time. In some versions, the neighbor has set out implements for them to choose from, the only rule being that the same implement cannot be used twice. In another version, there is a lottery, or I get to choose who gets to punish me, only to find that I've chosen terribly, terribly incorrectly.

I've never been spanked publically in reality. I'm not sure I'd want to be. Our bedroom being a yard away from our neighbors' front porch is probably close enough. But my mind comes back to scenes such as this one, so rife with shame and humilation along with the promise of punishment. Sometimes the set up is so good I don't even get to the spanking. It's the possibility that gets me, I think. Anyone could be watching. Anyone, though even in fantasy these days it's anyone as long as it's my husband's hands and face, could have a go at my backside.

Today I finally added a stat-tracker and found one of the biggest turn ons of all for a spanking exhibitionist, even a secret one like me. Anyone could be reading this. Judging by the list of countries that has popped up this afternoon alone, everyone's having a mental go at my backside after all.

(I should start noting where I'm stealing my titles from, even if I can't always remember where I've found some of the pictures I post. This time it was inspired by Ray Bradbury's Let's All Kill Constance.)