Witch Hunter

Her legs were spent now and she wanted to turn and tell the witch to leave her alone, but her head was jumbled and her face was burning with the exertion and the embarrassment of her situation. She couldn’t get off with any dignity unless the machine was first stopped for her, so she just had to go on. It quickly became a cycle: trying to keep up, then flagging, then getting a cheek-wobbling smack that enlivened her again. She was being spanked, genuinely, for the first time in her life.

It was terrible and the panic was rushing through her, but her puss was getting so, so hot. She had the sudden thought that the woman had somehow read her mind, seen her fantasy of being beaten upon the bum. As Mimi sobbed and gibbered the girls openly laughed. The pace seemed to be getting faster all the time, although no one was touching the machine. Her leg muscles were burning as much as her rump, but still she went on, desperate for it to stop but unable to make this happen, perhaps not even wanting it to end.

She was on the point of collapse but the slaps were coming one after another, across both cheeks, driving her on. The pain was almost indiscernible now that her bottom was so numb, but the heat between her legs was ever more noticeable. She was so het up that she thought for one terrible moment she was actually going to climax uncontrollably from her panic and humiliation, right there in front of the class. Then suddenly the treadmill was slowing to a stop. She got off it but still held onto it for support, bent forward with exhaustion.

The tears were still on her flushed cheeks. Her mouth was open and a thin thread of viscous saliva was dangling from her lips. She was shaking. Her head wouldn’t clear and she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t need to. The witch moved in to her, so close she felt the crotch at her throbbing bottom and the breasts squashing against her back. She felt an arm come around her waist, a sneaky move on the blind side of the girls, the hand slipping down to jam between her thighs. One finger buried itself in her crotch and pressed hard, magically finding her clit as it pulsed against the constraining denim. She almost collapsed but the woman held her up.

She could feel breath in her ear. The witch was going to say something comforting to her, something loving. That’s what happened in her fantasies. Miss Morgana would whisper that it was all right to be turned on by torture and public sexual humiliation. She would say something to the watching girls that made this whole bizarre episode OK. She would absolve Mimi of any guilt, explaining the squeals as something other than the joy of being openly spanked.

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