I whined and moaned, kicking my legs and fidgeting, pleading with her to let me up. Miss Craven ignored me completely, concentrating on whacking my bum as soundly as she could. She spanked slowly and deliberately, and nothing I did varied her tempo in the least. Soon the dull warmth became a mild burn, and then a sizzle, and I began to writhe and turn my bottom to avoid the blows. It wasn’t something I did consciously — I couldn’t help myself. There was no escaping the spanks, but I did manage to rotate my bottom so the spanks never landed in the same spot twice in a row. “Stop wiggling,” scolded Miss Craven, not halting her discipline in the least.
A Trip to the Head22
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