Tiny Spanking Story 2026 #1

It’s October 1st! I am going to attempt to bring my challenge back to life from last year and write a short story, poem, vignette, etc every day. We’ll start with a slightly formalized vignette version that I originally wrote about on Fetlife with a photo of this Harrods shop clothes brush I found on eBay…

I imagine this brush being applied to unruly boys who don’t want to try on suits for a summer wedding.

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Mummy was exhausted, hot, and tired of arguing, so she simply grabbed the suit brush, caught Henry with his trousers off, put her foot on the bench in the changing room, neatly tumbled his lanky form across her knee, and smacked his bottom with it until he was sniffling and much more compliant.

Being a teenager, this was very embarrassing for Henry, who tried to keep his cries to a minimum. It was no use, the fitting room attendant and everyone within the men’s department heard his bottom smacking and the tongue lashing Mummy delivered along with it.

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Visit the Fetlife link above to see the original thought and the brush in question! My comments section and inbox are open to prompts and story ideas.

-M

Tiny Spanking Story #29

I didn’t forget! I’ve just spent the day exploring Amsterdam! It’s drizzling, and this popped into my head.

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The rain isn’t heavy but it’s sharp against the window because it’s cold and windy. Luckily, there’s a window nearby and the sound begins to lull her into a quiet, focused, state, which is perfect for corner time.

She’s been given a ten minute reprieve to digest her dinner, the dinner she had forgotten to eat, after a day of forgetting to eat. She won’t forget to eat tomorrow, because apparently, her bottom is going to be too sore for her to forget.

When she’s called out, she whimpers at the sight of the small, round, heavy wood paddle on the stool in the middle of the room. She’s not even going to get the comfort of his lap this time. Bending over the stool requires tippy toes to reach the other side and by the time she’s settled, her bottom and thighs are taut and the butterflies in her stomach are in a tornado.

A cold, hard, paddling. He’s not gentle either. He gives her barely any time in between each of the 36 swats and by 10, she’s crying out and begging. By 15, tears are freely falling, and by the end, her bottom is bruised and achey and she desperately needs a tissue.

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Just a little thing. And hey! Not a hairbrush!

-M

Tiny Spanking Story #11

This is actually, hopefully? the start to a slightly longer story, but this opening paragraph really gets me!

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Ellia was already near tears. A timer sat in front of her, the neon digital 2:00 shining into her eyes. This wasn’t just going to be any spanking, it was a punishment spanking. A proper one. One she’d asked for. Knew she needed. Her bottom was already bare across his lap, clenching in anxious anticipation, the sturdy back of her ebony hairbrush resting on her right cheek.

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With any luck, the bug will find me and I’ll finish the longer piece this is from.

Also, this is my 100th post on the blog! That’s a crazy milestone to me. I feel like I ought to do something to celebrate, but I can’t think of what. Thanks for continuing to read what I am writing. Connecting with even one person or knowing someone relates to something I’ve written, makes all the work and vulnerability worth it. Any suggestions for a good way to celebrate? A giveaway? A treat?

-M