Girl on girl, a few thoughts

I stand to be corrected on this, but I suspect that when we girls give a spanking we have a more finely tuned sense of what it is about than a man about to administer punishment. After all, most of use served our apprenticeship in the subject across the knee of horny opportunists, dominant lovers, and lascivious older men, having our bottoms crimsoned as we squealed and protested. We know exactly what the squirming little creatures are going through when we lower their panties and stroke their peachy little bottoms, wondering if we are going to be kind or cruel, take pleasure in their pain, or simply tease and stimulate with a token punishment that is little more than foreplay to something else entirely.



It’s a fact of life that victims become oppressors when the opportunity presents itself. It’s not surprising therefore that after several years of being told that you are wicked little minx and just how much you deserve the spanking he’s being kind enough to give you, that when your moment comes and some delightful little creature has submitted to being punished by you for the first time that the temptation to wallow in this new power is hard to resist. Now you understand at last why spanking you gave him such a vibrant erection and why he had such an urgent need to expel it’s hardness into you afterwards.


Personally I find those delicious pre-spanking moments almost more arousing than the spanking itself, the sudden realization that there is a complete change of dynamic when you look at her with that unmistakable gleam in your eye. “You’ve gone to far young Jennifer (or whoever). I think I’m going to have to spank you.” And the look of mixed apprehension and excitement on her face when she realizes that, oh God, she’s going to be spanked! I love those irreplaceable moments when she’s first across your knee and you’re almost purring with pleasure as you pull her skirt to her waist and stroke her bottom, slipping your fingers inside the leg of her panties and making her wriggle.

“You know I’m going to have to pull your knickers down.” You say, because even just saying it turns you on, and of course she begs you not to, knowing of course that simply nothing will stop you. You both know that there’s no need to pull them down, they are so skimpy and briefly cut they don’t offer even token protection, but its all part of the wonderful ritual that makes giving and receiving a spanking so exciting, reducing the humiliated victim to nothing more than a naughty little girl who has no say in the matter whatsoever.



And just as men always do to you, you can’t resist circling her now naked bottom with your hand, wallowing in the feel of her young vulnerable flesh as if gauging exactly what level of spanking it most needs. Would she benefit most from sharp and fast, a rain of endless little stings, or a firm steady and apparently dispassionate rhythm to teach her the best lesson. But however hard you pretend, it cannot possibly be dispassionate as already you are both moist between the legs, and when that first crisp spank lands and she lets out a tiny scream, the jag of erotic arousal that shoots through you is like a sharp violin note preparing you for the symphony of pleasure that spanking her is going to be.

And afterwards, but I don’t have to say much about afterwards, the sweet pleasures of her contrite affection and your own loving benevolence as you melt into each other, mutually undressing and whispering endearments. So sweet it’s hardly surprising how quickly she misbehaves again, this time taking the initiative herself.

“I’m really sorry.” She says looking at you with limpid eyes. “I’ve been very naughty.” I think you might have to spank me again.”