Spanking Sarah
by Anonymous
Copyright© 2025 by Anonymous
Erotica Sex Story: A woman recounts her involvement in a spanking fetish group called "The School", and so the erotica begins...
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual TransGender School Spanking Exhibitionism Voyeurism Size .
My name is Sarah and I am 28 years old, single, 5 feet 1 inch tall, with shoulder-length ash blonde hair, and I like to think I’m petite. I’m told that I look a bit like Felicity Kendal, but I can’t really see it.
Some years ago, I had a boyfriend who was into all sorts of kinky things when it came to sex. I went with him for about 9 months, and during that time, we experimented with a lot of different turn-ons, starting fairly tamely with a bit of light bondage and getting into exhibitionism, water sports, cross-dressing, all sorts.
Eventually, we split up, partly because he was going too far for me and trying to talk me into heavier and heavier S&M stuff and a “gangbang” with several of his mates, and I was starting to feel really used.
One of his kinks that I really enjoyed, though, was when I let him put me over his knee and spank my bottom. In fact, I liked it so much that we repeated this many times, but Rob seemed to get bored with this after a while and kept on about whips and chains and black leather and stuff.
What excited me most, though (to my surprise) was when, after a very long spanking from him, that I wanted to feel his hand on my bottom again. We went to a local pub and met up with all his mates.
About an hour and a half into the conversation, Rob had quite a bit to drink and suddenly told all his mates about how I liked him to spank me and had been pleading with him to put me over his knee just before we went out. I was mortified. Of course, I went very red as about six blokes of varying degrees of hunkiness started to take an enormous interest in my little perversion and asked questions and took the Mickey out of me.
On the way home, I started to realize that I was really turned on by being embarrassed. I don’t know why, but being the centre of attention (even if it was for all the wrong reasons) got to me in a big way. Although I told Rob off, I made up for it when we got back to my place.
Anyway, having dumped Rob and gotten over him, I started to miss the excitement of “naughty” sex. I had a range of boyfriends, some of whom I slept with, some I didn’t, but I never liked or trusted them enough to raise the subject with them.
Then, one day, I met Tim in the street. Tim was one of the lads who had been in the pub when Rob had told the world of my fetish. We started talking and he asked me out. We went to a quiet pub and, after a while, Tim carefully steered the conversation round to that night.
To cut a long story short, it turned out that Tim was a great spanking devotee and a member of what he called “The School”. He offered to introduce me and that’s how I came to spend Friday evenings being a schoolgirl again.
There are 14 pupils in the class, four girls, me, Karen, Liz, and Pat. Eight boys, Tim, Steve, Malcolm, Mark, John, Chris, and two Pauls. There are also two girls who are really boys (if you see what I mean). Their real names are Phil and David, but they are known as Lauren and Gemma.
We girls had a whale of a time at first teaching Phil and David how to dress, apply makeup, and generally act like women, but now they seem to have it pretty well sewn up, and Lauren especially looks very sexy in a dark, brooding way. We range in age from mid-twenties to Malcolm, who is in his late forties.
Each week, we assemble at the schoolmaster’s house. Mr. Darby is a tall, muscular man in his late 50s. He owns a large house on the edge of town with a very large garage/workshop. It is this that he had converted into a classroom for our activities. It is heated in winter and has a large blackboard in the front with a table on a low podium and a desk for each of us. The desks were built for school kids, so they are really a little small for us, but no matter. All around the walls are educational posters, the sort you see in classes around the world.
When we meet, we first change in Mr. Darby’s house, so we enter the classroom in our uniforms. For the girls, this consists of black patent shoes (no heels), white socks, a short, grey, pleated skirt, a white blouse with a red and gold striped tie, and a red blazer. Underwear consists of plain white pants and, in winter, a vest. Bras are not allowed, which causes a few problems for Liz, who has quite large boobs.
The boys wear a similar uniform except that they wear grey shorts and grey calf-length socks. Of course, Gemma and Lauren wear the girls’ uniform.
We always treat the class seriously and are there to study. We meet at 8:30 p.m. and class starts at 9, ending at 12 midnight. We treat the times as a.m. though, so we do a morning session through to lunch, including a mid-morning break.
Mr. Darby is very strict and does not hesitate to punish us if we do not do our work properly. Of course, that’s why we are all there, but it does add realism to our punishment, and you never really know when, or even if, you are going to be spanked or even caned for some misdemeanor.
Let me tell you about last Friday.
I always leave work at 4 o’clock on a Friday; we call it POETS day (Push Off Early Tomorrow’s Saturday). I got home about 4:30, changed into a nightie, and went to bed. The alarm woke me at 7, and I got up, washed, and dressed in my uniform, except for the socks, shoes, blazer, and tie, which I put into my “games” bag. I then had a bite to eat, put on my coat, and, picking up my satchel and bag, ran to my car and began the journey to school.
On the way, I called in for Tim. We are very lucky to live close to school; most of the others have to make quite long journeys. Tim got into the car wearing normal clothes, with a large bag. It is more difficult for the boys because walking around in part of their uniform is much more noticeable than for us girls.
We got to Mr. Darby’s house just before 8:30, but most of the others were already there. Once in the house, the boys and girls go into separate “cloakrooms” and change into school clothes. Phil and David join us girls, and from this point on, they are treated as girls. The boys are expressly forbidden to come near the girls’ cloakroom, but we know that sometimes they try and peek in, just like the boys did when we were kids. If we catch them, we always report them!
Once we had changed, we all congregated in a large courtyard at the back of the house, on the other side of which is the classroom. This is the playground, and we waited here for school to open, sometimes playing or talking and sometimes trying to finish off undone homework.
At 9, Mr. Darby opened the school door, and we entered in single file and stood behind our desks waiting to be told to sit down. Karen and I had been having a very interesting conversation while we were waiting outside, and, like idiots, we carried on whispering to each other in class. Our chat was suddenly interrupted by Mr. Darby shouting, “Karen, Sarah, come to the front of the class.”
Karen and I slowly slid out from behind our desks and walked to the front of the room, standing in front of Mr. Darby with our backs to the class. Mr. Darby stood very straight in his tweed suit and began to tell us off, asked us what we had been talking about that was so important (last night’s Eastenders), and told Karen to hold out her hand.
Mr. Darby reached over to his desk and picked up his ruler. He then lifted the ruler up and brought it down on Karen’s palm. There was a loud crack, and I saw a white stripe appear across Karen’s palm, which slowly turned bright pink, spreading from the outside in. Karen took a sharp breath, and her eyes closed briefly. Mr. Darby brought the ruler down twice more on her right palm and snapped “next”. Karen held out her left hand and received three stripes on that hand.
By this time, I had butterflies in the pit of my stomach and a strange feeling in my bottom.
“Hand!” Mr. Darby instructed me.
I saw the ruler fall in a blur and felt the sting as it hit my palm, which turned into a hot throb just as the ruler struck again. I felt my eyes start to water and the ruler hit me for the last time on my right palm. I changed hands without being told and received three more on my left hand. Once Mr. Darby had finished, he put the ruler back on the table and sent us both back to our desks, telling us all to sit down.
My hand felt as if it had sunburn, and I sat, fidgeting in my desk as I flexed my fingers back and forth to try and make the throb go away.
The first subject we were due to study was geography. We had been set a homework task to read a section of the textbook about industry in the Benelux countries. None of us were at all surprised when Mr. Darby announced that there was going to be a test. A question paper was handed out, and the test started. I had read the book as instructed, but it was so boring I wasn’t sure that it had all gone in.
I knew that if my results weren’t good enough, I would be punished and could even get a caning. When I read the questions, I felt a little happier and answered them in good time. When we had all finished, we swapped papers and, as Mr. Darby read out the answers, we marked each other’s papers. Once this was done, Mr. Darby asked for each person’s marks and wrote them in his book.
I had done well, with full marks, as had some of the others. Mark, however, had only answered one question correctly. It was obvious that he had not even read the book, and Mr. Darby called him to the front of the class, telling him that he was wasting the class’s time and giving him a real telling-off.
Mark is quite shy and was deep red by the time Mr. Darby had finished with him. After he had told him off, Mr. Darby reached for the whippy cane he keeps hung by the blackboard. Mr. Darby told Mark to undo his trousers. Mark undid the waistband of his shorts, unzipped the fly, and let them drop to his ankles.
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