The League of Spankists


spanking in a boxHer foot touched the bedroom floor with barely a sound as she stepped off the sill. She could just make out the shape of the woman on the bed. She was lying on her front only half-covered by the bed sheet. The curve of her naked bottom was stark even in the gloom. This time she thought, just one swat. She slipped out of the shadows and crept towards the bed. Just one more step and she would be there. The light came on.

“Hello Jilt.” Martha sighed.

“Damn.” Jilt punched at her thigh in frustration and groaned. “What gave me away this time?”

“Even if I hadn’t heard you a mile off I would have spotted you the moment you stepped out of the shadows.” Martha explained.

Jilt made a face as if she were sucking on a lemon. Martha fixed her apprentice with a hard stare and slowly got out of bed and stood before her apprentice in all her naked glory.

Jilt was half-a-head shorter than Martha and about 10 years younger. She was blonde, but she was no dummy, not usually anyway. Martha shook her head, causing her long dark hair to cascade down her back as she picked up the paddle.

“Oh.” Jilt groaned. But she turned around and dropped her leggings to ankles and bent right over without further comment.

Martha moved behind the girl and studied her full rounded bare bottom for a moment. There was no trace of the spanking Jilt had received earlier that month, I must be slipping, she thought.

“How long have you been an apprentice for the League?” Martha asked. It was a rhetorical question. Jilt had been under Martha’s tutelage for three years now.

The paddle bit in hard and Jilt grunted. It was a small slip, but it was another sign that she was not yet ready to be a journeyman in the League of Spankists. Martha watched as the red patch developed on Jilt’s bottom.

The next swat lifted the girl onto her toes with a heavy thwack. She made no sound although it took all her will. Martha placed four more swats in quick succession.

Martha paused for a reaction, but only Jilt’s rapid breathing betrayed any sign of distress on her part.

“You know my instructor used to paddle me every three days.” Martha said remembering. “Do you know why?”

“To make you a better spankist.” Jilt replied gasping.

Martha smiled at this. She cocked her head to examine the two deep red ovals printed on Jilt’s bare bottom.

“Perhaps. But she spanked me every three days because she could. Because it gave her pleasure.” Martha chuckled. “I don’t think I could sit down for the first two years of my instruction.”

Jilt didn’t speak. Anything she said would be wrong now.

“Do you know why she stopped spanking me after two years?”

“Yes ma’am.” Jilt sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You qualified after that.”

“Yes.” Martha agreed. “Maybe I should adopt the same the policy with you as a kind of incentive. One swat, one swat on my bonny behind and you get advanced. You can’t even do that.”

“No ma’am.”

The paddle struck again and then again with some anger. Martha walked around her protégé to regard her anguished face. By now it was dripping with tears, a grave faux pas and one that would earn her further sanction. Martha ran her finger across Jilt’s cheek and allowed a tear to hang from it.

“What happens on Saturday?” Martha whispered, allowing her disappointment to show.

“You are going to spank me again.” Jilt said sullenly.

“With a small audience this time I think.” Martha smiled glumly.

Jilt’s mouth opened in horror, but she dare not protest.

“Seven years at the academy and three years in the field with me, you must like being spanked.” Martha sighed. “You’re 26, time you could handle assignments alone.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jilt breathed.

Martha returned to the business end of her apprentice and delivered a rapid volley until Jilt broke. Then she spanked her over as if from the beginning for the breach of protocol.

“You’ll take the cane on Saturday as well I think.” Martha said firmly as she opened the large jar on her dressing table.

From the ceramic pot, she extracted freshly prepared ginger root. Then moving behind Jilt, she figged her gently. She did not see Jilt’s eyes turn saucer-like but she knew well what she was experiencing.

“Now you can do some corner time in the lobby, the concierge will enjoy that.” Martha said with relish. “Now get out.”

Jilt stood up stiffly her face inscribed with misery and half shuffled and half minced towards the door.


Martha had been a Journeyman with the League for more than 11 years now. In all that time, she had executed almost a 1000 contracts. One thousand deserving bottoms, and not a few undeserving ones probably, it was no concern of hers.

Back in the 22nd century, almost all murder had been eradicated. DNA, surveillance, truth drugs, had all but made getting away with it impossible. And yet there were some unforeseen consequences. Other crimes and social failures had escalated. Where once someone could simply kill a rival, it became so complicated.

Men could be directed to the arenas, which became popular. Deaths there were to be expected. Some women too chose this route. But for the others, the spoilt and the self-centred, they needed another remedy.

The spanking laws had been enacted to allow young women and those in early middle age between 18 and 80 to be spanked. Celebrity brats had to invest in high-security to keep their bottoms safe. This had given rise to professional agencies like the League to get to those hard to spank bottoms.

Over a hundred years later, the power of the League had grown so that no woman’s bottom was safe. Not in the castles of Europe or the towers of Mars colony.

Martha had become a bit of a legend so that her notoriety had spread even beyond spankist circles. Not that anyone knew what she looked like, she had so far avoided open celebrity; that would be the end of her career and sentence her to a life in hiding from the constant threat of retaliatory spankings from her many enemies.

That is why she was so hard on Jilt. A spankist could not afford to get caught once during the execution of a contract. One day she would understand.


Martha’s next job was Margo Kemp.

Margo was barely 40, but she was the hottest actress in Hollywood. Hot in every sense. Rumour had it that she had taken a contract out on her latest co-star after she got the guy Margo was after.

Ginger Lane was found in her hotel room by a host of journalist tied to her bed. Her bottom had looked like raw beef in the pictures. The sap had been left sobbing in the background while the TV reporter stood over and did her piece to camera live in Tri-D. The speculation was that Margo was behind it, but no one knew who had tipped off the media.

Martha had to conclude that since Margo was her next contract, someone was convinced enough to pay 100,000 credits for the deed. Ginger probably, not that she was ever told.

Margo lived in one of the condo towers on the island of California, a tough job. It had taken Martha four hours to climb the outer wall while keeping to the blind spot from the ‘eyes.’

Now she was in position. Rule number one no real damage or the cops would intervene. That was a cinch for Martha, a cute little rent-a-cop had put out with everything after a little bottom scorching. Not strictly legal, but Martha had read the girl right, she actually asked for a date after.

Margo was asleep when she gained the bedroom. This was where Jilt had gone wrong. One more step towards the bed and a stun drone would drop from the ceiling. Even the cop hadn’t known that, but Martha could spot a security configuration as obvious as that. Now where would a cute bimbo like Margo put the control? Martha’s eyes fell on the bracelet on the bedside table – a multi unit disguised as 10 grand watch.

It took Martha another minute to work around the room, then she rolled in one smooth motion and snatched at the control, hitting the shut down as she did so.

“Wha… what’s that.” Margo mumbled.

“Wake up sleepy head you have an account to pay.” Martha grinned.

Margo opened one eye and her mouth fell open. The look on her face was priceless – she actually gulped.

“Nothing public. Please.” She whimpered. “I’ll pay you anything.”

“That’s no longer up to you.” Martha shrugged.

Margo’s hands went to her statuesque bottom, the woman had one of the best figures in the business and Martha was enjoying the close-up.

Less than 200 years before a woman Margo’s age would have begun to struggle with her mortality, but just as Martha herself would have passed for being in her early 20s back then, Margo looked barely 25.


Margo was a snug fit over Martha’s knee. She had barely struggled as the thumb cuffs had gone on, but now she was squirming as the sole of her own carpet slipper stung her bottom for what may have been the two-hundredth time.

“Please.” She whimpered.

Although her bottom was thoroughly reddened, the spanking so far had been nothing, just love taps to humble her.

“We’re just warming up babe, we’ve got another half hour of this before we up the pace.” Martha smirked.

“Ooh.” Margo squealed as the slipper stung her again.

There was no chance they would be disturbed, the whole place was soundproofed enough for a rifle range, and once Martha had control of the apartment, it was a simple matter to tag the entry phone as ‘do not disturb.’

As promised the spanking lasted until well past the point that Margo could keep her dignity. With 15 minutes of slippering still to go, she had broken down sobbing.

“What are you going to do to me?” She whimpered as Martha switched to the hairbrush.

“Tell me were you behind that stunt with Ginger?” Martha asked out of sudden curiosity.

“Is that what this is about? I’m sorry alright, but she had it coming.”

“And so, my fine-bottomed friend, do you. Enjoy.” Martha was always amazed when the spankee thought she could negotiate.

The brush came down with a solid flick of the wrist and Margo gasped in surprise. This was a new level. The volley that followed left her floundering on Martha’s lap.

“No please this is… oh!” There was a sharp intake of breath as she realised that this was going to be hard to handle.


Margo had been in the corner for what was beginning to seem like her entire life. The spanking had been intense and she had given herself up to a good hard cry long before Martha had got anywhere near bringing her punishment to an end. She was quite sure that it would be days if not weeks before she could sit down.

A couple of times Margo had considered rebelling and giving this ‘assassin’ a piece of her mind, but the thumb cuffs rather limited her options and she had heard dreadful rumours about those who did not cooperate. These league people had ways and means she had heard.

The ache in her bottom was just about bearable now, although both her buttocks continued to throb like two great fists clenching and slightly unclenching as they pulsed.

“What are you going to do?” Margo asked meekly.

Martha didn’t answer but checked her watch. She glanced at Margo who had been in the corner for over an hour now, her displayed bottom was a polished dark red giving way to true purple in places.

Then the door buzzer went.

Margo’s heart jumped, maybe it was rescue, but did she really want anyone to see her like this? A few moments later Martha wheeled a huge crate into the room.

“Please what’s happening?” Margo asked nervously.

“Shush.” Martha soothed. “Nothing too awful. We are just going to a little charity soiree.”

Margo had a sinking feeling at this news. Then things got worse. She was taken from the corner and made to kneel on a small stool, which had been placed on the floor of the now open crate. Then Martha began painting her all over with a strange cold liquid.

It wasn’t altogether too unpleasant, especially as the soothing ooze began to be painted on her bottom. Also, when she got to her hands she removed the cuffs.

It was then that she realised that she couldn’t move. She tried to complain but her face was a mask.

“Don’t worry its not permanent.” Martha explained. “In a few hours you will be able to break free of it as if it were just wax. Meanwhile you will be like a perfect living statue. There is a calming drug incorporated in the mix and in a few minutes you will sleep. When you wake up you will be able to move and come back here if you want to.”

Then Martha stood back to study the artwork. Unless you knew the truth it appeared to be a perfect likeness of Margo Kemp the famous actor just after she had received a well-deserved spanking. The slight sheen of the chemical coat preserved the artificially reddened bottom and really brought it out to its best effect.


Margo awoke some time later. She could barely see, but there seemed to be a party going on around her. Then she remembered. She was naked and had so obviously recently been spanked. She realised that she was kneeling on a plinth in a public atrium.

“She’ll be furious when she sees it.” Said a voice.

“Yes.” Ginger replied enigmatically sucking in her cheeks a little.

Her eyes roamed over the statues perfect depiction of a well-spanked bottom.

“What a lovely joke.” There was more laughter.

Margo groaned inwardly. She realised that she could now move but if she did so then she would give herself away. There was nothing for it but to kneel there until the party was over and then try to make back to her apartment naked.

Ginger grinned as she wondered what Margo was thinking. It was going to be a long party and afterwards the TV rights to the security footage would be in high demand, although Ginger doubted if Margo had thought that far ahead.

2 Responses to “The League of Spankists”

  1. 1 anushree

    great story. very nice details. dj have you ever been spanked? and will you please tell me what happens in angela’s story after the two of them are spanked together

  2. 2 opsimath

    Another fine story of wrong-doing properly accounted for! I do like this site – thank you for all these wonderful and naughty diversions, Damian.

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