Butter Wouldn't Melt by Penny Birch Page A

my bottom, which I didn’t rebuff.
    My heart was beating fast as I entered my tiny room, and I was biting my lip for a moment before I managed to stop myself, trying to look composed as I awaited my punishment. She drew a key from her bag and quickly locked the door. For all my attempt at calm I felt very small indeed, and tried to be brave, speaking in an effort to show that I wasn’t quite the pathetic little creature she assumed.
    â€˜How do you want me, over your knee I suppose?’
    I’d put on my best sassy voice, but she answered quite casually.
    â€˜No, climb onto your desk and lie on your back, as if you were ready to have your nappy changed.’
    All my efforts to appear cool and sophisticated collapsed in humiliation and the first words to enter my head spilt from my mouth.
    â€˜I don’t wear a nappy!’
    â€˜No, but that should give you an extra little something to think about while your bottom is smacked.’
    She was right. I was pouting furiously and quite unable to stop myself as I climbed onto the desk. It wasn’t a position I’d been punished in before, but I could quite imagine how shameful it would be, with everything showing, while the thought of being made to wear a nappy and having it changed had inevitably got stuck in my head.
    Determined at least to deprive her of the pleasure of exposing me, I began to tug my own skirt up, only to have a finger wagged in my face.
    â€˜Oh no you don’t,’ she warned. ‘I’ll get you ready. Now on your back you go.’
    I went, turning over and lifting my knees as I knew I should. Even dressed, my bottom felt prominentand vulnerable, and Miss Phelps was smiling as she eyed the shape I made under my skirt.
    â€˜I’m going to enjoy this,’ she said, taking hold of the hem of my skirt. ‘It’s been quite a while since I spanked a young one like you.’
    She began to draw my skirt down my thighs, deliberately slowly. Her eyes were fixed on my legs as she exposed me, and when the tops of my stay-ups came on show she gave a nod of satisfaction and spoke again.
    â€˜I see you wear stockings. Sensible girl. Aren’t tights horrid?’
    I managed a nod, unable to speak for the lump in my throat. She could now see right up my skirt, to where the bulge of my sex was hidden by my knickers, my embarrassingly wet knickers. Her eyebrows lifted in amusement as she saw.
    â€˜Wet already? Quite the little slut, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘Lift your bottom, darling.’
    My obedience was automatic, and as I raised myself from the table she quickly pushed my skirt up over my hips, leaving my knickers on full show. Ever since my first spanking I’d been taught to associate a particular style of underwear with punishment, plain white, full-cut knickers, which was what I had on. Just knowing I was wearing them could be enough to turn me on, and Miss Phelps seemed to share my taste.
    â€˜Spanking panties?’ she remarked. ‘What a good girl you are.’
    She stepped back a little, admiring the view of my thighs and bottom, no longer hidden by my skirt but bare save for where the taut white cotton of my knickers covered my most intimate secrets. It was a thoroughly ridiculous pose, and as she took hold of my ankles I thought of what she’d said about it beingthe way I’d lie if I was having my nappy changed. Given the amount of modesty I was going to be allowed to keep, I might as well have been.
    â€˜Let’s have those panties down then, shall we?’ she said, her voice full of smug amusement as she took hold of me by the seat of my knickers.
    One good jerk and they’d been pulled out from under my body. Another and my bum crease was showing. A third and they were around my thighs, exposing my spread bottom hole and the wet tart of my pussy. A hard sob escaped my lips as I was laid bare, and she gave a soft chuckle as she twisted her hand into my knickers,