Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Asking For It Early

© Guyspencer 2011
“Asking For It Early”

A mother knows these things; Beth knew that something was on her daughter’s mind.  She had noticed it building all weekend, and knew that eventually her daughter would share.  The teen had been on restriction for the last week, and still had five days to go.  Restriction was a hated punishment for Sue, but was also hard on her parents.  Every day Sue had to come home directly from school, change into her PJs and immediately start her homework.  While on restriction, her bedtime was 8 PM, barely after dark.       

Monday afternoon, Sue asked to talk.  Beth took the girl into the kitchen, made them both a cup of herbal tea, and encouraged her to speak her mind.  It took a while, but finally she blurted it out: “This waiting is hell.  Can…can I please have my spanking early? My bottom is all healed from my paddling.” She added hopefully.

Sue had gotten in big trouble at school; cheating.  With her parent’s blessing, the Principal had given her an epic dose of his paddle.  Her bottom was too bruised for her parents to consider a spanking that night, so after a long talk she was sentenced to two weeks of restriction, to be punctuated by a bedtime spanking on the final evening.  Today was only Monday; her restriction wouldn’t be over until Friday.

Beth considered the proposition.  Truth was, the parents also hated the waiting.  They truly hated to spank their darling, and wished that they could have done it immediately so the ordeal wouldn’t be hanging over the family like some Sword of Damocles.     

Beth temporized: “I’ll discuss this with your father.  The waiting is part of your punishment, so we may compensate by making any early spanking a bit harder.  Is that OK?”

Sue gulped, but finally agreed.

“Either way, you’re still on restriction until Friday.” Beth warned.  “Do you still want this?  There won’t be any changing your mind. We don’t negotiate punishments.”

Wide-eyed, Sue agreed.

“OK then” Beth said in a firm tone, “I’ll tell your father that you want your spanking sooner than Friday.  I don’t know what we’ll decide, but be in your bed every night by eight and be ready to be spanked.  It will definitely happen one bedtime between today and Friday, but I don’t know which day.  Until then, this discussion is over.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer that Sue was hoping for, but she hugged her mother and thanked her for listening.  With her mind in a whirl and her abdomen full of butterflies, she went off to do her homework.

Her father arrived from work at the usual time.  In her room, Sue strained her sharp ears for any hint of conversation between her parents.  She heard nothing helpful.

Sue’s parents were grown-up California hippies.  They were slim folks who still ate macrobiotic foods, wore oddly-shaped Birkenstock shoes, and felt vaguely embarrassed by the fat Silicon Valley paychecks their UC Berkeley educations commanded.  Not surprisingly, they held a strange mixture of new age and traditional ideas.  Politically liberal, they were environmentally conscious folks who literally hugged trees, and wouldn’t think of hurting any wild creature.  Their parenting ideas however, were distinctly traditional.  Though kind & gentle people, they took their parenting responsibilities very seriously, especially discipline.  While spankings were rare in Sue’s home, they were always memorable events.   Never spanking in anger, the parents always discussed and mutually agreed before announcing any punishment.  Spankings were always at bedtime, simply because it seemed a tranquil, distraction-free time

Their discussion over, the parents called Sue down to supper.  Both were cheerful, as if nothing had changed.  Sue wanted to ask, but her mother had been clear that questions wouldn’t be welcome.  Besides, part of her was afraid to know.

After supper, Sue helped her mother with dishes.  She tried a hint or two, but was rebuffed.  Back up in her room, Sue finished her homework and readied herself for bed.  This was always the hardest time when she was on restriction because she was allowed none of her usual diversions.  Given the definite possibility of an imminent spanking, today was even worse!

Shortly before 8, she went downstairs to kiss her parents goodnight.  She received friendly hugs as if nothing was different.  Sue went up to her room, turned out the lights, and listened sharply for any parental feet climbing the stairway.  From past experience, she knew that bedtime spankings always happened shortly after “lights out”. 

Heart pounding fiercely, she waited.  Her parent’s usual spanking procedure was to come upstairs shortly after bedtime, turn on the lights, and then deliver a no-nonsense spanking.  Then she would be hugged, forgiven, tears dried, and then lovingly put back to bed. 

But tonight, nothing happened.  When it became obvious that they weren‘t coming tonight, her heart rate gradually diminished.  She felt mixed emotions, disappointment and relief.  Drifting half asleep, she imagined herself bare-bottomed across her father’s lap.  Her hand found a dampness somewhere below her bellybutton.  For a few minutes, her heart resumed its frenetic pounding, as if she were really being spanked.  Shortly later, the exhausted girl fell deeply asleep. 

Tuesday at school felt really strange.  Concentrating seemed impossible.  Was today the day?  Sometimes she felt relieved that she might get her spanking that evening, and sometimes she felt scared and stupid for trying to rush her parents.  The day finally passed; another school day, another day’s homework, another quiet supper with her pleasant but inscrutable parents, another dull evening on restriction, capped by another early bedtime.

By now, Sue had almost concluded that her parents intended to make her wait until Friday, but still the act of turning out the lights and pulling up the blankets gave her a thrill of dread.  Fifteen minutes later, Sue had drifted into that hazy, sexually-charged no-man’s-land between wakefulness and sleep when she heard a stirring outside her bedroom door.    

Her parents crept into the bedroom and turned on the lights.  Sue blinked owlishly. 
The change was almost instantaneous:  From the languor of near sleep, Sue’s entire body went on alert.  Her heart started pounding, blood roared through her ears, and a flock of butterflies attacked her tummy.  Automatically, she threw back the covers and sat up on the edge of her bed.

Mother sat next to Sue and put a comforting arm around her.  “You probably aren’t thrilled just now, but we’re granting your wish.  You get your spanking three days early.”

Suddenly choked up and with tears welling up, Sue managed to squeak in a tiny voice, “OK”.

Mother gave her an answering squeeze, then said, “First, take off those pajamas” 

“I’m…I’m not wearing panties” Sue warned in a vulnerable voice, looking meaningfully at her father.

“Modesty is good” mother said firmly, “but cheating calls for a serious punishment.  They come off.”

Sobbing slightly, Sue relinquished her pajama top, then stood and slid her bottoms to the floor.  She stood before her parents with her newly-blossoming body on display.  Her father squirmed uncomfortably.

Sue stood in the classic pose of the unwillingly-nude maiden.  One arm across her burgeoning breasts, the other hiding her lowest curls.  Both parents thought to make her uncover herself, but both simultaneously came to the same decision:  Their job was to punish Sue, not to heap on extra humiliation.   

The father cleared his throat, “Explain to us why you’re being punished”.

Sue choked out the sad, disgraceful story.

“And why was that wrong?”

 Through increasing sobs, Sue managed a reasonable explanation.

“You explained that pretty well” the father said.  “Is there anything you wish to say before we start?”

Struggling to control her waterworks, Sue shook her head.

Mother crooked a finger at her, “Then let’s start.  I’ll give you a good warm-up spanking.  Then your father will finish your punishment with the hairbrush.”  

For the first time, Sue noticed the waiting hairbrush and fully realized its implication.  She had only felt that hairbrush once before, and was deadly afraid of it. 

Sue lost it.

It took a few minutes for mother to calm Sue down and coax her across her lap.

There’s really nothing special to say about the hand spanking that followed, except that most would consider it far more than just a “warm-up” spanking.  Beth was almost clinical in her thoroughness as she spanked every inch of Sue’s bottom & thighs to a livid shade of red.  Sue did her best to cooperate, but still she screeched and twisted and kicked.  Twice she almost twisted herself off of her mother’s lap, but each time Beth patiently and implacably repositioned her, and then started anew.

Battling conflicting emotions, Father watched the action with increasing unease.  His daughter’s blossoming nude body forcibly reminded him of the first time he had undressed Beth, then his teenaged future wife.  That had been among the most memorable, and most stimulating, events of his life.  As he watched his daughter’s bottom bounce, squirm and redden under her mother’s punishing hand, he was horrified to feel an unwelcome swelling.  He wanted to flee and leave Sue’s punishment to Beth, but feelings of parental responsibility kept him rooted to the spot.  He knew now that he couldn’t take his nude daughter across his lap.  That would be too much like incest.  He needed another plan.        

Finally Beth’s task was over.  Beth rubbed her daughter’s back until her crying diminished, and then helped her to her feet.  Both parents watched with wet eyes as their daughter pranced, sobbed, and rubbed her livid bottom.


As it turned out, Sue’s parents had been happy to grant her request to take her spanking early.  They hated the wait almost as much as she.  However, Sue was never told the story of why she wasn’t spanked until Tuesday.

Sue’s father, Fred, was hardly an experienced spanker.  Uncomfortable with his feelings for his quickly-developing daughter, he greatly preferred to leave Sue’s rare spankings to his wife.  He was even less experienced with the hairbrush.  No weakling, he dared not wield it with his full strength, but was equally afraid of sending the wrong message by spanking too softly.  However, he agreed with his wife that Sue deserved the hairbrush and that it should be him who “did the job”. What to do?

It was Beth who provided the answer that Monday afternoon while the two had been talking.  In an act of sacrifice only a loving mother could make, Beth offered her own bottom for her husband to practice on.

That Monday night, when sure that Sue was asleep, they retired to their bedroom.  Beth disrobed.  Faking a confidence he didn’t really feel, Fred ordered Beth to place her still-nubile body across his lap.  She struggled to hold back her tears as Fred warmed her bottom with a short but energetic hand spanking.  Once her bottom was nicely pink, she carefully buried her face in a pillow while Fred brandished the hairbrush, trapped her legs with one of his, and firmly restrained her torso.  They had agreed on a safety signal so Beth could stop proceedings, but Beth had no plans to use it.        

Steeling himself, Fred raised the hairbrush

While Beth bucked and squealed, Fred laid four scorching spanks on each of his wife’s buttocks, then two firm spanks to each sit spot.

The agreed spanking delivered, and feeling a bit like a bully, Fred comforted his sobbing wife.  After a survey of the “damage” they agreed that Fred’s swing had been sufficiently calibrated.

The mutual “comforting” that followed evolved into the best sex the couple had enjoyed in ages.  Though enjoyable, this sudden connection between sex and spanking served to discomfort Fred even more at the prospect of spanking his teenaged daughter.

But that happened yesterday; now Fred had to deal with today’s drama…  


Finally Sue’s sobbing decreased.  As her senses returned, her eyes focused; focused on that damn brush!  Against her will, her eyes shifted from the brush to her father.  Fred caught the look.  Ready or not, it was time for the father’s part in this spanking.

He held out his arms and she came to him.  He wrapped his arms around her, but mindful of her nakedness, didn’t offer his usual full-body hug.  The result was awkward, but better than nothing.  He stared into her face; partly to assure her attention, and partly so he wouldn’t look at her body. “Are you ready to finish this?” he asked.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Spankings are for punishment” he said “but it’s also the way we teach you important lessons that you demonstrate you need.  What’s today’s lesson?” 

“D…d…don’t cheat?”

“That’s good” Father agreed, “But ‘cheating doesn’t pay’ is better.  It’s not just cheating in school, but all kinds of cheating, such as cheating at your job, or cheating in relationships.  All kinds of cheating can lead to trouble.  Honesty is almost always better.”

“So what’s tonight’s lesson?”

“Cheating doesn’t pay.” Sue replied dutifully.
“Good” Father enthused, “And just to help remind you of that lesson, we’ll fix your bottom so that you feel a bit of pain whenever you sit for the next few days.  Whenever you feel that pain, that’s your cue to remember tonight’s lesson, OK?”

Without enthusiasm, Sue agreed.

Father swallowed hard, picked up the hairbrush, and continued.  “OK, assuming you cooperate, this can be over quickly.  Your bottom is nice and red, but I intend to add some hairbrush marks that you’ll feel for the next few days.”

Resigned to her fate, Sue started to bend over her father’s lap, but he stopped her.

“No.  Let’s do this another way” he said quickly.

Standing, he rearranged the pillows on Sue’s bed, and then motioned her onto it.  “Lay down on your bed with your knees under you.  Now hug this pillow and don’t let go.”

Fred picked up the hairbrush and looked at his daughter.  This position, with her bare bottom jutting into the air, hid some of her charms but accentuated others.   It would have to do.

“The better you cooperate, the sooner we’ll be done.  So try to hold that position.”

“SPLAT” the hairbrush made an amazingly loud sound as it collided with Sue’s right buttock.  She gasped and rocked forward, but grimly stayed in place.

Deliberately, the father delivered 15 more scorching blows to Sue’s bottom, each hard enough to leave a lasting brush-shaped mark.  He distributed them evenly, five to each cheek, three to each sit spot.  By the time he was done, Sue was shrieking into her pillow and her bottom was a study in motion.  

It took the parents another 30 minutes to tend to their daughter.  They had to calm her, kiss away her tears, remake her bed, and tuck her in. Finally, reluctantly they left after lingering hugs and kisses.  Freshly spanked and freshly forgiven, Sue would shed a few last tears into her pillow before drifting off into endorphin-assisted slumber.


Downstairs, the couple unwound over a modest Napa Chardonnay.  Fred was unusually quiet.  Beth hadn’t missed Fred’s erection while she had been spanking Sue, and guessed his inner turmoil.  She brought up the subject obliquely; “That was really hard for you wasn’t it Fred?”

“You have no idea.” he groused. 

“Mixed emotions…right?”

Fred thought for a moment: “Yes, you could say that.”

“Sue’s really filling out…right?  Sort of reminds you of how I looked a few years ago?”

“Well yes:” Fred said, “now that you mention it.”

“Fred” she purred, “You’re a great father, but your brain is hard-wired in a very male way.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  When something triggers that ancient mating impulse, just direct that extra sexual energy towards your wife, and we’ll both win.” 

Just then, he realized that Beth’s hand was busy in his lap.  He returned the favor. 
Soon they were necking and kissing deeply.  Shortly thereafter, they retired to their bedroom.  In their private haven, Beth had one more surprise for Fred.  Naked, she crawled across his lap and encouraged him to try a new experience, an erotic spanking.

The idea was an instant hit.       

Return To GuySpencer Index    

Reptile Dysfunction (F/M)

© Guyspencer 2011
“Reptile Dysfunction”

From Wikipedia: “In the winter of 2008, large numbers of feral iguanas in Florida dropped from the trees in which they lived, due to uncommonly cold nights causing them to go dormant, losing their grip on the tree branches. Though no specific numbers were provided by local wildlife officials, local media described the phenomenon as a "frozen iguana shower" in which dozens "littered" local bike paths. Upon the return of daytime warmth many (but not all) of the iguanas "woke up"…”


When Lynn and Joe first spotted a large colorful lizard near their neighborhood, they thought it was “neat” and “cute”.  A few years later then the reptiles (which they learned were Iguanas) multiplied and became pests, their attitude was far different.  Blimp, a three-foot-long Iguana, took up residence in their yard and defended it against all comers, including against Lynn and Joe themselves.   Living mostly in their sea grape tree, Blimp took great delight in eating plants from Lynn’s garden, and using the couple’s swimming pool as his private toilet.  Although they tried various methods to discourage Blimp, the couple gradually ceded their back yard to the unwelcome and persistent reptile.  Oh sure, they tried calling Animal Control, but they deal with domestic animals, not wild ones.

All this seemed to change in the cold winter of 2008 when Joe walked outside one cold morning to find Blimp lying dead under the tree.  Joe went running into the house to tell Lynn the good news.  In her practical feminine manner, Lynn asked “What are you planning to do with him?” 

“Don’t know” Joe replied after a moment’s thought, “I’ll figure it out after I come home from work.” 

Lynn bristled, “Oh no you won’t, I want that thing gone.  You go bury him behind the garage while I call your office to tell them you’ll be a few minutes late.”  Knowing better than to argue, Joe agreed.  He went outside to find a shovel and get to work.  

A remarkably short time later, Joe found Lynn in the laundry room.  After a kiss and a hug, he told her that Blimp was “taken care of” and he was on his way to work.

“You got him buried already?” Lynn asked in surprise.

“Err…yes” Joe replied, “You know how easy it is to dig in this Florida sand.”  Perhaps Lynn should have questioned him closer, but she was anxious to get back to her laundry.  Relieved and only slightly late, Joe went to work.

Lynn had several loads of laundry to do, so it was several hours before she finally grabbed the keys to her car and went off shopping.  By then, the sun was high and the day was pleasantly warm.

All was fine until two hours later when Lynn returned from her shopping trip with a bag of groceries in her hand.  Her path from the drive to the back door of the house took her by the trash cans.  She heard a thump.   

She stopped, with a puzzled frown on her face.

Then she heard it again…and again.

Quickly, she traced the noise to a trash can.  Remembering the time a neighborhood cat got trapped in their trash, she thoughtlessly worked the snug lid off the metal can.  Instantly, a 6-foot-long alligator sprang from the can and leaped at Lynn.   With visions of hundreds of sharp teeth in her head, poor Lynn screamed, dropped her groceries, and ran for her life.

When the “alligator” outdistanced her and headed for the tree, Lynn finally came to her senses.  It wasn’t a 6-foot gator; it was a 3-foot iguana!  Specifically, it was a newly, and very energetically resurrected Blimp. 

Forgetting her groceries, Lynn stumbled into the house and poured herself a stiff drink.  As her heart rate gradually returned to normal, Lynn recalled the unusually quick work that Joe had made of Blimp’s “internment”, and his assurance that the job had really been done.  She realized that Joe had merely ditched Blimp in the trash and fibbed to her about digging a hole.  In the warm can, Blimp had thawed and came back to life.  As she finished off her drink, Lynn’s thoughts turned to the couple’s “Spencer” spanking agreement.     

It wasn’t hard to find, it was framed on their bedroom wall.  Top among the “List of Causes” was “Any deliberate lie”.

From memory, she recalled Dorothy Spencer’s instructions; “If the husband is to be whipped, he is directed to go to his room and get ready for the punishment.  He must obey without a word of complaint and without uttering a word of argument.  He should undress, then stretch out full length on the bed, face-downwards.  He must wait in this position until his wife enters the room.”

She heard Joe’s car pull into the drive.  Moments later, he walked in the door and inquired about the scattered groceries.

(Ten minutes later)

Uncomprehending, Blimp could clearly hear the sounds of a bare-bottom whipping from his comfortable perch in the tree. 

Tuesday, August 02, 2011

Cutting the Cards

© Guyspencer 2011
Cutting the Cards

It’s the 1950’s in small-town west Texas.  Most students in Westview High School come from modest homes on modest farms and ranches.  Most have several brothers and sisters, and most deal with livestock daily.  Resultantly, the basics of reproduction and the anatomical differences between genders are no mystery to them.  Knowing this, perhaps it won’t seem so strange that teachers in Westview High were empowered, (required actually) to give the occasional bare-bottom paddling in front of their mixed-gender classrooms.  


As Mr. Kane droned on with his lesson, he observed his class through his deceptively sleepy looking eyes.  He pretended not to notice as Lynn Taylor looked around with that special guilty-nervous look of a student who is about to break a rule. 

As he continued his history lecture, he saw Lynn pick up a pencil.  He doubted that she suddenly felt motivated to take notes.  She wrote in tiny letters on one corner of a paper, and then tore the corner off.  His heart beating faster, Mr. Kane carefully avoided looking directly at his prey.

He waited until she had the note neatly folded and secreted in her left hand before suddenly calling her name.  He almost smiled when she started guiltily. 

He asked pleasantly; “Lynn, would you come up to the board please”?  The teacher watched carefully to see if she ditched the note.  The girl put on an innocent expression and walked towards the board.

As Lynn tried to pass his desk, Mr. Kane’s hand shot out and grabbed her left arm.  “May I see what’s in that hand please?” he asked.

Knowing she was busted, the girl sheepishly gave up the note.

“You have a simple choice” the teacher said, “I can fill out a referral slip and send you and this evidence to the Assistant Principal’s office for a sure thing, or you can take your chances with the cards.”     

The “sure thing” Mr. Kane was talking about was a bare bottom paddling from Mr. Foster, the school’s stern AP.  For Lynn, that would mean another “sure thing”; a note home and a strapping from her father.

“I’ll take the cards.” She replied. 

The choice had actually been simple.  The single advantage of being punished by the AP was that the process was comparatively private.  “The cards” meant a probable paddling in front of the class, perhaps even a bare-bottom paddling.  But unlike Mr. Foster, teachers were limited to six swats and seldom sent notes home.  This way, it would all be over in five minutes.  


“The cards” had been the invention of a previous Principal.  Somehow, the idea appealed to the fun-loving Texas culture.  The teachers liked the concept because it protected them from being accused of discrimination.  The school’s strict rules mostly decided who got punished, and “the cards” decided if an in-class paddling was done over clothing, over underwear, or on the bare.  The teacher only had to decide the number of paddle strokes.

The school board had actually paid to have the special decks of cards printed and distributed to all teachers.  Each deck had 33 cards.  Ten cards each were printed with “Clothed”, “Underwear” or “Bare”.  To add an element of fun and mercy, the final three cards said “Get Off Free”.  Obviously, the errant student’s fate rested on which card he or she happened to draw.


Mr. Kane opened his top drawer and drew out his paddle and the deck of cards.  He offered the deck to Lynn.  “Do you want to check the deck before we start?” he asked solicitously.

“No sir” Lynn said nervously, “I trust you”.

He shuffled professionally, and then laid the deck on his desk.  “In that case, cut the deck and show me your bottom card” he ordered.

With her eyes screwed tightly shut and her fingers crossed, Lynn reached down and pinched the top half of the deck.  Eyes still shut; she showed the bottom card to Mr. Kane.

“Show it to the class” he ordered, barely able to keep the pleasure out of his voice. 

She turned and flashed the card towards the class.  There was an excited murmur.

“You can look at it now” he suggested.

With trepidation, Lynn opened her eyes and swiveled her wrist to bring the card into view.  Instantly, her eyes filled with tears.  The card said “Bare”.

“OK you know the rules” Mr. Kane said in a businesslike tone as he cleared papers from his desk.  “Lower everything down below your knees, and then get into position.

Like most girls in that school, Lynn was wearing a skirt, so lowering everything wasn’t a problem.  Girls that happened to be wearing dresses when they pulled the “Bare” or “Underwear” card either had to hike them over their shoulders or doff them completely.

Standing in front of Mr. Kane’s desk and with her back to the class, Lynn unhooked her skirt and dropped it to the floor.  After an apprehensive glance at Mr. Kane, she lowered her panties to just below her knees.  Without further instructions, she laid herself across the desk, her bare bottom jutting out towards the expectant class.

Although he carefully kept a severe look on his face, Mr. Kane was in his glory.  At 16, Lynn was among the better developed girls in her class.  Although he was doing his job exactly the way the school board wanted it done, there was no harm in a bit of secret enjoyment…right?

Although Mr. Kane was still young enough to sometimes let his hormones do his thinking for him, he wasn’t a mean person.  He didn’t give her the full six strokes that he was allowed.  The school’s standard paddle was heavy enough to seriously hurt when applied to a protected bottom.  On a bare bottom, he considered four to be plenty.

He delivered them slowly, one bruiser to each of Lynn’s perfect nether cheeks, one across the divide, and the final blow down low.  The girl squealed, sobbed and danced a bit in place, but otherwise held her position bent over the desk.  Unable to hold her legs still, Lynn’s panties slipped down to her ankles, and then off to the floor.  In the process, the poor girl showed her all to the class.  Of course, the boys all sat up and paid rapt attention, but none would even bother mentioning the incident later.  After all, it could be any of them taking their chances with that same deck of cards tomorrow, or even in the next class.

The prescribed punishment delivered, Mr. Kane quietly told Lynn to get dressed, and then he settled down in his chair to watch the show.  Eyes wet and puffy, nose running, tears running down her face, the girl stood up, rubbed ruefully a few times and then looked around for her panties.   With no graceful way to get dressed, she kept her back to the class as she bent over to retrieve her panties and then step into them.  Mr. Kane enjoyed the show from the front, while the boys in the class got a bonus rear view.  Finally, she restored her skirt to its rightful place, made her way back to her desk, and sat down with elaborate caution.

Doubtless this all seems strange and unbelievable to you, but this was just another normal day at Westview High.  The point to the school’s rigid discipline was to make law- abiding citizens out of these potentially wild prairie children.  In this, the school mostly succeeded. 

Lynn’s paddling was successful in more ways than one.  First, she got the message:  She had much more respect for the school’s rules from that day on.  It was her last time across any teacher’s desk. 

More importantly, there was a boy in her class who took special notice of her charms.  Wanting exclusive access to that wonderful bottom he had glimpsed, the future ranch owner lovingly pursued Lynn until their marriage three years later.  Their life together was prosperous, exciting, loving, and fruitful.

Monday, August 01, 2011

Take Off Your Panties (M/f)

© Guyspencer 2011
“Take Off Your Panties”

“Take off your panties,” that’s what he said!  I never expected to hear those words from my own father.  To be fair though, I’m sure he never expected that phone call to fetch me from jail nor ever expected his own daughter to be charged with a crime.  They don’t call it “shoplifting” these days.  Somehow, “larceny” sounds even worse.  I’m not a bad girl; really!  I’m 16 and have never been in real trouble before, and this won’t ever happen again; honest!  Let’s just call today’s little spur-of-the-moment idiocy “temporary insanity”.  Of course, that won’t stop me from paying the price!


Dad was quiet on the way home.  I tried talking to him, but he just shushed me up.  At home, he finally talked.  “What were you thinking Eve?” he roared.  I admitted that I hadn’t been thinking at all.  I tried some feminine tears on him, but to no effect!

Finally his temper seemed to leave him.  He led me to a familiar living room corner, one I hadn’t spent time in for almost two years.  Just like the old days, he collected my top, pants and shoes, leaving me standing in the corner clad only in bra & panties.  “I need to cool down and think about your punishment” he announced.  “Whatever I decide will surely involve a red bottom.  Until then, keep your face in this corner!”    

I guess he went to his bedroom for a while, because I heard nothing for what seemed like an hour, but was probably half that.  Then he came back into the living room to offer me not only a bathroom break, but the glorious luxury of a hard wooden stool.  I was happy for the stool, have you ever stood in one place for a long time?  It’s torture!   

Then the stool and I spent another long, quiet time in that damn corner.

Finally, I heard my younger brother Randy arrive home.  I don’t know if he saw me, but he went upstairs to his room.  I think Daddy must have followed him upstairs, because I heard extra feet on the stairway.  Later, I definitely heard some voices up there.

A few minutes later, I heard stirrings behind me.  And then I heard furniture moving.  I desperately wanted to look, but didn’t dare.  It’s been a long time since I was in trouble, but I remember the rules! 

Finally Dad spoke.  His voice was sad.  “You remember that I’ve threatened both you and Randy with the belt several times…right?”

“Yes Daddy” I replied.  A horrible fear instantly settled inside my chest, making it hard to breathe.  I dreaded Daddy’s next words!

“You may not know,” he continued, “that I’ve always been proud to never actually need to use my belt on either you or your brother to make you mind…”

I guessed his next words, but I was praying to be wrong!

“Until today.” He said heavily

Damn!  He said it!

I don’t know if I was sadder because I had disappointed my father or because he planned to strap me for the first time ever, but I sobbed like a baby.

When I finally calmed a little, Daddy told be to stand up.  I felt the stool go away.

Then he said it!  He said those words I will never forget; “Take off your panties.”

Forgetting myself, I turned to him in astonishment.  Then it got even worse!  Looking past Daddy, I saw my little brother Randy sitting on the couch.  He looked like he didn’t really want to be there, but there he was.

“Turn back into that corner,” Daddy ordered.  “The belt works best on a bare bottom.  You’re lucky I’m letting you keep your bra.  Now take off those panties!    

Squatting a bit, and then balancing on one leg then the other, I took the panties off.

“Drop them right there in the corner” he ordered.  “Then turn around.”

Reluctantly, I turned.  There was an armless kitchen chair sitting in the middle of the living room floor.  From sad previous experience, I knew why it was there.  Randy was looking at me.  More precisely, he was looking somewhere below my bellybutton.  He didn’t look happy, but that didn’t stop him from getting an eye full. 

Randy and I have always seen each other get spanked, sometimes spanked bare.  But in the past, “getting it bare” only meant that Daddy pulled our undies down in back..  I haven’t seen Randy’s “front” since he was a baby, and I think he’s seeing mine for the first time right now.  This is mortifying!

I wanted to use both hands to hide my privates, but something held me back.  I figured that having my panties off was part of my punishment, so trying to cover myself would be like putting my hand “back there” to stop a spanking.  It would just irritate Daddy and make things worse.

Dad sat down in the chair and crooked a finger at me.  Next thing I knew, he was hugging me.  Did he just clear his throat, or was that a sob?  Whatever, he clearly didn’t look delighted to be spanking me.

Finally, with his hands on my shoulders, he looked me straight in the eye.  “First you’re going over my lap for a long spanking, and then you will bend over the arm of that easy chair.”  (He pointed to a chair that had been moved away from the wall.)  “And then,” (he choked a bit) “…I’ll take off my belt and bruise your bottom with it.”

Sadly, reluctantly, he guided me over his lap. 


Hello.  I’m Randy.  Eve calls me “little brother” but actually I’m 14.  Eve says her memory of her spanking & whipping are just sort of a “red hot blur”.  Since I saw it happen, she asked me to describe that part of her punishment for you, and also to tell my thoughts at the time.  The problem is; my thoughts are sort of embarrassing!  Eve reminded me that sharing my thoughts isn’t near as embarrassing as what happened to her, and I can’t argue with that.  So here’s the whole truth, even the embarrassing parts:  

I was shocked when Daddy told Eve to take off her panties.  I couldn’t believe that he would let me see her that way.  Then she obeyed, she dropped her panties!  Hey, a bottom is a bottom; but Eve’s looked softer and rounder than any bottom I’ve seen before. 

OK, here’s the first embarrassing part: When Daddy told her to turn around; I saw my very first real-life vagina.  It wasn’t exactly what I expected.  It was just a sort of slit that you could barely see through her hair.  We have sex education at school so I’ve seen the diagrams, but somehow I was expecting something more hole-like.  I’m afraid I stared.

Dad hugged her and talked to her for a bit before he put her across his lap.  I knew she was in for a good spanking, but she was also getting the belt!  Neither of us has ever been strapped.  This is a dangerous precedent!

Of course, I knew what sort of spanking Eve was in for, because I’ve been in that same position myself too many times, and I recognized that look in Daddy’s eyes.

I had a perfect view because Daddy had strategically placed the chair so that I couldn’t help but stare straight at Eve’s butt.  Before he started, he told me: “This lesson is for you too, so watch and learn.  Folks from this family aren’t thieves!”  

And then the spanking started.  Instantly there were handprints on Eve’s formerly pale bottom.  As the spanking continued, the handprints merged into two big red ovals, and then the ovals started to move vigorously!  Eve knew I was back there watching, so that’s probably why she kept her legs together for so long.  But eventually her legs started to kick anyhow.  And that’s when I started getting glimpses; glimpses of things I hadn’t expected to see until I got older.   

Now the second embarrassing part:  A guy isn’t supposed to get “turned on” by his own sister…right?  Well I got hard; so hard that it hurt.  That left me confused.

Of course, Eve was making the usual noises that a person makes when getting spanked.  First, it was noises like “Oooo” and “Ouch” and “Ahhh”.  Then she started begging and apologizing, and promising that “it would never happen again”.  Then the tears started.  Her sobs turned to outright bawling, which turned into a sort of shriek.  By now, Daddy had spanked her beet red from the top of her butt, way down past her sit spot.  Then he stopped to look for places he had missed.

Then he did what he always does for a really hard spanking.  He spied her tender, unspanked inner thighs.  When he ordered her to “open up”, she knew exactly what was coming.  She begged, but Daddy didn’t relent.  With a bit of encouragement from some extra spanks, Eve finally opened up her legs, but not far enough for Daddy.  He made her open them as far as they would go.

Of course, I could se her butthole, but there’s nothing special about that.  What really impressed me was the part just below.  I was surprised to be able to see Eve’s “thing” from behind!  From this angle, her hair didn’t hide much.  Obviously this was far more than just a hole.  There were slick folds of skin, guarding the entrance to a mysterious portal that must envelope a guy’s penis and send him into the stratosphere.  I realized that I was looking at a whole “pleasure system” created by nature just for guys.  Having seen a glimpse of heaven, I will never look at a girl the same way again.  

Poor Eva shrieked and kicked as Daddy spanked her inner thighs.  I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t enjoying his duty.  Finally, Daddy turned his attention back to her butt for a few last very hard spanks.  By now, Eva was exhausted and limp. 

The first part of her punishment over, Daddy kept her over his lap for a time.  He rubbed her back and spoke gently to her as she regained her breath and wits.  Finally, he helped her to her feet.  Her tears started anew when she automatically reached back to rub her livid bottom.  Obviously forgetting about me, she danced a bit in place, giving me yet another new view of her private bits. 

Daddy spoke gravely and resolutely, “I know your bottom really hurts right now, but by tomorrow you wouldn’t feel anything unusual.  This next part is to give you a reminder of today’s lesson whenever you sit down for the next few days.  Bend over the arm of that chair now.”

Eve at first didn’t seem to comprehend, but then her face fell as she remembered what was next.  New tears started, but she obediently walked to the chair and bent over it, presenting her bare bottom for Daddy’s belt.

“Randy, come here where you can see.” he commanded, “You need to learn this lesson so I only need do this once.”  I didn’t really want to, but this was no time to argue.  I moved behind Eve.  I had a good view, but stayed a safe distance from that evil belt.    

The belt made a sound like a rattlesnake when Daddy pulled it out from around his waist.  I saw Eve jump in fear.  I didn’t blame her!

This was probably the first time Daddy had ever spanked anyone with a belt, but he did a good job!  He wrapped part of the belt around his hand.  With one hand restraining her back, he slashed the belt down on Eve’s already-red bottom.   She screamed and bucked, but managed to stay in place.  I counted; he gave her sixteen spanks with that belt.  I guess it was one for each year of her age?   Three times he had to coax her to remove her hand from her bottom so he could continue.  I was afraid that he would ask me to help hold her, but he soldered on.  He covered her whole bottom with belt marks, concentrating mostly on the lower half.  She won’t sit comfortably for days!  Some belt marks went so low that she won’t be wearing anything short for awhile.   

When it was over I saw real tears in Daddy’s eyes.  He helped her up, then sat down in the chair and pulled Eve right into his lap.  He held her for a long time and rocked her while they both had a good cry. 

When they had both calmed down, he calmly explained to her that she was on restriction “until further notice”, and that she had some “letter writing to do”.  As he escorted her to her bedroom, a strange thing happened.  Eve started to pick up her panties from the corner, but Daddy stopped her.  “No,” he said, “They stay there.  They’ll make a great reminder.”  Those panties, left in the corner of our usually neat living room for all to see, would turn out to be quite an embarrassment to my sister. 

Through it all, I avoided teasing my sister or doing anything to make the incident worse for her.  You see, I’m no angel.  I get into trouble regularly.  I’m afraid that someday my underpants will spend time in that same corner!

Hello, I’m Stanley, Eve’s father.  I’m really proud of Randy’s writing!  He gave such a good account of Eve’s spanking, there isn’t much for me to add except that I really hated to do that to her.  Unfortunately, it was my clear parental duty.  Unpleasant as it was (especially for Eve) I think both Eve and Randy learned a useful and lifelong lesson.  As their only parent (their mother died a few years ago) I felt I had to act. 

After the spanking, and after I had dried most of Eve’s tears and hugged her and told her I loved her, we had a serious little talk about her situation.  Naturally, she was still in legal trouble, but I was starting to form a plan to fix that. 

For now, I put her on restriction.  She took that news rather well, but I still reminded her of the rules.  Restriction in our house is no picnic.  The rules are strict.  We don’t have a mommy around the house to help enforce the rules, so I give no second chances.  You violate restriction, you get spanked!

 Next I told her to write two letters of apology, one to the store manager and one to the judge.  Both letters were to describe her punishment in graphic detail. 

Then I led her to her bedroom.  She was still a bit shaky.  She started to grab her panties from the corner, but I stopped her.  That was to be another part of her punishment.  For now, they would stay right there to serve as a silent reminder.

In the bedroom she laid face-down on the bed.  The father of a teen cherishes these rare moments when she “needs her daddy”.  We talked for a bit, and then I kissed her and unhooked her little bra.  Then I covered my naked and well-spanked little girl with a sheet and tucked her in for the night.   I sat on edge of her bed and rubbed her back until she was fast asleep, and then crept out of her room.

My next job was to extract Eve’s case from the legal system.

We visited the store manager the next day.  It was a difficult meeting.  He told us straight out that he had no intention of dropping the charges.  Eve tearfully apologized to him, but he bristled, quite unmoved.  Then I asked him to read the letter.  He did, and then looked up, seeming to realize why Eve was squirming in her seat.  “I’ll show you clear evidence that she has been sufficiently punished if that’s necessary” I offered.  Both he and Eve blushed at the thought. 

“No” he said reluctantly.  “I’m convinced.  Since the police say she has a clear record, I suppose we can drop the charges this once.”

We sent the judge a similar letter.  I managed to get him on the phone a few days later.  Yes, the store manager was dropping the charges, but the judge still wanted to see Eve in court.  I agreed.  He put us on the docket for the next week.  I had to take time off work, but it was a good experience for Eve.  The Judge gave her a good “talking to”, and then dropped all charges.  She will have no record.

At home things were tense, as they always are when someone is on restriction.  It had been two years since Eve’s last restriction.  She said she remembered the rules, but it was only two days before she screwed up.  I walked into the house after work, and found her on the telephone!  I really think it was sort of a “rookie mistake”.  Apparently the phone rang, and she picked it up out of habit.  It happened to be a friend, so she forgot herself and talked.  When she saw the look on my face, she realized what she was doing.  In horror, she said “Bye” and hung up the phone.  She tried to explain, but like I told you, I accept no explanations. 

“Any reason why we shouldn’t deal with this right now?” I asked.

“My bottom’s still really sore,” she replied, somewhat lamely.

“I’m honestly sorry, but that’s you’re fault.” I replied. 

She was wearing the required “restriction uniform” of just pajamas, so that simplified matters somewhat.  “Let’s start by taking off your PJ bottoms.” I suggested.

“I’m, I’m not wearing anything under them.” she warned.

“Yes, I assumed that.” I assured her.  “Don’t worry; we’ve seen it all before.”

Reluctantly, she lowered her pants and stepped out of them.  I gave her permission to use the bathroom.  Next she was to get Randy, and then place a spanking chair in the living room.  I must admit, my little girl looked fetching running around with her bare bottom showing.

With the three of us in the living room, I made her stand in front of Randy and explain to him why she was about to be spanked.  Then she assumed the time-honored position across my lap, with her bottom facing her brother.

The spanking was short, but it was hard and fast.  She squealed cried, kicked and scissored her legs right from the beginning.  Her already-marked bottom quickly took on a brilliant red hue.  My intent was to reignite every nerve on her bottom, and doubtless I succeeded.  She was a sorry girl.

Naturally, that kinetic display of his sister’s most private anatomy held Randy’s attention, but not the rapt, ardent attention of Eve’s last spanking.  I realized that I should have satisfied my children’s curiosity about their respective bodies long ago.  Now I see that during their spankings is a natural time to accomplish that.  So right then, I resolved that the next time Randy earned himself a serious spanking, his underpants will be in the corner, and Eve will get the impromptu anatomy lesson.  

But that will be another story.