“Oh yes, Sir, more than anything, I want Mr. Jones-Smyth to witness my humiliation.” In a trance, hands removed my uniform; unresisting, I bent forward over two laps so my stomach was wedged between them. They sat on facing chairs, knees touching, while my bared bottom rudely thrust up like a scone to four hands roaming. I rested my cheek on my forearms as they commenced my richly deserved spanking. Oh, I mewled most prettily for my chastisers, writhing my hips, fluttering my dainty ankles in faux distress. Have you ever wanted to be spanked all-day? I melted from within.

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