Saturday, January 20, 2007

"Family Circle" (M/m, M/f)

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© Guyspencer 2010

The King family was a very ordinary family of six living in a medium-sized Southern town. If you knew them, you would think of them as fairly religious, and you would probably be envious of the loving, closely-knit style of life that the parents, Jan and Jeff King, cultivated for their family. One of the key customs that the couple maintained to keep the family close together and the household operating efficiently was the “Family Circle”. Although different times were tried over the years, the best time for “Family Circle” seemed to be every Sunday, shortly after the family returned from morning service, because the entire family always went to church together and this was the one time that they could guarantee that every family member would be present. The family normally returned from morning service, changed out of their church clothes, and then, without being told, met in the living room for Family Circle.

“Family Circle” always started out with a short devotional, and then a lively discussion of family matters usually developed. This was a time for the entire family to work together to allocate chores, air grievances, plan family outings and vacations, give recognition of the children’s good deeds, and dispose of all manner of family business. The family would sit in a large circle, usually with the three youngest children on the couch, Sally (the oldest) in the easy chair, and the two parents (Jim and June King) in armless chairs borrowed from the dining room.

If you were a fly on the wall at a typical “Family Circle” meeting, you would probably notice that some of the King children showed up in street clothes and others in pajamas. At first this difference would not seem important, but towards the end of the discussion of family business, you might see one or two of the King children fall particularly silent, or perhaps look at any implements that might be lying on the coffee table and squirm nervously. If there happened to be a hairbrush or perhaps an old belt lying on the table, you would probably notice one of the children looking particularly concerned, perhaps even in tears.

If you were a particularly discerning fly, you would probably guess correctly that “Family Circle” was also “Punishment Circle” for any of the King children that had ran afoul of their very fair household rules over the previous week.

When all of the discussion had finally wound down, all four King children would fall silent and look expectantly at their parents. Mr. King would finally designate one child to “go get the calendar”. On that calendar, in the children’s own hand, would be any of their minor offenses committed over the last week, each offense would have a number next to it assigned by a parent. The parents called this number “demerits”, but the King children thought of it as simply “swats”. Demerits were disposed of by one swat on the bare bottom for each, or (at the parent’s option) one hard swat with a hairbrush for each five demerits.

After clearing any demerits that the King children had happened to earn, the parent’s attention was then directed at any of the children who happened to have earned a spanking. Spankings were given in front of the entire family with the pajama bottoms removed (no underwear was allowed under the pajamas) and were normally given with the hand, but a hairbrush spanking was possible.

Rarely (very rarely) one of the King children would have committed one of the special offenses for which the family’s ultimate punishment was prescribed, a whipping with the family’s spanking belt. This was always done last, and, in keeping with the more serious nature of the offense and punishment, was always done with the offender nude.

It should have be noted that the King’s would have preferred to spank their children privately, but there was one overriding factor that argued for the entire family to be present; all of the children received the benefit of the lesson involved in each spanking with only one of them actually feeling any pain. In other words, the Kings figured that each child would receive fewer spankings if they were allowed to learn from the errors of their siblings by witnessing each other’s punishments. For them, this strategy seemed to work. Often the Kings enjoyed several weeks of “Family Circles” before one was marred by a spanking or whipping. Demerits, on the other hand, were much more common and it was a rare week where there was not at least one child who did not have to lower the back of his or her pajamas and bend over a parental lap to dispose of his or her weekly accumulation of demerits that had been recorded on the kitchen calendar.

There was one particular “Family Circle” that would stay on the entire family’s memory for a long-long time. Sally, the family’s oldest child, was an energetic, good-looking, intelligent girl who singularly seemed to have learned to live almost perfectly within the King family rules. In fact, it had been nearly a year since the girl’s name had been on the demerit calendar, and nobody could even remember her last actual spanking. Sally’s mother and father both talked often about what a pleasure it was to have such a trouble-free daughter; but because of her excellent record, they were perhaps a bit too quick to grant the high-school senior new privileges.

It was Friday night and Sally had been given permission to go out with a group of her friends. Later, that evening, the parents were shocked and concerned when their daughter did not return home by her midnight deadline. At nearly 2AM, the couple was just about to start calling Sally’s friend’s homes when Sally finally appeared. After listening politely to a rather lame excuse, they were telling her how disappointed they were that she did not even think to call them, when Mrs. King noticed the heavy smell of peppermint on her daughter’s breath. Thinking that was really odd because Sally was known to hate peppermint, June sniffed more carefully and noted the distinct odor of beer under the cloying peppermint smell. “Sally Wray King!” She said sternly, “I can’t believe it, you have been drinking beer!” The girls face collapsed into tears, and the parents knew immediately that it must be true. “And you tried to cover it up with the peppermint didn’t you?” Jeff King (Sally’s father) accused. Mr. King’s answer came in the form of a torrent of teenaged, feminine tears. Choking back the angry words that almost bubbled out, the father finally said, “Right now I think we all need to go to bed, but the three of us are going to have a long talk in the morning young lady.” Sally choked out a barely coherent apology, tearfully hugged her disappointed and angry parents, and fled to the sanctuary of her bedroom.

The next morning, June had to nearly drag her daughter out of her bedroom for breakfast. Later, Sally was summoned into her parent’s bedroom for the promised “talk”. “First of all, your ‘excuse’ is flimsy nonsense young lady”, June started, “even if you couldn’t get someone to take you home, there no reason why you couldn’t have called us, your father and I are always happy to pick you up, even at midnight.” “Yes Mommy” Sally agreed, “I don’t know what got into my head.” “I think your mother and I agree that it was alcohol that got into your head”, scolded Mr. King, “not only did you ignore one of our strictest rules, you broke the law! Possession of alcohol by a minor is a crime in this state, and that is just one of the reasons why we have forbidden you to drink.” “What do you have to say for yourself young lady?” Naturally, there was nothing for Sally to say in her own defense. “I am so sorry,” she blubbered.

“OK Sally,” Mr. King continued, “tell us what the punishment is for drinking alcohol.” Sally spoke so low that her parents could barely hear; “the belt” she said. “That is right,” Sally’s mother bore in, “but we aren’t done yet. Tell us the difference between lying to your parents and trying to deceive your parents.” Sally looked at her mother uncomprehendingly, “what?” she said. Mr. King rephrased the question, “What is the difference between lying and deceit?” “Ummm, I guess I don’t know” Sally finally responded. “The reason you don’t know is because there really is no difference”, June King responded, “They are just different shades of the same thing.” Sally look quizzically at her mother, still not sure where this conversation was going. June soon made things clear; “when you used that peppermint to try to cover the smell of the beer so we wouldn’t notice, weren’t you trying to deceive your parents?” “I’m sorry about that mom, really I am.” Sally implored. “Oh you are going to be much sorrier young lady”, June replied, “Remember when we agreed that lying and deceit were the same thing?” Sally did not actually remember agreeing, but now she was horrified to understand exactly where this conversation was going; “No Mommy, I didn’t mean to lie to you.” Sally sobbed. “Oh yes you did young lady, and you planned it all in advance, but you got caught.”

“Sally, ” Mr. King said almost gently. “I know that you are not used to being in trouble, and perhaps all of this is moving a bit fast for you. Should we leave you by yourself for a few minutes and let you think everything through?” “I’m OK daddy, really”, she implored, “I know I did wrong and I want to get this over with.” “OK then honey let’s continue, please tell your parents what the punishment for lying to us is?” Sally’s mouth flew open, “You can’t! I am already going to get the belt. Please don’t whip me twice! She sobbed. “You are getting ahead of us Sally” Jeff said patiently, “tell us what the penalty for deliberately lying to your parents is; we have always made it perfectly clear.” Sally could barely get the words out; she looked down at the floor, hoping it would swallow her up. “A whipping with the belt” she finally said.

“That is exactly right honey,” the father said gently. “If we were to give you two whippings would that be unfair of us?” “No, I guess not.” Sally admitted reluctantly. “There is also the matter of you being two hours late and not even bothering to call us. Your mother and I haven’t even talked about it, but that should be good for either a bunch of demerits or a good spanking; don’t you think? Sally looked down at the floor, “Yes sir” she finally said heavily. “Well your mother and I have already talked about it, and three punishments is not what we have in mind,” Jeff announced, “We are willing to just give you one whipping, but we will expect you to take full responsibility for your actions. You will be receiving an extra hard whipping tomorrow at Family Circle and we expect you to cooperate with your punishment to the very best of your ability. Sally found herself nodding, almost eagerly agreeing to a thrashing she knew she would feel for days. The three went on to discuss Sally’s role in tomorrow’s Family Circle.

Sally spent most of that Saturday in her room. Like a bad tune that you can’t get out of your head, the language of corporal punishment kept running through her head, especially the King family’s penultimate punishment word, “whipping”. Her! Getting a whipping? Why couldn’t it merely be a hard spanking? Then she re-ran her “talk” with her parents through her head for the umpteenth time and realized to her horror that “whipping” was not quite correct; actually her father had said “extra hard whipping”. Like a painful but loose tooth that you can’t stop moving with your tongue, Sally just couldn’t let the subject go. The sad girl remembered the family’s last whipping. It has been last winter. She remembered Billy sprawled over the easy chair’s arms, buck naked, bawling at the top of his lungs, his bottom striped and crimson. More specifically, she remembered the unique view that she had had of the back side of her brother’s “male part” and of his little pucker hole as his legs kicked and splayed in reaction to the blows from that nasty belt. Tomorrow, it would be her naked across that same chair. Could she manage to keep her knees together throughout the entire performance? In her heart, she knew it would be impossible. There was no part of her that her siblings would not see tomorrow. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she would be bawling like a baby through the whole thing! Alone In her room, Sally bared her bottom in front of the mirror and tried to imagine it looking like Billy’s bottom had looked; then she tried to imagine how it would feel after the belt had done its work; then she cried once again.

Her two brothers were too oblivious to notice that Sally was acting unusually subdued, but Jane, Sally’s little sister noticed right away. “What’s the matter Sally?” she asked, when she found her sister gently sobbing in her room. “I’m going to get a whipping” Sally sobbed. “That’s not fair” Jane said. Red and wet-eyed, Sally looked up questioningly at her sister; “Not fair why? You don’t even know what I did.” “You’re too old to get spanked” Jane replied. “I wish that were true,” Sally said thoughtfully, but mom and dad are head of the family and we all have to live by their rules as long as we live here.” “But you are grown up and have breasts and everything. They’re not going to make you get naked are they?” Jane inquired. “I’m afraid so Jane, but I did something really bad and when you hear about it, you’ll know I deserve the whipping you are going to see me get.” “What did you do?” “You will hear all about it tomorrow at family circle just before I ’get it’” Sally hedged, “until then, let’s just keep this between us girls, OK? “ “OK,” Sally’s little sister said dubiously before leaving her sister alone, “I guess so.”

Explaining things to her younger sister actually helped Sally put her situation into perspective for herself. As much as she dreaded her coming date with the spanking belt, she knew that her parents loved her and that her coming ordeal was entirely her own fault.

After a Saturday that seemed to last forever, Sunday morning finally arrived. The King family filled their usual pew in church. Sally was aware that her parents had made some discrete calls to some of the other parents in the group that she had gone out with to tell them about the beer, and it was obvious from their squirming that some of her friends were particularly uncomfortable on the hard wooden church pews. Even though she had not yet been touched, nobody in the building was more uncomfortable than Sally.

After church and Sunday school, the Kings finally arrived home. As was their usual routine, everybody went to their respective bedrooms to change from their Sunday outfits. Mrs. King changed quickly so she could pop Sunday dinner into the oven before the family meeting; Mr. King took a quick shower before he changed into casual clothes. Mr. King had already checked the calendar and knew that today’s “Family Circle” would be an unusually busy one. Billy, the oldest boy, and Jane both had demerits to deal with. Bill had only ten demerits, but Jane had 50; ten from not cleaning up her room and forty for talking back to her mother, an incident that very nearly cost her a spanking rather than mere demerits. Gathering the hairbrush and the spanking belt, Jeff King went into the living room and placed the items on the coffee table, and then borrowed two chairs from the dining room and arranged the furniture in the living room into a big circle.

Mr. King checked that all was going smoothly in the kitchen and yelled up the stairs towards the children’s bedroom, “Family Circle in five minutes”.

Jimmy, the King’s youngest child at 10 years old, was the first to show up. Although Jimmy often had at least a few demerits to settle, today he was to be the only King child to show up in street clothes. He was staring in surprise at the belt on the coffee table when Mr. King asked him to fetch the kitchen calendar on which the demerits were written, they would soon need it. Billy and Jane arrived almost simultaneously, both wearing pajamas. Mrs. King walked in from the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel, and was slightly concerned to see that Sally was not yet there, but then she heard a faint flush and understood immediately that her daughter was taking the precaution of a last minute trip to empty her bladder. Blushing furiously, Sally walked into the room, wearing a pair of demure pajamas, the first time in nearly a year she had appeared so dressed for Family circle.

After leading the family in a short prayer, Mr. King told the family that instead of a bible lesson, Sally would deliver a little talk on the evils of alcohol (he had warned her to be ready). Surprisingly, Sally did a creditable job, spending about five minutes explaining the down side of imbibing alcohol. She reached the end of her talk with a little catch in her throat; “I had a little experience with alcohol recently, and there will be more about that later.” At that instant, all the King children guessed correctly why the belt was there and why Sally was wearing her pajamas.

The meeting now went into routine family matters. The family was planning an upstate camping trip in a few weeks and the boys were detailed the task of checking the family tent and other gear. Mrs. King talked about a problem with bedroom neatness that had developed over the last few weeks. With the business done, the room lapsed into an awkward silence.

Mr. King reached for the calendar and said, “Well, we have a rather unusual batch of disciplinary problems to deal with this week, congratulations to Jimmy for being the only one not on the list.” Jimmy beamed at the rare praise.

“Billy,” Mr. King continued, “You are first on the list, I see you have ten demerits. Please stand and tell the family how you earned them.” Billy blushed, then stood and explained that he had ignored his mother’s warning to clean up his room. “OK, come here and prepare yourself.” The father ordered. As Mr. King spoke, he turned his chair 90 degrees to the left so that Billy’s bare bottom would be facing towards the center of the circle, visible to all. Obediently, Billy stood at his father’s right side, lowered the back of his pajamas, and put himself in position across his father’s lap. The boy bucked slightly as Mr. King slowly delivered five medium-hard hand spanks to each bare buttock. The boy did not cry out, but he clearly had tears in his eyes when he was allowed to stand and readjust his pajama bottoms. Relieved that his punishment was over, the boy hugged his father and mother and then regained his seat.

The next name called was Jane, a normally sweet girl of 12 who had had a rather bad week. Jane had also earned ten demerits with a messy bedroom, but that was the least of it. Jane had allowed her mouth to run unchecked, and had regrettably given her mother some “backtalk”. For her performance, she was quite fortunate to have only earned 40 demerits rather than a spanking. Mr. King made her read off her offenses from the calendar and informed her that she would be receiving 10 hand spanks followed by 8 with the hairbrush. Jeff King informed his contrite daughter, “I think you are getting off lightly with just demerits and this had better not happen again, I will not have my children disrespecting their mother. Come here and prepare yourself!” Reluctantly but obediently, the girl went to her father, lowered her PJ’s in back as her brother had, and started to bend over her father’s lap. He stopped her; “Not so quick young lady, the hairbrush will need a bit more target area than that, lower them below your hips.” As the girl pushed her pajama bottoms further down in back, the elastic stretched, strained and snapped down in front. Her face reddening, the girl quickly got into position to hide her nakedness against her father’s lap. As her feet dangled down to the floor, gravity betrayed her by pulling her pajama bottoms well south of her knees. Demerits were supposed to be a brief, measured punishment, so the father began by swatting Jane’s bare bottom with exactly the same force that he had earlier used on Billy. As usual, Jane responded much more energetically than her brother, kicking and squalling her way through the ten firm hand spanks. “Mr. King paused, picked up the brush, and announced, “OK, eight with the brush! Remember! Never again to talk back to your mother.” “Yes Daddy” the girl sobbed.

Each spank with the brush was worth 5 demerits, so Jane’s father put much more energy into these final strokes. From previous experience Jane knew exactly what to expect, but that previous experience had granted her bottom no immunity to the effects of that nasty implement. From the very first spank, Jane kicked, squalled and bucked. By the third swat, her right legs had jerked free from her bunched-up pajama bottoms, and her kicking caused the garment, still attached to her left leg, to wave like a flag of surrender. No longer attached to each other, her legs splayed in opposite directions. Seconds later, her ordeal over, the sorry girl was allowed up on her feet. Fortunately, the long-forgotten pajamas slipped off of her remaining leg, so she did not trip as she squalled, danced, rubbed, and generally seemed inconsolable, inadvertently revealing all of her charms to her brothers who took no special notice. The King children had been punished together for as long as they could remember, and they had all seen each other several times before. As usual, the girl quickly recovered, her dance quickly giving away to a rueful rub. Next, Jeff King enjoyed of those tender moments that all parents live for. Proving that she held no hard feelings for her red and stinging bottom, his wet-faced, still-bottomless daughter spontaneously climbed back up on her father’s lap and hugged him hard as she indulged in her last few sobs. At her father’s suggestion, the red-bottomed, wet-eyed girl went to her mother, hugged her, apologized for being disrespectful, and promised that it would never happen again. Mrs. King forgave the girl with a hug and a kiss and helped her put her pajama bottoms back on.

Sally watched all of this with tears streaming down her cheeks; she knew that she was next and that she had a far worse punishment coming.

The family’s newest drinker did not have long to wait. “Sally,” Mr. King said firmly, “I believe you have something to say to the family.”

Sally stood, faced the family, and burst into tears. Her mother spoke up gently; “Sally, we are going to all sit here until you say what you have to say. Calm yourself down and get it over with.” With visible effort, Sara pulled herself together and choked out the words; “I…I…I gave in to peer pressure and drank beer Friday night…and then I was afraid to come home and ended up being two hours past my curfew…and then I did something terrible.” The distraught girl went on to explain how she had tried to fool her parents with the peppermint and how she now understood that doing that was the same as lying to them.

“I…I did three things wrong, and two of those things could earn me a whipping, but Dad and Mom are going to consider it all one thing and give me just one whipping, but it is going to be…” at that point, the girl could go no further. Mr. King finished for her; “She is going to get just one whipping, but it is going to be extra hard. You have all been warned; so we are not likely to be so tolerant in the future, understand?” Three King children nodded solemnly in awe, there had previously been a few “extra hard” spankings, but never before an “extra hard” whipping; this was truly going to be a “Family Circle” to remember.

There was a long silence as the parents waited for Sally to compose herself. Finally, she seemed to be able to pull herself together again, and faced her parents bravely, ready for her punishment. “Billy?” Mr. King asked as he picked up the belt from the coffee table, “Would you please help Sally rearrange the furniture for her whipping?” The two kids lifted the coffee table out of the way and slid a wide-armed easy chair into place several feet in front of the couch. They oriented the chair so that Sally’s bottom would be facing her sister and brothers’ while the belt was doing its fearsome duty. That job done, Billy thankfully regained his seat.

“You understand that everyone in this room loves you, right Sally?” Mr. King asked gently. Her eyes stinging with tears, the girl nodded her agreement. “Do you have anything else to say before we begin?” She shook her head “no”. “OK,” said Mr. King heavily, you have a price to pay and you and the other three all have a good lesson to learn from this. You may prepare yourself for your punishment.”

Instantly the girl blushed from her scalp all the way down to her neck as she obediently reached for the buttons on her pajama top. It was a blush that Mr. King knew well; he had first seen it on Sara’s mother 15 years ago as they had prepared to share their first exciting intimacies. The father knew well that when Sara’s pajamas came off, there would also be other things that would remind him of a younger Mrs. King. He wondered how he would bring himself to do his stern duty to his precious first-born. This must be the most severe punishment he had ever delivered to any of his children and he secretly wished it had been anyone but Sally.

Sara finally finished undoing all of the buttons on her pajama top and then seemed to freeze. Suddenly spurred on by a stern look from her mother, the girl quickly removed her pajama top, revealing firm breasts that had doubled in size since the last time that the father had glimpsed them. The girl laid the garment over the chair arm where she would soon be bent, and then reached to her waist to finish the job of baring herself. Quickly, she lowered her pajama bottoms, gracefully stepped out of them, and laid them over the other arm of the chair where they would soon absorb her tears. Sally stood before her family, her rapidly maturing body revealed to her family for the first time in over a year, dread hanging like an anvil inside her tummy.

He father gulped, took a breath, and finally spoke; “Get over your mother’s lap, she will prepare you for the belt.” The King’s had spoken at length about how they were going to handle this punishment. This had to be a memorable ordeal for Sally, but it also had to be safe. A whipping was already the considered the “ultimate punishment” for the King children; so how would they safely deliver the promised “extra hard” whipping? They finally decided that they would make it longer, not harder, and that they would start with a “warm-up” spanking. Mildly surprised at her orders, Sally went to her mother, gave her a peck on the cheek and a brief, teary hug, and put herself in the traditional position across her mother’s lap.

The spanking started with a flurry of rather light spanks that covered Sally’s bottom from her waist down to almost the backs of her knees. When every inch had been covered, Mrs. King stopped to inspect her work, and started again from the beginning, only with slightly harder spanks. After about four repetitions of this treatment, each slightly harder than the one before it, Sally was squirming, her bottom reddening to an ever-darkening patina. At this point, Sally was sobbing, but sobbing more from the shame and mortification than from the pain of the spanking. Mrs. King knew that her daughter was still “fighting it” and had not entirely given herself to her punishment. She intended to change that before Sally was allowed to bend over the chair to feel the belt.

Mrs. King paused one last time. Giving no hint of what was coming next, the mother suddenly unleashed a flurry of perhaps 20 full-strength spanks to the fullest part of Sally’s buttocks. Caught totally by surprise, Sally seemed to lose her breath and could at first only manage a gasp. Her arms and legs splayed, her knees curled up, and her right arm came back in an attempt to defend her buttocks from the unexpected assault. Mrs. King paused just long enough to immobilize the errant arm, and grimly started again. Now Sally found her breath, and her howls filled the room. With that, the mother pronounced the daughter truly ready to go to her father for her real punishment.

Back on her feet, the bawling girl immediately reached back to rub her bottom, but her father quickly grasped her elbows, brought the girl’s hands to her sides, led her to the chair, and urged her across its padded arms to continue her punishment.

With the still-sobbing girl in place, the father picked up the family’s spanking belt, (an old well-oiled work belt) and carefully wrapped it around his right hand three times leaving a business end that was only about 18 inches long. He turned to the three rapt children who were sitting side-by-side on the couch and said, “I’m sorry that you need to see this, but so that I won’t have to do this to any of you, it is important that you know what happens when you are untruthful to your parents or drink alcohol; understand?” Three wide-eyed children nodded earnestly.

“Sally, are you listening to me” he said sharply, A different-sounding sob and a nod of her head told him that she was. “Pull your arms underneath you and keep your hands clasped together. In no case, are you to reach back, that belt won’t feel good on your hands”. The girl looked back fearfully at her father and the belt. Sobbing even louder, she obediently retracted her arms underneath her body and clasp her hands together tightly. “You are a big girl so I am going to expect you to stay in position for the punishment you have earned. If you don’t, this whipping will take a lot longer than it should, understand?” The girl nodded again.

The girl felt leather brush against her bottom lightly as her father carefully gauged the range to her nervously clenching bottom. Sally was really glad that she had earlier made that trip to the bathroom because now she felt nervous enough to pee. Finally it started. The sound of the first collision between buttflesh and leather rang through the room; Sally bucked and howled piteously as a crimson stripe formed in the middle of her left nether cheek.

What followed was the most careful, deliberate punishment that the King children had ever known. The belt slashed down again and again, but always after a suitable pause carefully timed so that the target area had time to steady itself from the effects of the last stroke so that the aim of the next stroke would not be ruined. To make the spanking last longer, he exclusively strapped the left cheek until it looked like a bright red firehouse ladder, leaving the right side still untouched by the belt. After the first few strokes, he had his range calibrated so precisely, that the belt would connect solidly with the left cheek and then the nearly supersonic tip of the belt would barely caress the right cheek as it dug its way into her butt crack to leave a tiny welt that she would feel for days after the other evidence of her whipping had faded.

Sally had real problems staying in place for the first half of her strapping. Her father’s technique of spanking only half of her bottom at a time must have produced an uncomfortable contrast in pain on her bottom, and frankly, Sally had no experience in properly holding position for a punishment. She had never before been strapped and she had been firmly held across her father’s lap for her previous spankings, which were well over a year ago. At first she would howl, buck and writhe after each swat, and her father had only to wait a few seconds for the target to return to its proper place, but then the writhing became more of a twist that hid her bottom from the strap for a few more seconds each time. Finally, the poor girl twisted far enough around to give her father a pitiful, pleading look. Thoroughly uncomfortable, the father explained to the girl in an even non-threatening voice, that her punishment must continue and she was just making it worse on herself. With new determination, the girl put herself back into position, but after a few more hard strokes, a hand sneaked back in an attempt to protect her bottom. Mr. King had been expecting this, and had a plan. He immediately switched his target to his daughter’s lower, left thigh where the hand could not reach. Sally screamed and howled piteously, but her father was steadfast, and continued working on the entire area below her left butt-crease until she was red and marked almost down to the backs of her knees.

In the same flat tone, loud enough to be heard above her cries, but still sounding patient and controlled, Mr. King told his daughter to put her arms back into place. “We are almost halfway through” he said, “but I need to work on your bottom some more”. Still sobbing profusely, the girl complied, pulling her arms underneath herself.

A few more swats finished off the left cheek, and the father immediately started on the untouched (except for the warm-up spanking) right buttock. Sally’s screeching and bucking started anew, but, perhaps partially exhausted, she seemed to be able to hold her position better for this part of her spanking. Soon, Sally’s left and right sides were made to match each other and her punishment was almost over. “Hang in there Sally, just the finishing swats and we are done” her father announced. He stepped back and unwrapped one turn of the belt from his hand, leaving a longer tail. This time the belt finally slashed down across both sides at once, right on her “sit spot”. As his precious daughter bucked and screamed, the father carefully laid three more identical stripes in the same general area. Mrs. King had insisted on these “reminder marks” that Sally would feel every time she sat down for the next few days.

The father looked at his wife for approval, and she rewarded him with a solemn nod. She agreed; Sally’s punishment was finally over.

He dropped the belt and kneeled down next to his sobbing daughter, put his arm across her heaving shoulders and told her that she had taken her punishment well and was forgiven. Looking up at his other children he suggested, “Come over here one at a time, give your sister a kiss and then leave quietly. Your mother and I will take good care of her and get her to bed. Don’t forget what this was all about! No alcohol and truthfulness!” The three children nodded solemnly and complied, Billy first, whispering a few encouraging words in her ear, and giving her a quick peck on the cheek before going on to meet the rest of their day.

Alone with their hurting girl, the parents escorted her to her bedroom applied a soothing lotion to her livid bottom, and put the still-nude girl tummy-down in her bed with a single sheet over her body. After explaining to Sally that her punishment was over and she was free to get up and get dressed whenever she was ready, the parents tiptoed out of the girl’s bedroom.

As usual, life quickly returned to normal in the King household. Sally did not show up at Sunday dinner, so this gave the parents an opportunity to explain to that other children that Sally’s punishment was over, and that Sally was still their “big sister”, and that she still deserved their respect just as before. They were told that Sally would be hurting for a few days and that they should show her love and understanding. Finally, the children were warned that teasing Sally about her punishment would not be tolerated. As they had hoped, it was the last incident of alcohol abuse or major dishonesty involving any of their children that the Kings had to deal with. Their “lesson plan” was a success.

Copyright Guyspencer 2006

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© Guyspencer 2010

For the first decade of her life, Jan lived a very normal family life. Her parents subjected her to very normal discipline, virtually identical to that of most of her friends. Spanking was used as a last resort, and on those rare occasions it was always her father who led her to the privacy of her room (usually at bedtime) and reddened her little bottom, always with just his hand and usually over her panties except when special emphasis was needed.

Jan’s parents disagreed deeply about corporal punishment, but had reached a workable compromise early in their marriage. The compromise was simply that Jan’s mother would not oppose her husband’s decision to spank Jan, but he would limit punishments to moderate hand spankings. Furthermore, they agreed that bare bottom spankings would be rare. Over the years, both parents honored their side of the deal, and Jan never detected any tension between her parents concerning her discipline.

When Jan was about 12, her father’s health began to decline. Since Jan’s father was the family’s sole spanker, her spankings gradually became rare and finally disappeared altogether. As her father’s health worsened, Jan started spending considerable time at the home of Ellie, her maternal grandmother. This worked nicely because both parents wanted Jan to have an escape from the grimness of her father’s now terminal illness and it gave Jan’s mother (Mary) more time to care for her husband. Jan and Ellie became very close, she often spent several days at a time at her grandmother’s house during her father’s worst spells. Although Jan never complained about her grandmother, Mary was quite disturbed to discover that her mother had twice spanked Jan’s bare bottom with her old hairbrush. From past experience, Mary knew that Ellie’s views on discipline were firmly held and that there was no changing them. In particular Mary was intimately (and painfully) familiar with that same old hairbrush from her own childhood years.

Finally it happened; Jan’s father died. Although his death was expected, there followed the usually flurry of grief, out-of-town family, painful viewing sessions, and finally the funeral service. Weeks later, life had returned to a new version of “normal” with Jan and her mother finding a new way of life together. Jan now saw much less of her grandmother, but they still spent many Saturdays together. Mary dealt with her grief by throwing herself into her profession. She told herself that she was doing it so that she could afford to give Jan more opportunities, such as saving for her college education, but gradually her job grew to where it began to crowd Jan out of her life. The result was that Mary became increasingly unavailable to Jan, both physically and emotionally.

Not surprisingly, Jan’s behavior began to decline. First there were problems at school, but Mary blamed the school administration. Things got worse. After each incident, Jan seemed remorseful, but Mary’s (non-physical) punishments were having little effect. In desperation, Mary asked her mother for suggestions, but always received the same answer “Do you want to borrow my hairbrush?” Stubbornly sticking to her earlier rejection of spanking, Mary always ignored her mother’s advice.

It was when Mary received the phone call from the music store that she realized that things had to change. The security guard had caught Jan stealing a music video. Since it was Jan’s first shoplifting incident, the manager released Jan to her mother rather than involve the police. The ride home was quiet. Jan’s shoplifting seemed senseless to Mary; after all, Jan had enough money to buy several music videos.

When they arrived home, Mary and Jan had a long conversation. As usual, Jan seemed truly sorry for what she had done, but offered her mother no explanation for her behavior.

Finally, Mary sent Jan to her room and phoned her mother. “I am desperate Mom; what should I do?”

“I have told you several times what to do,” Ellie responded, “you just never do it.”

“I…I don’t know if I could bring myself to do it,” responded Mary, “but I know that I need to do something different. I might not be able to bring myself to spank hard enough, or I might spank too hard and injure her. Can’t you help me just this once?”

There was a long silence, finally Mary heard her mother say; “You are really asking me to spank Jan for you?”

“Well, tomorrow is Saturday and Jan was coming over anyhow; I am really desperate, I need any help I can get.” There was silence on the line; finally Mary surrendered completely; “Yes mom, I guess that you have probably been right all along, Jan needs to have her bottom spanked.”

There was another long silence. Ellie finally made up her mind: “It will be my way, and you know what that means!”

“Yes mom, I remember exactly what that means”.

And then finally Mary got her answer; “OK, just this once, and only because this needs to be a truly hard spanking. After this, you need to take that hairbrush home and use it as necessary.”

“Thanks Mom,” Mary breathed, “I will go break the news to her right now, she will be there tomorrow morning at the usual time.”

Jan seemed a bit taken aback, but took the news stoically. She again apologized, and then mother sent her to bed early. Her mothering duties finally over for the evening, Mary went downstairs, turned on her laptop, and buried herself in her business affairs for the rest of the evening.

The night was rough for both of them, especially for Jan. No sooner would she get to sleep than a red-bottomed vision of herself would wake her up. Regardless of Jan’s and Mary’s trepidation, morning arrived exactly on schedule. Mary rousted Jan out of bed at 7:30 and told her to be ready and down for breakfast by eight. Breakfast was a quiet affair; it was obvious that Jan was thinking about her impending punishment. “I am really sorry Mommy,” she finally said.

“I am sorry too Jan, but this seems to be something you need.”

“I…I guess so,” Jan conceded, “Is it going to be with the hairbrush?”

“You can bet on it,” Mary said, “and if I know Mom, it will be on the bare and be the hardest spanking of your life.” Jan took this news with a tiny tear in her eye.

Moments later, they were in the car. As grandmother’s house and Jan’s punishment got closer, the girl started sobbing. By the time they made it to Ellie’s porch, Jan was bawling.

“Jan? Jan?” Mary asked, “Are you going to be OK? I hate to leave you like this but I really need to get to the office you know. There is some work I really need to catch up on.”

“No Mommy, NO! Don’t make me face a spanking alone!” Jan bawled, “I love grandmother but you’re my mom and I need you with me for this.”

Just then Ellie opened the door. “Naturally your mother is going to stay for your punishment,” Ellie said. She turned to her daughter, “Your office is closed today and can do without you just fine. Isn’t your daughter more important than your office?”

Subdued, Mary mumbled an apology and escorted Jan inside.

Ellie quickly embraced the trembling child and gave her a kiss, and then pulled Mary into a 3-way embrace. In a husky voice she said, “Both of us love you a whole bunch Jan. We are going to punish you for thievery. We are going to make your bottom hurt enough to teach you a lasting lesson, and then we will forgive you and go on to more pleasant things; OK?” Reluctantly, the girl nodded. Ellie pressed on; “You know that you need this spanking; right honey?” Sobbing, Jan nodded again.

“OK”, the grandmother said, “first of all use the bathroom, and then just like the other two times I spanked you, you will fetch the hairbrush, put a dinette chair in the living room and get bare; right?” Still sobbing, the girl nodded again. “Then go; we will see you in the living room soon.” Ellie sent the girl off with a swat to her bottom.

With the girl out of earshot, Ellie turned to her daughter, “What the hell were you thinking about Mary? Did you really think it was OK to just drop your daughter off here for a spanking?”

“I’m sorry Mommy, I don’t know what I was thinking about.”

Slightly mollified, Ellie asked. “Are you serious about taking that hairbrush home and using it when Jan needs it?” “Yes Mom, I am convinced now; but I’m still afraid of hurting Jan.”

“Well you can pick up some pointers today, and I can be with you the first couple of times”

“Thanks Mom,”

“…and you can give Jan her warm-up spanking today.”

Mary stood open mouthed, “But…but I thought you were…”

“Yes Mary, I am. But she needs to have her bottom warmed up for the hairbrush. Just spank her tush nice and red with your hand and get her crying freely. Then it will be much easier for her to take her hairbrush spanking; you will be doing her a favor.” Reluctantly, Mary agreed to spank her daughter for the very first time.

With that decided, the two ladies went into the living room. They found the wet-faced girl standing next to the dinette chair in the center of the living room with pants and panties lowered below her knees. She was holding the feared hairbrush in one hand, and covering her groin with her other.

“Oops,” Ellie said, “I guess I wasn’t specific enough. You need to be naked for this punishment. And don’t worry about covering yourself like that; we have both seen everything you’ve got hundreds of times before.” Jan actually started to protest; “but why naked Grandma?” Ellie instantly cut her off; “What I should be hearing is ‘Yes Grandma.’ Actually I will explain in a minute, but get everything off first”.

Balancing on one foot at a time, Jan pulled off her socks and then pulled her legs out of her jeans and panties. Coloring slightly, she completed the job by removing her blouse and bra. “Fold those clothes up neatly and pile them on the coffee table, you will need them later,” Ellie ordered. Blushed with embarrassment, the girl complied.

Ignoring the spanking chair for a moment, Mary and Ellie sat down together on the couch and motioned the naked girl in front of them. Both ladies realized at that moment that it had been some time since either had actually seen Jan fully nude. Both Jan’s mother and grandmother looked at the girl’s flowering body with a mixture of love, pride, and a bit of envy. Below the trim girl’s pretty face were tiny, firm breasts that barely justified an “A” cup bra. Her flat belly was decorated with a perfect navel. Trailing down from the navel was a narrow line of barely visible down hairs that led the eye down to a triangle path of longer blond hair that was not yet sufficiently luxuriant to obscure her female anatomy. A pair of hips that were just now starting to round out in anticipation of future motherhood served to make her waist appear impossibly tiny and framed her pubic mound perfectly.

The pause grew long and uncomfortable. Naturally, the pause was especially uncomfortable for Jan. Finally Ellie broke the silence: Do you remember the other times you have felt this hairbrush? “Yes Grandma, the first time I got spanked for sassing you and the second time was when you caught me with the cigarette.” “And you have never done either of those things again have you Jan?” “No Grandma, I haven’t.” “See?” Ellie said, “That hairbrush really works! Now on a scale of one to ten, how hard would you say those spankings were?” The girl stopped to consider her answer: “They were really hard Grandma; I guess a nine or a ten?” Ellie broke the news to her granddaughter gently: “Actually I would call those fives. Today you are going to get an eight. It probably should be a ten, but I want you to have something special to look forward to if you ever steal anything again.” The girl looked at her grandmother soberly. “Mary”, the grandmother said, turning to her daughter, “I am sure that you have already scolded Jan and had a long talk with her about her behavior so we don’t have to cover that ground again, right?”

Mary pointed at her daughter; “Let Jan answer that.”

“Yes,” Jan assured her grandmother, “Mommy and I had a talk last night, and then she talked to you on the phone and then she told me I was going to get sp…spanked by you.”

“OK that covers that,” declared Ellie, “Now for the next item; you asked my why you had to be naked for this spanking, and there are several reasons. First of all, it is going to be a very hard spanking that I want you to remember for the rest of your life so we never have to do it again and being naked will make it just a bit more memorable. Second, when I am done with you and you are done dancing and crying and rubbing your bottom, all you are going to be thinking about is going to bed for a while and you will already be dressed for it. Third, it is kind of a symbol for something I am going to need from you right now.”

There was a long silence until Jan finally asked the question that seemed to be required of her: “What is that Grandma?”

“I need the naked truth,” Ellie said, “I can see the whole outside of you, but now I need you to help me see what is inside. Will you help me with that?”

“I will try Grandma,” the girl said with obvious curiosity in her voice.

“You did what you did and your punishment is all decided. Nothing you say in the next few minutes will change your spanking for better or worse; understand?” The girl agreed with a silent nod. “OK,” the wise old lady said,” I want you to think back to the moment you walked into that store, it was only yesterday, this should be easy right?”

“Yes Grandma,” the girl agreed.

“Tell us what you were thinking at that moment; the moment you walked into the record shop.”

Jan stopped and thought for a moment, “I was thinking about Mommy.”

“What about your Mother?”

“I was wishing she was with me, but there was some work she had to catch up on at the office so she told me to go to the mall by myself and get something to eat and she would meet me there.”

In a softer voice Ellie said, “I happen to know that you had enough money to buy that video if you had really wanted it, and I happen to know that the one you ‘stole” was by Dave Matthews and you don’t even like his music.”

“She doesn’t?” blurted Mary, “I didn’t know that.”

It came out before Ellie could stop herself: “Perhaps if you paid a bit more attention to your kid you would know these things.”

As Mary sat back stunned, Ellie turned back to Jan and motioned for her to talk, “I was mad at Mommy, because she promised me she would be there and she wasn’t. Maybe I wanted to get caught just to teach her some sort of a lesson.” Both Jan and Mary were more than a little taken aback, Jan because she had revealed more than she had planned on, and Mary because the truth had cut her like a knife.

The new batch of tears in Jan’s eyes kept her from noticing the daggers in Ellie’s eyes as she looked at Mary. Understanding that she shared some of the blame for the incident in the music store Mary started to say, “Perhaps we shouldn’t spank Ja…” but instantly Ellie cut her off,

“Oh yes, Jan gets spanked! She did the crime and now she gets the ‘lap time’ just like we promised. We can ‘discuss’ your part in this later.”

Ellie stood and gave her granddaughter a long, comforting hug and then held her at arms length. “I think we have gotten to the bottom of this thing and I think we now can make a few changes that will help out in the future. Are we all ready to start your punishment?” Jan nodded miserably. “OK honey” Ellie said gently “your mom will give you a warm-up spanking and then I will do the honors with the hairbrush.”

At that, Mary reluctantly stood, gave her daughter a squeeze and a peck on the cheek, and then led her by the hand to the dinette chair in the middle of the living room. Mary sat on the chair, and Jan automatically put herself in the traditional position across her mother’s lap.

Perhaps Jan and Ellie expected the spanking to start immediately, but Mary had her own ideas. Starting with her tense neck muscles, Mary massaged her daughter as she spoke gently to her. She told Jan that things were going to be quite different in the future, and that both of them were going to be more accountable in the future. She explained that the hairbrush would be going home with them, and that Jan would once again be subject to regular spankings should they be needed. She also promised that she would change her priorities to make more time available for her daughter. By this time, she had worked her way down so that she was massaging Jan’s back.

Finally, Mary explained to Jan that her behavior in the music store had been not only been wrong, but willful. “It is time for you to pay for your actions and learn a lesson that will last you for the rest of your life.” she concluded as she massaged Jan’s clenched buttocks. Jan made a response that may have been intended to be an apology, but the best she could manage was an inarticulate sob.

There was a silence as Mary continued to massage her daughter’s bottom. Mary was trying to compel Jan’s gluteal muscles to relax, and also sort of taking the measure of her target area before she began the unfamiliar task of spanking her daughter. When she finally had the girl’s buns relaxed, she took another minute to work her way down the backs of girl’s upper legs.

Without warning, Mary steeled herself, raised her hand, and struck her daughter’s bottom for the very first time. Jan bucked and squealed in surprise and pain. Mary looked down at the red handprint on her daughter’s bottom, gulped and sobbed. Realizing the huge step her daughter had just taken, Ellie found herself blinking back tears. Mary continued to stare at her daughter’s quivering bottom, so Ellie decided to break the spell with a bit of motherly advice.

“Start off kind of soft and then slowly build up the heat until your spanks are just a little harder than that one was.” Mary nodded her understanding, pinned Jan’s tiny waist with her left hand, and grimly went to work.

A few minutes later found Mary was doing a creditable job of “building up the heat” on her daughter’s bottom. Jan’s entire bottom was turning a bright red, and Jan was long past the stage where it was possible for her to remain silent. The girl was crying real tears and her nose was running prodigiously, making the girl gasp uncomfortably for air between her cries. Jan was not the only one with wet eyes. As Mary spanked, she was spanking a bottom that was greatly distorted by the tears running from her own eyes. Regardless, the mother grimly soldiered on, doing her duty as she now saw it. Jan’s bottom was not difficult to find; she could have done the job blind, and the increasing blush of her bottom’s skin showed through her teary vision just fine. Twice, Mary had to warn Jan to get her right hand away from her bottom before Ellie finally suggested that Mary capture it and hold it in the small of Jan’s back.

Finally, Mary sensed that her part of Jan’s punishment was complete. She stopped spanking her daughter, looked up at her mother, and was rewarded with a smile of approval. Mary held Jan in place for a full minute to allow her time to calm down. “OK, honey, Mary said in a businesslike tone, “we are going to change spankers. Stand up next to the chair, keep your hands away from your bottom, and do not move.” Still crying freely, the girl stood up. Although she barely succeeded in keeping her feet in one place, she hopped up and down and wiggled her bottom in a vain attempt to sooth the sting.

A moment later, Mary and Ellie had changed places and Jan was across her grandmother’s lap. For just a moment, Ellie ignored the naked, red-bottomed girl lying across her lap, and started giving Mary spanking pointers in a manner that was almost clinical. “Mary, pay attention to how high I raise the hairbrush and how fast I bring it down. Remember, this thing multiplies your strength and you have to be careful with it. The idea is to impart a memorable sting without doing any lasting damage.” Mary nodded her understanding.

Finally Ellie turned her full attention to Jan, who was sobbing anew. A moment later, Ellie was firmly holding Jan in place and that old brush was doing its awful duty.

A mere two minutes later, it was all over but the crying. It had not taken the determined grandmother long to deliver approximately 30 moderately harsh wallops to Jan’s rump and a flurry of lighter strokes to the lesser padded regions on the backs of her legs. Her bottom had at first turned a new darker shade of crimson, and then took on a mottled appearance that presaged moderate bruising. Her resistance broken down by her session over Mary’s lap, the girl had filled her lungs and shrieked from the very first stroke of Ellie’s hairbrush. Ellie had expected this, fortunately she had closed all of the windows before Jan and Mary had arrived. At least she would not be answering question from nosey neighbors!

It took a full 60 seconds for Jan to stop her keening cries and notice that she was no longer being spanked. Ellie said a few calming words to the girl and urged her up on her feet. Jan’s hands immediately reached back to her stinging bottom, and then flew away as her desperate rubbing reawakened thousands of outraged nerve endings. Jan had to settle for a sort of lewd dance with her hands trying to wave some cooling air onto her overheated bottom.

Finally, Jan went to Ellie for a forgiving hug, and started to climb into her grandmother’s lap. “No Jan,” the old lady said, “I love you but that is your mother’s job.” The next thing Mary knew, she had a lapful of daughter desperately hugging her and sobbing on her shoulder. Mary held her daughter for several minutes, rocking and whispering calming words before Ellie finally suggested, “why don’t we get your little girl in my bed so that we can doctor up her bottom and let her get some rest?”

Mary led Jan towards Ellie’s bedroom while Ellie ran ahead to pull down the comforter and top sheet. Without prompting, Jan stiffly climbed up into the bed and lay facedown. Mary looked at her daughter’s livid bottom with a special interest; she knew that her own bottom deserved the same treatment for her part in this matter.

Mary rubbed her daughter’s back and neck and spoke soothing words to distract her while Ellie gingerly applied a soothing cream to Jan’s swelling buttocks. Ellie threw a single sheet over the girl and soon the girl fell into an exhausted, endorphin induced sleep.

Ellie looked at her daughter and with a slight edge to her voice said, “I think we need to talk while we have the chance. Let’s go out in the living room.” Obediently, Mary followed her mother.

Mary and Ellie had a long talk about Mary’s parenting style. Ellie made Mary understand that she had been shortchanging Jan in favor of her job. Mary needed to change her priorities. When the conversation was over, both women looked at the dinette chair still sitting in the middle of the living room with the hairbrush lying on it. Both knew what the other was thinking…

Some indeterminate time later, Jan was awakened by the sound of a spanking. She clearly heard the “pop” of the hairbrush as it repeatedly collided into someone’s bottom. That “someone” was making lots of noise. Obviously, these sounds made no sense to Jan’s sleep-dulled brain. She was the only non-adult in the house; how could she be hearing a spanking? Perhaps it was too-vivid a memory of her recent spanking… perhaps it was just a bad dream…perhaps…perhaps… Her brain settled everything by dragging her back into a deep sleep, a place where a girl needn’t worry about spankings.

An hour later, Jan stirred and was surprised to feel a warm presence next to her. She reached over to find her mother laying naked on her belly, apparently in a deep sleep. Suddenly remembering her “dream” and developing a suspicion, Jan lifted the sheet and inspected her mother’s bottom. She winced at what she saw, and then realized what her grandmother had done for her.

Mary opened one eye, smiled sweetly at her daughter and the two dissolved into a mutually comforting embrace and drifted back off to sleep together.

Jan’s final thought before being overcome by sleep was a certainty that everything was going to be different now. Grandmother had taught two lessons today.

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"Investment Strategy" (F/M)

GuySpencer Home Page
© Guyspencer 2010

Just for fun, I wrote this story starting from the title of a random spam on SSS. Perhaps it was boredom (or some other mental defect) that made me take the idea of writing a story to fit its title (rather than the other way around) as a bit of a challenge. So here it is, hot off the computer.

Investment Strategy

It all started innocently enough as the two couples (the Birds and the Evans) were enjoying a quiet evening together in the Evan’s kitchen. The card game had somehow wound down and finally was forgotten altogether as the couple drifted into a free-ranging conversation. Nobody remembered how the subject of their childhood discipline experiences morphed into a totally unrelated discussion of investing, but that is the way things happen sometimes.

All was well until June Evans complained that her husband Sam had always insisted on taking exclusive charge of the couple’s investments, even including making decisions concerning June’s 401(k) account. “Woman can invest just as well as men can,” insisted June. “I am sure that they can,” agreed Sam, “as long as they have the proper background in business, that is. I majored in Business but you majored in Interior Decorating. What do you know about investment strategy?” “I…I think I know enough to manage my own money,” retorted June. June’s friend Sara chimed in, “You know, Bob is the same way, we won’t even listen to my ideas about our investments.

From there, the conversation deteriorated into a male-against-female struggle. Sam and Bob claiming that their educational background made them more qualified to make important financial decisions, and the ladies asserting that all that was needed was common sense, (of which they felt they had plenty).

Finally, the two couples decided on a friendly competition, the ladies teamed up against the men. The rules would be simple. They decided that each person would be granted a virtual $5,000 to buy a single stock or fund. The result would be two portfolios (a “male” portfolio and a “female’ portfolio) each initially valued at $10,000 and each consisting of two stocks. After 90 days, the portfolio that was worth the most money would be the winner.

It was Sam who started the trouble: “We should make this interesting,” he said, “what does the winning team get?” The idea of discipline must still have been in Sam’s head, because he suggested, not seriously, that the losing team should get red bottoms. Surprisingly, it was Sara who picked up on the idea; “well,” she opined, “at least it is something we can all afford and we know that a spanking would be nothing new to any of us.” Sam (who always wanted to see a bit more of Sara) came up with an idea that he expected to be quickly vetoed: “If we win, the girl’s spankings should be together, right here in this kitchen.” Bob (who always wanted to see a bit more of June) upped the ante a bit: “I agree; it should be real spankings right here, delivered the same way the four of us were spanked growing up, with pants and undies all the way off.”

Again both men expected this to end the conversation, but instead, the girls retreated to the next room for a moment to caucus.

The ladies were gone for about five minutes while the men sipped on their coffee and strained their ears to hear what their wives were talking about. Finally Sara and June returned with smirks on their faces. Sara spoke for both of them, “OK guys, this is what we propose. If we lose, we will remove our shoes, pants and panties and then stand together in front of you two and ask you to give us real spankings to remind us not to doubt you again. We will willingly go over our own husband’s lap and expect simultaneous hard hand spankings, with red bottoms and probably real tears.

To Sam, this sounded like a dream come true; “this is going to be like taking candy from a baby” he muttered. Bob, an engineer, took a more analytical approach; “and if you girls win?” he asked cautiously.

Now June did the talking; “Well…you know that us girls are not as strong as you big guys…so we would need a bit of an advantage.” “Here it comes,” thought Bob. June continued; ”we would expect you two guys to bare yourselves and submit to a real belt whipping…with substantial belts that you would submit tonight for our approval.” Bob gasped, but Sam had no doubts about his ability to win. “Done” Sam said. Both Bob and June said, “Wait!”

Bob and June look curiously at each other for a moment and finally he nodded for her to continue. “In the home I grew up in, the belt was always given bare, really bare. That is the way I am expecting you two to take your punishment. You will take every stitch off in front of us and then stand side-by-side and admit that we girls can invest just as good as you men can, and then you will bend over and hold position while we each spank our own husband’s bare bottom with the belt. Is that clear enough? “I think that is a little too clear for me,” said Bob, “no thanks!” Sam, still feeling invincible, wheedled; “we can’t just chicken out like that Bob, let’s go in the other room and talk.” Reluctantly, Bob followed his friend out into the living room.

As soon as they got out of earshot Sam turned to Bob and convincingly made his case that they could not lose this bet. “They know nothing about investing, we hold all of the chips in this contest.” And then he delivered the clincher, “Think how cute they are going to look standing side-by-side naked from the waist down, knowing they are about to get spanked. How could you possibly turn that down? I think we should go back and take that deal right now before they come to their senses.” With butterflies in his stomach, Bob followed his eager friend back into the kitchen where the deal was sealed over fresh cups of coffee. Whatever happened, there were going to be two sets of red buns in 90 days.

It happened to be the 28th of the month, so it was decided that everybody would submit his or her stock pick on the first of the month, and then the bet would run until the end of the third month. Sam went into his bedroom to rummage for a suitable belt, but fortunately Bob happened to be wearing one that the girl’s found acceptable. June accepted the two belts; “We are going to put up a graph of our portfolio performance and it is going to be framed by these two belts,” she promised. “In that case,” said Sam, “us men will do the same. Would it be too forward to request a pair of panties from each of you to properly accessorize our chart? They will symbolize the panties you will be removing for us when you lose.” Both ladies thought that Sam’s idea was a bit tacky, but ultimately agreed to the request.

The next day, both men feverishly researched their stock picks for their portfolio. Bob went at it in a very analytical fashion, and came up with what seemed like a safe choice. “There has not been a single 90-day period in the last three years when the NASDAQ composite index has failed to increase at least a bit; I am going to put my money in a fund that tracks that index.” “That sounds like a pretty safe choice,” Sam acknowledged, “Even if it does go down a bit, I have a blockbuster stock that will make up the difference and make our portfolio the winner.” That term “blockbuster” raised alarm bells in Bob’s analytical mind. “What stock is that?” he asked warily. “Its symbol is NBAT,” Sam said enthusiastically. “They are a tech firm that has invented a new battery. It is being sold for limited government applications now, but it is going to be the latest and greatest thing for laptop batteries.” “What is going to be so great about them?” Bob asked with a bit of hope in his voice. “They are going to be cheaper and safer while having greater energy density than lithium batteries,” Sam enthused. “Not only that, but once they get a few bugs worked out, they are going to revolutionize electric vehicles. With those batteries, we are all going to be able to drive to work without using any gasoline!”

Since Bob was an engineer, the word “bugs” should have told him to do some research on his own, but when Sam told him that he had some inside information that there was going to be a “big announcement” in just a few weeks, he decided that it must be OK.

When the ladies announced their choices of stocks, it was hard for the two men to keep from smirking knowingly. When Sam asked June why she chose that particular insurance company stock, he could not resist a snort when she told him that she thought their gecko was cute. Likewise, Bob was encouraged when his wife selected a fast food franchise because she liked that Chihuahua with the Mexican accent.

60 days later, the lady’s portfolio was up modestly, but the guys weren’t doing so well. Bob admitted it first, “You know, the NASDAQ hasn’t done so well the last couple of months, there seems to be a sudden weakness in the tech sector. When is that big announcement supposed to happen for your stock?” “It should be any day now,” Sam said with a little less confidence than before, “there seems to be some delay and I am trying to get my source to find out what is happening.” “It had better come through,” Bob grouched, “or our ass is grass.”

With two weeks to go before the deadline, Sam came to Bob with a long face. “Well, NBAT finally posted that big announcement today,” he said without enthusiasm. “Well?” Bob asked. “It seems that there are still a few technical problems to be worked out. The laptop batteries work well when new, but are only lasting 4 months in field trials.” “Did that hurt the stock price?” Bob asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. “Actually, it tanked big time,” Sam admitted. “Their lender lost patience with them and called the loan. It looks like bankruptcy.” “Are you trying to tell me that my ass is about to taste leather?” Bob asked evenly. He was not happy with the answer. “Yes Bob, we are screwed, we may as well get it over with now and save ourselves two weeks of anticipation.”

In hopes of currying a bit of favor, Sam and Bob took their wives out for an early supper that evening at a nice Italian steakhouse. As they were waiting for the main course to be delivered, June asked innocently “To what do we owe this great favor?” Both men instantly blushed and suddenly developed a sudden interest in the texture of the tablecloth. Finally Sam answered, “This is our way of telling you that we are ready to pay up on our little bet. The company I picked is in big trouble, and the stock price is through the floor” Both women looked at each other in astonishment.

That evening found the two couples back in the Evan’s kitchen where they had made the bet nearly three months ago, only this time the dress code was much different. The two ladies were still wearing the nice outfits that they had donned for their dinner, but Sam and Bob were standing together in their altogether, having just formally admitted their pending loss and requested their punishment. There were two neatly rolled up belts waiting on the kitchen table.

After a pregnant pause, calculated to intensify the butterflies that indubitably inhabited the pit of men’s guts, June finally spoke up: “Well men, as we agreed, this whipping will be the real thing. However, we have decided to leave one detail to you. Do you want to get the belt ‘cold turkey’ or do you want us to prepare you first with a hand spanking? Either way, it will be the same whipping.” Bob turned to Sam, “Did you get the belt much when you were growing up?” “Enough to know what it feels like,” Sam admitted. “Did your parents give you a ‘warm up’ spanking?” “Usually” Sam said. “And which way do you prefer it?” “Well,” Sam finally said, “Mostly I learned to avoid the situation altogether, but if I had to get the belt, it was better with the warm up.” Bob agreed and told the ladies, “we will take the warm up spankings please.”

As their nervous husbands watched, the ladies pushed their chairs away from the dining room tables and situated themselves far enough apart so that the spankings could take place simultaneously. June hiked up her skirt to get it out of the way, but when Sara tried to do the same thing, it was too tight. With a shrug, Sara stood, worked for a moment at her hip, stepped out of the garment, neatly folded it, and laid it across the back of her chair. Bob had seen Sara much more exposed in a tiny bikini on several occasions, but this, his first view of her in her panties startled him. He suddenly felt a familiar feeling in his groin and quickly lay across his own wife’s knees to hide the unwelcome swelling of his member. Likewise, Sam lay across his own wife’s lap, and the spankings began without further ceremony.

Both men were able to take their warm up spanking quietly, but an involuntary wiggle of their bottoms told the ladies that the men were feeling it. After about three minutes of determined spanking, the ladies had imparted a satisfying patina to the men’s bottoms as well as a distinct sting to their own hands. It was time for the main event.

“OK men, let’s not delay” Sara said to the two naked men who were ruefully rubbing their smarting bottoms, “Pick up your belt and let’s get into the living room so we can finish this job.”

At the lady’s direction, the men pulled the couch away from the wall. Each handed his belt to his wife, and then one man was directed to bend over the padded arm at each end of the couch. “Now I want you to grab hold of each other’s wrists like performers on a high wire act and don’t let go no matter what happens; got it?” The two men did as they were told. With their interlocking grips, reaching back to protect a burning bottom would be impossible. “Here are the rules,” June explained, “You will both get the same number of swats, but the whipping will continue until the two of us decide that it is over. Make all the noise you want, but we expect you both to stay in position. OK?” Both men nodded sadly.

Belt in hand, the ladies moved behind their respective husbands and simultaneously started their work. Almost immediately, what should have been a simple whipping turned into a bit of a competition between the two men. Neither man wanted to be the first to make a noise or to have his hands restrained by the other. The ladies naturally took all of this silence and stillness as a sign that they were not swinging their belts hard enough, so that also turned into a bit of a competition between the ladies.

In the end, the men did plenty of urgent squirming and made far more noise than either would have wanted.

Chapter 2

After the whippings, the men ruefully rubbed their red and swelling bottoms and did their best to look as manly as possible given the situation. Sara helped her husband replace his outer clothing so they could make their exit. Sam and June saw their friends out the door and then quickly prepared for bed. Minutes later, both ladies were in bed with their mates, applying the time-honored universal cure to their husbands. In both cases the treatment worked well, although Sam and June mutually decided on a repeat treatment.

Copyright Guyspencer 2006

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"SPANKED!" (M/f)

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© Guyspencer 2010

…………………Chapter 1………………………

SPANKED! I am going to get SPANKED! And it was even my idea…at least sort of. My mind is just sorta numb, and I hope it stays that way or I am really going to get scared and nervous. I am almost seventeen and a half, and the last time I was SPANKED I was 15, so I really thought my spanking days were over. It is amazing that I used to feel so smug when one of my two brothers or one of my friends got it, because I assumed that I was too old…or perhaps too good…to ever get it again myself. Well I guess I was wrong, because today I am going to get SPANKED!

Yesterday was the last day of school before spring break and the whole senior class was invited to a big “spring break kickoff” party at Becky’s house. Dad and Mom let Randy drive me to the party because they knew that it was going to be supervised by Becky’s parents and the party was going to be over at 11 sharp and it wasn’t far.

Becky’s parents were watching way too close for anyone to sneak beer inside, so the two six packs were outside behind a shrub. I still don’t know who brought them, but word spread quickly and we snuck out in ones and twos to partake. Randy and I shared a whole 16-ounce can.

We left the party a bit early so we could buy a pizza to hide the beer smell on our breath. It turned out that half the party went to Tony’s pizza, so it was kinda like a second party. Tony was a bit behind on his pizza orders so it took a while for us to get served.

Do I need to say it? It was almost 1 AM when Randy dropped me off at the house. The lights were still on bright. I knew that the scene inside was not going to be pretty, but I had no idea!

First I found myself alone in the kitchen with my mother and we were having the most embarrassing conversation of my life! She wanted me to be “straight with her”; did Randy and I “do” anything? Suddenly I realized what she was talking about and my face must have gotten bright red! Hell no we didn’t “do” anything: We were having way too much fun to be thinking about making out! Finally I convinced her that we were at Tony’s Pizza the whole time after we left the party and she could kinda tell by looking at me that there was no hanky panky. You should have seen the look of relief on her face! I thought that would be the end of everything and I could be off to bed until she said, “OK let’s go see your dad and face the music about you being late and about the beer”.

Beer? I had totally forgotten about the beer! How did she know about the beer?

Well I soon found out! A few of the others had been stupid enough to leave their empties on Becky’s lawn and her parents had a cow when they saw them. They got right on the phone and started telling parents… and then Mom smelled it on my breath. Busted!

And then I made it ten times worse.

When they asked for “my side of the story,” I tried to sound all goody-goody by explaining to them that I only drank the beer because I didn’t want Randy to drink the whole can by himself. And then my father asked “Well then who drove you home?” Busted again! I forgot the hard-and-fast “no alcohol and especially no alcohol combined with cars” rule. The fact that it was only one beer made no difference at all; to my parents, alcohol is alcohol and cars is cars.

My father is a large, easygoing man. He can show anger, but when us kids are “really” in trouble, he has this way of being serious and calm, almost kind. Now that the talk has turned to alcohol and cars, I suddenly notice that Daddy is acting very serious and calm...almost kind.

When my father had probed enough to be 100% sure that he understood the whole story, the conversation shifted to “how disappointed” he and Mommy were with me. Then I knew that I was really in trouble.

I could not believe my stupidity.

Then the lecture started. After the longest 15 minutes of my life, my parent’s tag-team scolding finally wound down. They told me to go up and get ready for bed and then come back down and see them. I was in serious trouble and they obviously wanted to talk privately about how they were going to punish me.

Ten minutes later, I was back down in the living room wearing my PJs and trying to look as sorry and as cute as possible. Dad came right out and told me that I was on three weeks strict restriction. Wait a minute; my spring break is only two weeks long! I starting bawling and tried to bargain to delay my restriction until school started again. No way! I would be a prisoner through my entire senior spring break and then some!

Then I blubbered something about how I would rather take a hard spanking than lose my spring break. I don’t know if I really meant it at the time, but my parents greeted my suggestion by a long silence rather than the outright refusal I expected. It is amazing how sometimes my parents can have a whole conversation with each other and not say a word. My mother looked at Dad sort of hopeful-like, clearly she didn’t relish being my jailer for the next three weeks. ...And then my father gave her this sort of sad, resigned look. (Obviously, he didn’t really want to be my executioner.) Finally my father gave a little shrug like he had lost a bet and asked me, “Are you sure that is what you want Honey? We are not talking about a little nursery school paddywacking here! This would have to be a spanking that would substitute for a three-week restriction.”

…And then I suddenly stopped my blubbering and I got the funniest feeling in the pit of my stomach. You know that feeling just before you top that first big hill on the rollercoaster and you are about to plummet nearly straight down? It felt just like that.

I tried to stall and get a little more information; “Would it…would it be…would it be with…?” My father stopped me before I could even form the question. He said that he and Mommy hadn’t had time to discuss anything about a spanking yet and if I decided to get spanked I would just have to take my chances and live with their decision. He said I “should consider the full range possibilities, including the belt.” I think he was hoping to talk me out of it.

And then he said I had to make up my mind right then and there…and then I would not be allowed to change my decision. Otherwise I would just torment myself with second guesses.

In the end it was an easy choice; a few minutes of hell compared to being a prisoner through my entire spring break. A spanking, even a very hard spanking takes no more than ten or fifteen minutes; but three weeks of restriction takes three whole weeks! I didn’t want my brothers to hear me get spanked, but either way they would soon know of my disgrace. That’s the rule in our family; punishments are never a secret. I gulped hard, and then it was like I was standing outside my body and someone else was talking. I apologized as best I could and then asked my parents for a spanking! My stomach was churning and I could hear my heart hammering in my ears. Half of me was afraid that Daddy would spank my bottom right then and there, but the other half was afraid he would make me wait.

As it turned out, I had to wait. Daddy was not about to spank his little girl at 1 AM, and besides, there was a sort of family ritual to follow: Tomorrow evening there would be a family meeting where I would have to confess everything, and then I would be sent up to my room to wait for Dad to come in and actually “do the deed”.

We all went to bed, but the night was hell! I was worried about my own bottom, but mostly I was worried because I had spilled the beans on Randy and doubtless my mother would call his mother.

By the time I got out of bed that morning, Daddy had already left for work. It was a really weird day. Mom said that even though I was not officially on restriction, I had best stay close to home until my punishment was over. I didn’t argue because I didn’t really feel like going anywhere anyhow. I didn’t ask, but doubtless my mother had already called Randy’s mother. I was really scared that he would be really pissed at me, but I finally screwed up my courage and called him. Fortunately, he was the person who answered the phone. “Don’t worry,” he said, “Becky’s parents beat your parents to the punch. Dad & Mom confronted me as soon as I got home and I confessed. Next thing you know my pants were off, my mom had confiscated my car keys and my dad had my own belt folded up in his hands. I’m sure you can guess what happened after that!”

I hadn’t intended to confess to him that I was going to get spanked, but under the circumstances, how could I not? After that, he supplied a few other details: He ended up “getting it” bent naked across an easy chair in the living room. His plan had been to take it quietly so as to not wake up his sister, but that plan dissolved into loud howls after only three swats with that belt. His sister ended up watching the last part of his spanking from the top of the stairs. She even saw the aftermath where he was dancing around still naked. Poor guy!

Sometimes that day seemed to go too fast and sometimes it seemed to crawl, but anyhow, it went. I tried to pump Mom about my coming spanking, but got nowhere. Just like last night, she simply said that her and Daddy hadn’t talked yet, but I had to accept whatever they decided I deserved. About this time I started to get really nervous! Daddy is a mechanic and he is a big guy with thick arms and very strong hands. There is no paddle in our house. When he spanks us, his hands are his implements of choice. Unfortunately, he also makes it known that the wide belt that holds up his work pants has another use, and you can guess what that is! I have never felt that belt myself, (though I have heard my brother’s get it) but I am terribly afraid that today is the day!

Another thing that I am afraid of is my panties. Specifically, I am afraid of being separated from them. I am almost 18 and, if I do say so myself, I look like a woman and I shouldn’t be displaying myself to my father. I tried to make Mom see my side of this, but she just brushed it off. Dad occasionally spanks us over our underwear, but usually he pulls them down in back and spanks our bare butt. Unfortunately, for the very worst spankings, he makes us take them off altogether. This hasn’t happened to me since I was nine, but today? Who knows!

Daddy got home at the usual time. I tried to hide in my room, but he knocked on my door to give me a hug to demonstrate that he wasn’t mad at me, and (I suppose) to see if I was OK. “I’m sorry about tonight” he said, “but come on downstairs and be with the rest of the family, it’s not as if you are an outcast.” As usual when he was just getting home from work, he smelled like transmission fluid or something, so he went to take his shower. Usually he would emerge from his after-work shower with shorts or his gardening clothes on, but today he was wearing a clean pair of work pants. My throat went dry when I saw that. That “dual purpose” belt was right there around his waist. I’m sure this was no accident. Tonight, when he visits my room to spank me, that belt will be with him!

My parents made suppertime as normal as possible. I think my brothers had been picking up some vibes all day, but they still did not know the score. The only reference to my “situation” while we were eating supper was when my father told us all to stick around after supper. “There is going to be a family meeting later.”

After supper, I sort of slinked up to my room. I was so nervous that I had to do something, so I called Emily on the phone. She could tell that something was wrong and tried to pump the details out of me, but the most I told her was that I was “In trouble” over last night’s activity.

………………….. Chapter Two (After supper) ………………

It was about twenty minutes later when I heard a knock on the door. I quickly said goodbye to Emily and yelled, “Come in”. It was John, my youngest brother with a concerned look on his face. He said that we all were to gather in the living room for the family meeting. Naturally, I knew the meeting was to be about my spanking. By now, the boys had figured out that neither of them was in trouble, so that left me.

In our family all spankings are given in private, but never in secret. A brief family meeting almost always precedes punishments. The culprit is expected to explain to the whole family what he or she had done to earn the punishment. The particulars of the punishment itself are not usually emphasized, but the walls of our house are not thick enough to hide the sounds of a spanking.

I had butterflies in my stomach and felt like a condemned felon as I sat on the couch with my brothers. Dad got right down to business; “Boys, there is going to be a spanking later tonight. We want to be sure that you know the reason so that you two never make the same errors. Kelly, go ahead and explain.”

By now, I had tears in my eyes!

Choking back sobs, I explained how I had been out two hours past curfew, had drank beer and, worst of all, had rode in Randy’s car after he had been drinking beer. Mommy chimed in to reiterate the family rules against alcohol and the dangers of drinking and driving. “Listen carefully to Kelly’s spanking tonight” she warned, “I want all three of you to learn a good lesson so we never have this problem again! This spanking is intended as a formal punishment for your sister, but also as a formal warning to you boys. If there is ever a repeat of this, things will go much harder.”

I was really glad when Dad reminded the boys that spankings were private family business not to be blabbed to their friends. Then he sent them up to their rooms. They left quickly and gratefully, leaving me alone with my parents to face my fate. I was really nervous! Normally I would be sent up to my room to be spanked, but right “here and new” seemed a distinct possibility.

My parents asked me if I had anything to say. That just made me start crying again but I managed to choke out some kind of an apology.

“I’m glad you feel that way” Daddy replied, “because we have a big problem and we are going to need your help.” Dad went on to explain how the boys looked up to their big sister and copied the things that I did. The “problem” was that my parents were afraid that the boys would see my drinking as a funny lark to copy later. They might even see me as a bit of a hero for enduring a spanking. Mommy asked: “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for your brothers putting themselves in danger because of something you had done would you?”

I got it! I really got it! Now I understood why my parents were so concerned. They were worried about not just me, but they were worried that my brothers might copy me and get hurt. If that happened, it would sort of be my fault! Boy! Suddenly I felt as low as a worm.

. “Only you can convince your brothers that what you did is uncool, dangerous, stupid and definitely something they should not emulate,” Daddy said, “are you willing to do that?” I nodded vigorously. “OK” Daddy said ominously, “we haven’t had time to discuss the particulars yet, but we are going to do our part by making sure that they know you have been well-punished, but we need you over the next few days to be sure that they really get the message.”

Well, I agreed, but it was not lost on me that I was also agreeing that I needed to be “well-punished”. Without wanting to, I found myself looking at Dad’s belt and wondering if I was going to be “well-punished” with that.

Daddy told me to go up to my room, take off my outer clothing, and wait for him. Daddy’s final words were surprisingly gentle; “Mom and I need a few minutes to decide on the details of your spanking, and then I will meet with you in your room and we will get it done.” I gave each of them a hug, and then padded up to my room.

Knowing I was just a few minutes from a very sore bottom, I obeyed Dad by taking off my top and my hip hugger jeans, leaving me in just my bra and panties. After a look in the mirror, I replaced my tiny, lacy, pink panties with a white cotton pair that covered more of me.

Then I sat down to wait. It seemed to take forever! My palms were sweaty, and my guts twisted every time I heard a noise in the house. At this point, I was sure to receive a hard spanking, but there were those two things that I was especially worried about; Daddy’s belt, being separated from my panties, and (a new thought) maybe even getting spanked and/or strapped totally naked. Earlier this morning, my thoughts were 90% wanting to get my spanking over with, and 10% dreading the spanking itself. Now suddenly the situation is reversed, 90% dread and 10% wanting to get it over.

Finally I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall! To my surprise, the footsteps went right past my door. I heard a knock at my brother’s bedroom door, and then I heard Mom talking to them in a low voice. A minute later, I heard heavier footsteps coming up the stairs; that had to be Dad! Suddenly dread was a physical thing, a thing that that lived inside my belly, a thing that painfully twisted my guts and made my heart beat so hard that it thumped in my ears.

The doorknob turned. Thinking back later, I distinctly remember that Daddy’s image seemed to be blurred as his big form filled my bedroom door; it must have been a sudden gush of tears that caused that. Anyhow, he came right in without knocking or anything. Naturally, that belt came in with him; but it was still around his waist, not in his hand; I took that as a hopeful sign. He pulled my desk chair into the middle of the room, sat down, and started talking, but it was a few seconds before I could seem to tune my ears to what he was saying. I said “Huh?” a couple times, but he was patient and finally we started communicating. For someone who was about to beat my ass, he was being remarkably nice to me. It was a bit confusing for me to mentally process that this patient, loving, protective man was about to hold me down and emphatically spank my bottom until I was beyond tears.

Just in case you don’t know how things work in my family, let me stop for a word of explanation. There was absolutely nothing I could say to my dad at this point that would change my punishment. The way it works is that Mom and Dad hash out the details of an imminent spanking, and then Dad goes upstairs and “does the deed”. Once he and Mom agree on a punishment for one of us kids, it is like a pact between them; he knows exactly what he is going to do and he won’t change anything. At that point, we can scream, beg, cry, bargain, make promises, but nothing matters except Daddy’s plan. Our punishment has been discussed and decided and Daddy is there to lovingly but very firmly apply it. Us kids are just expected to take it as gracefully as possible.

Daddy said that he had really tried to avoid this, and would have preferred the detention to spanking me, but under the circumstances he would have to do a “very good job”. In addition, he would have to “treat me just like he would one of the boys.” (When he said that, I got this weird vision of my panties sprouting wings and flying away without me.) I knew this was just his gentle way of informing me that I was not done undressing for my spanking.

Then he told me a bit about what was in store for me, “The only good news I have for you is that we narrowly decided against using the belt on you. Other than that, you should expect the very maximum punishment.“ He went on to tell me that my bedroom door would be open so the boys would be able to hear everything as a warning to them. (I was horrified of course, but this had happened once before when my oldest brother got spanked for shoplifting.) “Don’t worry,” he said, “your mom is in their bedroom with them so there is no way they can peek in at us.” Though I was not happy about that “open door” part, there was no point in arguing.

At that point, I just lost it! The relief at not getting the belt, news that I was about to receive an open-door “maximum” spanking, the tension of this whole day of waiting for a spanking; it all was suddenly more than I could handle. Everything just bubbled to the surface and I found myself in Daddy’s lap blubbering onto his shoulder. He held me patiently, somehow understanding that I would submit to my spanking as soon as I got control of myself. It is really funny; as he held me, he felt more like my protector than someone who was about to spank my bottom. I suspect that Daddy relished that tender moment, even though something unpleasant was about to happen. After all, this is one of the few times he gets to hold me as if I were still his little girl. I think even I liked it just a little bit.

As I cried, I tried not to get snot on his clean shirt, but it happened anyhow. Oh well, there will be a lot more of it after my spanking, and he didn’t seem to care anyhow. I was almost afraid to slow down in my sobbing, because then Daddy will suggest that we “get it over with”. That’s parent talk that means “lets go ahead now and strip off your panties and spank your bare bottom until you cry and kick and scream.”

Finally my sobbing did slow down a bit and he asked, “Do you feel a bit better now?” I guess I must have nodded a bit because (just like I knew he would) he asked, “Don’t you think we should get this over with?” Reluctantly, with my face still buried in his shoulder, I nodded a bit. I guess I did want to “get it over with”.

I should have known what the next question was going to be, but it embarrassed me to my toes! “Do you have to go pee first?”

You see, when I was about nine, I lost control and soaked my father’s lap while he was spanking me. Since then, he always asks before spanking any of us kids. I always find that question embarrassing because it reminds me of the time that it happened, but I especially was embarrassed today because I suddenly realized that I really did have to pee! I should have thought of that before, but I guess my anxiety made me forget.

Mortified, I nodded again into my father’s shoulder. “OK” he said in a firm tone, “Go do it. I want you back here in two minutes, just leave the bedroom door wide open while you are at it.”

I walked out into the hallway, (leaving my door open as ordered) and was not surprised to see my brother’s door wide open also. I could faintly hear my mother’s voice coming from that room; she was probably giving them a lecture about alcohol while they were waiting to hear my spanking. Fortunately, I did not have to walk past their open door to reach the bathroom. It is not that unusual for them to see me in bra and panties, but right now I somehow felt naked.

Sitting on the toilet with my panties at my knees, I was momentarily tempted to just let them drop to the floor and get it over with; but it didn’t happen. I decided to cling to them for every second I could! I finished my business, wiped carefully, and pulled them back up into place.

As I walked back into the bedroom, Daddy stood and gave be a crushing hug. I could feel his heart thumping. He sounded almost in tears as he said, “I love you Honey, but we really need to do a real good job of this. Please don’t hate me for hurting your bottom.” I almost “lost it” again, but I choked things back and promised that I would not hate him.

“Thanks Honey,” he said. After another crushing squeeze he released me and sat down purposely. (He had earlier turned the chair so that it faced the door.) After an appraising look, he finally said, “I see no reason to make you take off that bra, but I am going to need those panties out of the way. Go ahead and step right out of them.” I must have hesitated, probably just staring open-mouthed at him, so he kind of encouraged me; “It’s OK honey, I’ve seen it all before. Let’s just get this over with.” I guess I nodded, so he kinda relaxed.

This was not one of my better moments! Not wanting to flash my bush at either Daddy or the open door, I turned kind of sideways and reluctantly bared myself. As I was trying to get my ankles out of my panties, I got tangled up and nearly fell. Daddy caught me and held me securely by the waist as I succeeded in freeing my feet from my panties. He didn’t let go of me, but just lifted me and placed me across his knees as easily as if I were a rag doll. I don’t think he even saw my front in the process! I am taller than I used to be, so he carefully adjusted me so that my toes were just barely off the ground but that made my head hang down so close to the floor that I had to support some of my weight with my left hand. He asked for my right hand and trapped it in the small of my back. What a sight I must have been with my nearly 18 year-old bottom shining up at my bedroom ceiling! It never gets any sun, so it was bright white, but its color was due to change shortly.

Suddenly Daddy’s tone got firm and businesslike and loud enough to be heard in the next bedroom. As is his usual habit, he insisted that I tell him why I was about to be spanked. I started to croak out an answer, but he insisted, “Louder!” I finally managed to choke out an answer that pleased him. “Hold that thought,” he said. My reward for that recitation was to feel my father’s left arm tighten like a vise around my waist and his big paw circle around my wrist. Then I felt him lift his right hand off of my leg where it had been resting.

Seconds later, my spanking was well under way, and it was to be the hardest, loudest, longest, most exhausting, most embarrassing spanking of my life! It hurt! God did it hurt!

I did not know it, but my parents had plotted a nasty little surprise for me. Normally, my father starts out with a “warm-up” spanking. That is, he normally starts a spanking with light little slaps and then gradually builds up the heat. It sort of gets your bottom ready for the worst part, and that makes a hard spanking a bit easier to take. I was fully expecting Daddy to start out that way, and had figured that I was old enough to “tough out” at least that part of the spanking and display at least a few moments of cool before I faced the disgrace of being brought to tears.

But without the slightest warning, Daddy started spanking me with almost his full force! At first it surprised me so much that it literally knocked the air out of my lungs, but then I was finally able to gasp a couple breaths between spanks. And then I managed to form a proper shriek…and then things went downhill from there. My parents wanted to deny me the opportunity to act brave or display the slightest “cool” to my brothers, and they certainly succeeded! I thrashed, I kicked, I squealed, and I screamed, but none of that did me the slightest good. My Daddy just held me in that iron grip and continued to calmly “do his fatherly duty” to my quickly reddening bare ass in exactly the manner that he and Mommy had planned.

The next day, my brothers helped me put together what happened after that, because I was so frantic that my memory is not to be trusted. Here is how it went:

For that first part, Daddy probably gave me only eight or ten hard spanks to each side of my butt. They were hard and pretty fast, and absolutely left Daddy in control of whatever was going to happen after that.

After those first spanks, he left me blubbering across his lap for a couple minutes before he started again. This second part was just a “regular” very hard spanking. He displayed his usual great technique by varying where and when the next spank was gong to fall, a trick that kept me totally off-balance. This was the longest part of the spanking; my brothers said that it seemed to go on forever. To keep from spanking too much in one place, Daddy spread around the spanks as much as possible, leaving marks in places that will keep me in long pants for the next week or two.

Daddy did not bother restraining my legs, and I actually wish that he had. Since I was naked from the bra down, there were no pants around my legs to hold them together. I really tried to keep them together, but they had a mind of their own. I know that they must have splayed wide apart sometimes, because he was able to land some really painful spanks on my inner thighs. In the process, I must have shown him parts of me that only my doctor normally sees.

Although I mostly remember my burning bottom, it is amazing how uncomfortable my head was. It was hanging almost upside down, and I was crying so hard that my face was soaked wet with a horrible combination of drool, sweat, snot and tears. My nose was plugged, my eyes stung, and my throat hurt from my anguished vocalizations. In my throes, I even managed to pull my own hair when it somehow got under that hand I was supporting myself with. In short, I was a mess.

They said my crying and shrieking actually decreased over the last minute or two that Daddy was spanking me. I must have been getting tired and maybe a little numb, or perhaps I had finally gotten to the point where I could accept the punishment I deserved.

After what seemed like forever, the “main” part of my spanking was over.

Then there was a really long pause.

Of course, it took me a while to “catch up” on my crying before I could even notice that nobody was beating on my bottom, but finally it happened. After that, it took just a few moments for it to dawn on me that Daddy was still holding me down, so my punishment must not yet be over. Finally, I looked back at Daddy with cow-eyes, so he knew I must have been coming back to my senses. “Can you hear me OK?” he asked. Still blubbering a bit, I nodded. “We are not quite done,” he announced. “You have had a good spanking and your bottom is bright red, but we need to go just a bit farther.”

I don’t remember how I reacted to that news, but he explained in a sorrowful voice that he was about to leave marks on my bottom that I would be feeling for the next week or so. “Every time you sit down and feel the soreness, I want it to reinforce this lesson…OK?”

I really doubt that I did anything to indicate agreement, but he said, “OK, here goes” and then he planted a spank right in the middle of my left buttock with his full strength. The blow was so hard and so surprising that I almost bumped my head on the floor! Seeing my predicament, Daddy released my right hand and told me to put it down on the floor to steady myself. By now, the fight was just about gone from me, so I guess he figured it was safe to release that hand.

In the process, I looked up at Daddy and saw tears in his eyes. I thought that perhaps he would soften just a bit, but the next spank, again delivered with full force to exactly the same place on my right ass-cheek put an end to that idea. Normally, spanks with such force would have me screaming, but the best I could do just then was a pitiful meow. Then he lowered his aim a bit to deliver two blows with the same devastating force right where my bottom meets my leg. I know enough about getting spanked to know that I will be feeling THOSE for a long time. Then he slid me out on his knee so that he could get a proper swing, and deliberately gave the left side of my bottom the same treatment…four devastating swats on two places. There was a long, heart-pounding wait while he evaluated the results of those eight swats (which later turned into four nasty bruises). I guess he found them sufficient, because just then I felt his left arm finally relax. I was finally free. I had been spanked!

“OK; you have been properly punished and now you are forgiven” he announced, “but don’t you ever, EVER do anything like that again.” The next thing I knew, I was on my feet. I was far too exhausted to do a proper “spanked kid” dance, but I instantly reached back with both hands in a reflex (and stupid) attempt to sooth my burning buns. The result of my frantic rub was new pain that almost equaled a fresh spanking.

The new pain started me squalling again, so Daddy reached his arms out to me. I scrambled up on his lap, found a position that didn’t put pressure on my bottom, and had myself another good cry into my father’s shoulder.

While this was happening, Mommy came into my room and (thankfully) closed the door behind her. She put a comforting arm on my shoulder, whispered something into my ear, and planted a kiss on my cheek. The three of us stayed huddled together like that until I finally regained a bit of control. Finally, Daddy carried me to my bed, and gently laid me facedown. There, Mommy doctored my bottom while Daddy wiped the tears, drool and snot from my face and distracted me with tender kisses. Someone unhooked by bra, and then covered me with a single sheet. I told them both again how sorry I was and how good I was going to be in the future. Then I reached up and hugged Daddy to show him that there were no hard feelings. I suppose he must have seen my bare boobs when I did that, but just then I was beyond caring about modesty.

They turned out the lights and tiptoed out of my room. My bottom hurt…hurt bad, but I finally cried myself to sleep.

The next day it hurt me some to walk, and hurt big time when I sat down, but I did my best to get my life back to normal.

It was kinda hard to do, but as soon as Daddy got home from work that afternoon, I got him by himself and actually thanked him for my spanking. I got another crushing hug for my effort. I’m glad he didn’t forget and pat me on the bottom like he sometimes does!

By the way, I kept my word by having a serious talk with my brothers and telling them that I had done a really dorky, stupid and dangerous thing and that they should learn from it. Oh yes! I don’t know if my parents would have approved, but I pulled down the back of my PJs and gave the boys a good look at the damage. I figured that would impress them more than anything else.

I am writing this a week later and it still hurts to sit down. Predictably and thankfully, my bottom is rapidly healing. Even after getting SPANKED so hard, I still think I made the right choice. That long restriction would have made me miserable, and inevitably, everyone around me would have been miserable. Emotionally, getting SPANKED just felt to me like the right punishment for my crimes, even at my age. I have promised my parents that I will not touch another drop of alcohol until I am at least 21, and even then there will be no drinking and driving. I intend to keep that promise. It is amazing what can happen when you give a girl a fair choice of punishments.

Copyright Guyspencer 2007

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