Other persistent fantasies involve role-play spankings of multiple miscreants. This is one flavor of those.
My friends, J and K, had eagerly agreed my suggested scene of them as a pair of college coeds whose professor - me - had caught them cheating during an exam. They now sat in two straight visitor chairs in front of my desk. “You two have violated the honor code and have given me little choice but to report you to the dean,” I scold.
“Please, sir! Isn’t there another way?” J pleads.
I look at their faces, trying to appear as contrite schoolgirls but belying their enthusiasm for the spanking they know is pending. “If you agree to corporal punishment instead, I could forego reporting your behavior. Will you accept a spanking,” I propose. Both girls nod their head in agreement. “I need to hear you accept a spanking,” I demand.
“Yes, sir. Please spank us,” they reply in unison.
The women are both clad in t-shirts and jeans - our agreed-upon collegiate outfit for today. Their attire is similar but their shapes are disparate. J is tall and curvaceous. She and I have been friends for years and K is J’s new friend and this is our first spanking session. K is short and very slender, almost waif like. “Both of you, remove your pants and panties,” I order. The two undress, K a bit hesitantly. J has presented her bare bottom to me many times and is not shy about exposure.
I turn a chair away from the desk and take a seat. “You’re first,” I say looking to J and she quickly puts herself over my knee. I spend a good five minutes covering her generous, soft bottom with swats until it is sufficiently warm and pink. The two switch places and I give K’s smaller, more taut ass a thorough spanking, as well. “Fetch the bottom burner,” I say looking at J. She knows which credenza drawer holds several spanking implements and retrieves a favorite of mine - a small cheek-to-cheek paddle I had crafted from oak. “Back over my knee, missy,” I order and she switches places with her friend. K watches anxiously as I wallop J’s bottom with the paddle, knowing that soon she will be the recipient. When it is her turn, K slowly approaches and then accepts her fate. She is initially still but soon is bucking and writhing. The discomfort is overcoming her tendency towards modesty, her legs no longer pinned together but now flailing and exposing her girl parts.
I pause and gently rub and massage K’s seared bottom before prompting her to stand. “One final component,” I announce and retrieve my school-principal-style paddle. J instinctively adopts the position for a school-themed paddling from me, bent over the desk, tightly gripping the opposite edge. I slowly apply six hard swats to her generous tush before looking to K. She reluctantly switches places with her friend. She flinches when I tap the oak board against her very sore cheeks and cries out loudly upon the first impact. By six, she is sobbing softly and when she rises, a tear runs down her cheek. She approaches me and softly says, “Thank you,” and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Approaching me that closely, it is certain she felt the prominent bulge in my pants. It takes every bit of resolve to not proposition the two for something even naughtier - and more messy - than pretending to cheat on a test.