This short story is an entry in the 2011 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Setting
Note: Another spanking site I participate in, the Library of Spanking Fiction, has statistics for commenting on stories–among other things. "Miss Thrashbottom" is the Library's fantasy disciplinarian.]
The Thousand-Comment Society
LATE MAY 2011
I'd managed to reach 1,000 story comments and my cyber-verbosity had been remarked upon in its own thread in the Library of Spanking Fiction's forum, which was flattering. Not that I was the first Library member to have posted a thousand comments on stories, there were a couple fellow commenters who were well ahead of me there, although I did figure that I might have posted the most words in commentary.
When I noticed the e-mail that was from "LSF Disciplinary Office," it struck me as some sort of a prank by a Library colleagues—and the message only confirmed that impression: "Congratulations on joining the Library's Thousand-Comment Society, your presence in the cyber- virtual realm is required for the initiation ceremony." It was signed "Sincerely, Theresa T," with a "REPORT TO ME" URL link in scarlet print below.
It was obviously a silly joke, which I played along with via positioning my cursor over the instruction and left-clicking my mouse. Immediately the screen began to radiate a bright bluish light, making me extremely disoriented; I momentarily lowered my head to the desktop and briefly closed my eyes.
When I opened them again I was standing in front of an old- fashioned, thickly-varnished oaken door in a carpeted hallway. A brass plate on the wall by the doorway read "THERESA THRASHBOTTOM, DISCIPLINARIAN" in gothic lettering; the door swung inward to reveal a tall, slim, fortyish woman with a stern visage, dressed like a nineteenth-century private school headmistress—ankle-length, long- sleeved midnight blue dress, calf-high shiny black boots and leather kid gloves; her auburn hair was held in a bun atop her head while her facial features were finely beautiful yet severe.
"Crimson, I presume?" she demanded, motioning with a crook-handled rattan cane gripped in her right hand. "Enter!" Numbly I walked into the elegant old-style study. "You're prepared for your initiation ceremony, I take it—except for exposing your posterior."
I gulped. "You're Miss Thrashbottom, exactly as I envisioned you— this room too."
"Representing your mental images," she noted, "Including my first name—your physical form here likewise represents mine of you, as an eighteen-year-old schoolboy." Her cane rapped the desktop. "Trousers and drawers at your ankles, then bend far forward—I want a truly tempting target." As I obeyed, fumbling with the unfamiliar old-style uniform, the woman read a ledger she'd opened. "The duration of your chastisement is directly proportional to the overall length of your comments, while its intensity reflects the punishments in your own stories." She chortled. "My, all those multiple-implement thrashings– I'll need a Spencer paddle and razor strop, but we'll begin with the cane."
My upthrust naked buttcheeks trembled. "Since this is cyber- virtual, will I…??"
The whippy rod tapped my wide-open undercheeks. "…Feel it? What would be the point otherwise?" Adjusting her stance, Miss Thrashbottom raised the cane to strike. "However, like your sore-bottomed protagonists, you'll enjoy it subconsciously…Ready for a thorough whipping, Crimson?"
I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
SWIIIISH-SWAACK!! With blazing intensity, my initiation started…
The End
© Copyright 2011 Crimson Kid
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