From Privilege Club 11
When you first glimpse my innocent face, the wide, green eyes, full-lipped mouth and pure countenance, you probably think that the sweet and endearing girl before you is as angelic as she looks. You will soon learn the truth!
It shan’t be long before that little Lolita reveals her true colours as the most impudent, vain and incorrigible brat that ever was thrown across a knee. I am sure you will agree that there never was a more beautiful bottom than mine. But in order to enjoy the privilege of punishing me, my chastener must first overcome the marvellously erotic sight my bare bottom presents (indeed, it must seem a shame at first to disturb such an incredible pair of pert, rounded young buttocks), in order to be as strict and unyielding as my behaviour warrants.
When a stern Sir or Madame decides that he or she has had quite enough of my impertinence and has my girlish bum-cheeks in a vulnerable posture — exposed, quivering, ready — the question now falls to the choice of implement with which to carry out the solemn deed. That is why I have compiled this list of some of the implements that have graced my lovely bottom.
THE CANE: This is one callous and effective teacher that I have managed to avoid at school. Even at my expensive academy, administering corporal punishment is illegal. So tongues out and raspberries to all my teachers and my headmaster, who I am sure would love to bend the rule to bend the rule and give me several stinging scarlet stripes. Lecherous old fool! (Oops, I hope he isn’t reading this!) I have, however, received an unwanted but warranted taste of the cane on other occasions. And let me assure you that a cane — any cane — from a slender, whippy rod to a relentless thick, thug of a staff truly hurts like hell. The very sight of it is enough to make me tremble. From past experience, I know that it will stamp its impression across both my poor, unprotected buttocks with unmistakable accuracy. Its concentrated bite will make me howl and I will be still able to see the solemn result of my naughtiness a good two weeks later. Ouch rating 10 out of 10!
THE CROP: Thankfully, thus far my punishers have not had the heart to truly whip a schoolgirl, even one as impish as I am, but I can profess to several sharp visits from the riding-crop (damn that horrid dragon of a riding instructor!). The crop’s flexible leather end delivers a focused, roasting smart to my naked, peachy flesh, leaving crimson brands where it kisses. It is usually delivered as I am bent, in humiliation, over a chair or desk with my nubile back arched and the world’s most spankable rear in the air begging the crop’s attention.
THE WOODEN PADDLE: I can almost feel its flailing flurry of warming swats on my taut little bottom. The ping-pong style bat gives an even, all-over heating. Then there’s a scrumptious, ruby glow about half-an-hour later as long as my hapless cheeks can bear the immediate onslaught of a sound paddling. Also, as our cook has discovered, the thin wooden chopping boards with the handle make very potent deterrents of bad behaviour. Midnight snacks are out of the question. Much to my dismay, the cook and her ruthless kitchen paddle are becoming as much of a team to be feared as Daddy and his belt! Between the two teams, I think I shall be sleeping on my stomach for a very long time!