Continued from Episode 1: Spanking Honeymoon

Spanking Soap

Series 2

Episode 2: The Campus Creeper

By Flatfish

Jennifer Perry left the student union bar and made her way across the quiet moonlit campus towards the accommodation block. There seemed to be no one around but she had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching. She broke into a jog as fear started to overtake her. She would have liked to have stayed in the bar with her friends but she had already been called into the Dean’s office once this week for a roasting after her grades had taken a dramatic drop, so she had to get back to her room and work on her latest assignment. She reached the building and with a sigh of relief she pushed her way through the double glass doors into the well lit foyer. Once inside, she relaxed a little. 

She thought back to her meeting earlier with the Dean and smiled naughtily. That poor sap, she thought. He’d nearly burst a blood vessel shouting at her and she had just smiled and looked straight through him - what a loser. Jennifer didn’t have long to enjoy her amusement as a second later the foyer was plunged into darkness. She started to curse angrily but her voice was quickly stifled as a strong arm encircled her body and a damp cloth was pressed to her face. She choked briefly on the strong chemical smell and the world began to spin. As blackness overtook her she collapsed like a rag doll into the arms of her assailant. 

When she awoke, Jennifer found she couldn’t move. She was disorientated and couldn’t understand what was holding her down but as the world came into focus her situation became terrifyingly clear. She was in one of the college classrooms. She was bent over a table and her hands had been tied together and pulled out in front of her. The rope from her wrists tethered her to the table. A broad strip of tape covered her mouth. She knew by the cool breeze that her skinny jeans had been yanked down and were wrapped around her ankles. At first she thought she was alone but a quiet sound behind her soon revealed she wasn’t so lucky. 

The mysterious assailant strolled menacingly to the front of the classroom. Jennifer stared terrified at the individual whose face was hidden within a balaclava and whose thickset body was wrapped in dark clothes. Despite the heavy disguise, Jennifer had the distinct impression her attacker was a woman. There was a hint of makeup on those angry staring eyes and a suggestion of feminine curves. Jennifer’s own eyes opened wide with panic when she realised her captor was tapping a vicious looking punishment paddle threateningly against her thigh. Jennifer shook her head pleadingly and yanked on her rope in a futile attempt to free herself as the frightening truth of her hopeless predicament became clear. It was now apparent why she was bent over a table, why her jeans had been pulled down and why her bottom was so ideally placed for punishment. 

Without a word the assailant took up a position behind and to the side of the bound student and looked at the soft round bottom before her – protected only by brief cotton panties, pale yellow with little teddy bear motifs. For a brief moment the attacker remembered how her own bottom had been equally perfectly proportioned in her youth and the wave of envy convinced her even more that this brat deserved a damn good spanking. 

Jennifer frantically struggled with the rope but it only seemed to tighten on her wrists. She wailed behind her gag but there was no way to free herself. She managed to look back over her shoulder in time to see her attacker raise the paddle, then it flashed down and smacked against her semi-naked bottom igniting an unbearable fire. Jennifer arched her back and her eyes bulged. Only the gag suppressed her frantic howl. A second smack landed in quick succession and a third quickly followed. Jennifer kicked her legs wildly sending her jeans flying into the face of the spanker. This seemed to incense her attacker and brought an even fiercer barrage of stinging whacks against her rapidly reddening bottom. Not satisfied that Jennifer had been sufficiently punished, the attacker grabbed the waistband of her panties and dragged them down then continued to whack her porcelain flesh to a deep scarlet. 

By the time campus security arrived to check on why the classroom lights were still blazing, the mysterious attacker was gone. 

One week later, detective constable Pamela Ross spread three case files out on the bed in her room in the student accommodation block, looking for a pattern. Each file told how the mysterious assailant, who the newspapers had now named the Campus Creeper, had attacked female students in the night. Pamela had been fast-tracked out of uniform division into undercover work because of her special suitability to this case. She had hoped to become a detective on the strength of her excellent work as a WPC and would surely have made it eventually but some of her other qualities had brought her into the spotlight for the Campus Creeper case. The Detective Inspector in charge had wanted a female police officer to act as bate to draw the attacker out into the open. So far the Creeper had always targeted beautiful young female students and there was no denying that Pamela fit that profile very well. Secondly the Creeper had so far limited the nature of each attack to dragging the girls away to a secluded spot and giving them a very sound spanking. Pamela was well known for her spectacularly attractive bottom - a feature that had earned her the nickname WPC Rear of the Year from her sexist male colleagues and this above all else had made her the leading candidate for the role of temptingly spankable student. Yet she had walked the campus grounds for three consecutive nights while a colleague discreetly watched from a distance and there had been no attack, in fact no sign of the Creeper at all. 

As Pamela studied her files, a student, Sharon Thompson, alone in her room in a neighbouring student block, prepared for a shower. She stripped and wrapped a towel around herself then crossed the corridor to the communal bathroom. She switched on her waterproof radio and as she sang and swayed along with the music she set the shower running, hung up her towel and stepped into steaming spray. 

With the loud music and the noise of the shower drowning out everything else, Sharon failed to hear the bathroom door slowly opening, and she didn’t notice the hand that reached in behind her and unhooked the bath brush. She finished her shower and turned off the water. She wrapped a towel around her long blond hair and another around her curvaceous body and headed back to her room. She had just pushed open the door when a strong hand hit her between the shoulder blades and sent her flying forwards. She stumbled across the floor and was sent sprawling face down across her bed. Before she could recover the Campus Creeper followed her into the room and slammed the door shut. 

Sharon started to turn over but she was forced back into position as the heavy assailant pinned her to the bed. Before she could scream, a broad strip of tape was forced over her mouth. She writhed and twisted but she was no match for the Creeper. Her towel was dragged away and flung onto the floor leaving her damp body naked and vulnerable. A second later a searing blaze scorched her bare bottom as the Creeper began to spank her hard and fast with the bath brush. 

Sharon kicked her feet and fought and struggled but the spanking was relentless. Her bottom quickly turned a fierce red. She tried to reach back to protect her tortured cheeks but her hand was swiftly brushed aside. Suddenly, a flailing arm caught the Creeper a side blow to the head and in that brief stunned second Sharon managed to twist free. She scrambled out from under her attacker and ran for the door.  She chanced a brief and tearful look back then disappeared naked down the corridor. By the time she timidly returned with a mob of angry students the Creeper had vanished. 

Two days later, George Walker sat in his private office in the college admin suite. As Dean of Students it was often his distasteful task to berate students for laziness or behaviour that would bring the name of the college into disrepute so privacy was important. In an outer office Margaret Brown, the Dean’s formidable secretary kept the Dean free from unwanted visitors. She sat at her desk and appraised the student before her. 

“The Dean is busy,” she stated, giving the student an icy stare. “You will have to make an appointment. I believe we can fit you in on Thursday.” 

DC Pamela Ross was still undercover, so the secretary had no reason to suspect she was anything but another student. But the detective had good reason to see the Dean immediately. The secretary could have allowed her through but she found Pamela’s attitude irritating. She was used to her muscular build and aggressive nature intimidating the Dean’s visitors. This student was far too self-assured. 

“It is essential that I see the Dean now,” insisted Pamela, moving towards the Dean’s office door. 

Margaret Brown could not believe the girl’s defiance and she leapt to her feet in furious protest when Pamela pushed on through and let herself into the Dean’s office. 

Dean Walker looked up from the papers on his desk as Pamela burst into the room. She was rapidly followed by the Dean’s irate secretary. 

“What the Devil’s going on?” he exclaimed. 

“I’m terribly sorry sir,” said the secretary. “This young madam just barged past me.” 

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” said the Dean when he realised it was DC Ross. “I’ll see her now.” 

For a moment Margaret Brown was speechless. She couldn’t comprehend that the Dean hadn’t backed her up and thrown this arrogant young student out immediately. With an offended sniff she turned sharply and marched out of the office.  

“You really don’t want to get on the wrong side of Margaret,” said the Dean. “She’s a former captain of the British women’s rugby team.” 

Pamela smiled and took a seat. 

“Have you made any progress with the case?” asked the Dean. 

“I believe I have,” Pamela answered, giving the Dean an odd look that made him feel rather uncomfortable. “I think I’m very close to making an arrest. You know of course that my task is to identify who has means, motive and opportunity.” 

“Indeed” said the Dean. 

Pamela threw the case files of the four victims onto the Dean’s desk, “The first and most obvious observation,” she said, “is that the offender clearly has access to every part of the college. That narrows the list of suspects somewhat. It even appears that the chloroform used in the first two attacks was stolen from a locked cabinet in one of the science labs.” 

The Dean looked uneasy and swallowed nervously. 

“The second observation comes from the student records. It seems that every one of the victims was in this office only days before being attacked. They were in trouble for a variety of offences. A fact that you omitted to mention Dean!” 

“I…I really don’t see how that is relevant,” stuttered the Dean. “What are you trying to imply?” 

“I’m not trying to imply anything,” said Pamela. “I’m stating the very clear facts that the one person who clearly had the means and motive to spank those young women is you, Dean Walker. You are my number one suspect and unless you have a really good alibi for the nights in question I will be taking you down to the station.” 

George Walker leapt to his feet, shaking with anger and red in the face. “Might I point out,” he shouted, “that the Campus Creeper has been identified as a woman.” 

“That is an easy disguise to adopt,” answered Pamela calmly. “So would you care to tell me where you were on each of the nights in question?” 

The Dean snorted and sat down. He called for Margaret to bring in his diary. She appeared a moment later. When she saw the Dean’s clear agitation she became even more incensed with Pamela. She handed over the diary and stood back as if she felt the need to stay and protect the Dean. Walker flicked through the pages and identified each of the dates. For the first three he could only say he was at home with his wife and she would corroborate the fact. But when he came to the last date his face lit up and he triumphantly announced that he had been giving a speech to local business people at a fund raising dinner – He was off the hook. 

Pamela gathered up the files and thanked the Dean for his cooperation. The secretary was somewhat puzzled by the conversation which seemed inappropriate for a student but she said nothing as she watched Pamela leave the office. 

As Pamela closed the door, Margaret turned to Walker. “You shouldn’t let these young girls upset you so much Dean,” she said.  “That girl is clearly another one who would benefit from a good hard lesson across someone’s knee.” 

Pamela returned to her room, lost in thought. She had been convinced that Dean Walker was the Campus Creeper. Where could she go from here? She studied and re-studied the victim files for the rest of the afternoon but the road always led back to Dean Walker. Evening came and she needed some fresh air to clear her head. She changed into her running gear; brief stretch shorts and a tee shirt. She pulled on a hooded tracksuit top and set off for a run. It was only after she had been out on the road for a while that she realised her mistake. She hadn’t told her backup that she was leaving. If the Campus Creeper struck tonight, she would be on her own. 

Margaret Brown was just about to climb into her car when Pamela ran past. She gazed after her, noting the way her bottom peeked from her disgracefully short shorts. This was too good an opportunity to miss. She returned to her office and grabbed the Dean’s spare keys. Taking care not to be seen she disappeared down to her hideout in the boiler room to change once again into the Campus Creeper. 

As Pamela ran back towards her accommodation block she passed along a narrow wooded footpath. Some of the campus lights were out and as she reached the darkest part she didn’t notice a fishing line stretched across the path at ankle height.  A second later she tripped and was sent sprawling full length along the ground. The wind was knocked out of her and she grazed her knee and hurt her hands as they slapped against the floor but other than that she was unhurt. She was just about to climb to her feet when the Campus Creeper leapt from the bushes, pinning her down. She had no time to struggle free before chloroform was pressed to her mouth and nose and unconsciousness swept over her. 

When Pamela awoke, she was laying on a pile of dirty sacks in the old boiler room. Her head was spinning and she felt as though her arms and legs were lead weights. She struggled onto her hands and knees, groaning as her head throbbed. She was just starting to climb unsteadily to her feet when a strong arm grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground. In a second the Creeper had sat down on a bench and hauled the protesting detective over her knee. 

Margaret Brown was extremely strong and quite insane. Her obsession with looking after the Dean had driven her to stalking and attacking those who caused him distress. She found this latest student particularly deserving of a long hard spanking. Yes indeed, it would be quite some time before this young lady would be able to sit again. 

“Let me go!” screamed Pamela as she writhed under the Creeper’s firm grip. 

“Don’t waste your breath hissed the creeper. “This boiler room is pretty much soundproof.” 

The Campus Creeper looked down at Pamela’s tempting bottom. She really was very angry with this girl. With the others she had been careful to protect her identity but her growing mania and fury over Pamela’s behaviour was driving her to take chances. She had already risked speaking and now she set about pulling off her gloves while still holding down the struggling detective. She really wanted to get her bare hands on this brat. 

As her victim struggled and protested the Creeper raised a large hand and slapped it down hard, catching the bare flesh of Pamela’s bottom where her soft cheeks peeked from her running shorts. She was delighted with the resulting vivid red handprint, which was made all the more satisfying by Pamela’s tearful scream. 

Pamela kicked and fought but without success. The Creeper’s grip was unbreakable. A dozen stinging smacks landed in quick succession raising an unbearable fire in her bottom. 

“Let me go now!” howled Pamela. “You are making a big mistake. I’m a police officer and it will go a lot better for you in court if you come quietly.” 

The Creeper stopped in mid spank. Pamela’s words had clearly made an impact. But it was not the impact that she intended. Sniffling, Pamela tried to push herself off the Creeper’s knee. But instead of releasing her, the angry attacker tightened her grip and grabbed the waistband of Pamela’s shorts. 

“W…what are you doing?” Pamela wailed. 

“You deceitful young trollop,” said the Creeper. “How dare you lie to me?” 

Pamela’s shorts and panties were dragged painfully over her sore bottom and down to the middle of her thighs. As if out of nowhere, the Creeper produced her vicious punishment paddle and rested the cold hard wood against the exposed tender hot flesh. 

“Nooo! Pleeez!” begged Pamela writhing and kicking frantically, but her pleading fell on deaf ears. Taking a deep breath and powering from her shoulder, the Campus Creeper delivered the ferocious, merciless spanking that her insane anger demanded. By the time she had finished, Pamela’s entire bottom was a blazing hot red and she was bawling so hard she could barely breath. 

Margaret Brown, the Campus Creeper, looked with satisfaction at the results of her handiwork. It was pretty clear that the brat had been taught a valuable lesson. But was that lesson enough? No! she thought. That’s not nearly enough. 

She released Pamela and let her roll to the floor where she simply lay crying and gently holding her stinging bottom. Margaret went in search of a new punishment implement. She picked up a riding crop that she had been planning to use on her next victim. But when she returned, Pamela was gone. 

Margaret ripped off her balaclava and looked frantically around. She threw down the riding crop, shaking with fury. 

“Margaret Brown,” said a voice behind her. “I knew it had to be you. You are under arrest.” 

Margaret turned slowly. A grin spread across her face when she saw Pamela. “How nice of you to stay, Miss Ross,” she said. She glanced down at the riding crop lying at her feet. With surprising agility for a woman of her size and age she swept down and scooped it up but before she could straighten, Pamela ran forward and sent a flying kick that caught the big woman under the chin. The blow nearly lifted Margaret’s head of her shoulders. She stood for a moment and blinked. Then her legs buckled and she collapsed in a heap. 

The next day Pamela stood in the Dean’s office. The Campus Creeper was safely locked up. The Dean seemed stunned and somewhat embarrassed that the attacker had been his own secretary. Pamela produced a piece of paper and placed it on the Dean’s desk. 

“This was found in Margaret Brown’s drawer,” she said. “It lists her victims. They are all girls who caused you distress. I think you may be surprised by the last name on the list. It’s the name of the girl she was going to attack next.” 

George Walker looked at the paper and read the name. He looked up at Pamela and raised his eyebrows. “I think It’s a shame you caught Margaret when you did,” he said with a note of regret. “If there is one person on this list who truly deserves a damn good spanking its my cheating wife.” 

Pamela said nothing, but she had the uneasy feeling that the Campus Creeper had planted a seed in the mind of George Walker; a seed that would soon result in a very sound spanking for his twenty five year old wife – Stephanie. 


Continued in Episode 2.3: The Cheating Wife