Thursday, February 23, 2012


© Guyspencer 2012


SPANKED!  I'm going to get SPANKED!  And it was even my idea…at least sort of my idea...   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...until today.  It's 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 soon I'm going to get SPANKED!


Yesterday was the last day of school before spring break so 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 would be over at 11 sharp, plus it was close.

Becky’s parents were watching way too closely 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 sneaked 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 behind on his pizza orders so it took a while to get our pizza.

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 wouldn't 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 turned 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 hoped that would be the end and that I’d be off to bed; but then 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 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, and the two must never mix.

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 couldn't 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 my punishment.  

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 a delay in 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's amazing how sometimes parents can have a whole conversation together 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's what you want Honey?  We're 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 roller coaster and you're 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 chose a spanking 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 hoped to talk me out of it.

And then he said I had to make up my mind right then and there, and that I wouldn’t be allowed to change my decision.  Otherwise, he said, 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 churned and I could hear my heart hammering in my ears.  Half of me was afraid that Daddy would spank me right now, but the other half was afraid he would make me wait.

As it turned out, I had to wait.  Daddy wasn't 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 wasn’t officially on restriction, I should stay 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 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, mom had confiscated my car keys and 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 had 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 she 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’s a big guy with thick arms and very strong hands.  There's 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 potential use.  You can guess what that is!  I've never felt that belt myself, (though I once heard my brother’s get it) but I’m terribly afraid that today is the day!

Another thing that I’m afraid of is my panties.  Specifically, I’m afraid of being separated from them.  I am almost 18 and, if I do say so myself, I look like a woman.  So 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 clean work pants.  My throat went dry at that sight.  That “dual purpose” belt was right there around his waist.  Surely 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 vibes all day, but still didn’t 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’s going to be a family meeting later.”

After supper, I escaped to my room.  I was so nervous that I had to do something, so I dialed Emily.  She could tell that something was wrong and tried to pump me for details, but the most I told her was that I was “In trouble” over last night’s activity.


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 about me.  By now, the boys knew that neither of them was in trouble, so that left me.    

In our family 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 aren't 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 drank 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 “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 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 sort of hero for enduring my 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 shouldn’t 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'll do our part by making sure that they hear you get well-punished, but over the next few days we need you to ensure they really get the message.” 

Well, I agreed, but it wasn’t lost on me that I had also agreed that I needed to be “well-punished”.   Unavoidably, I found myself looking at Dad’s belt and wondering if I would 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 the details of your spanking, and then I'll meet with you in your room to do it.”  I hugged them, 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.  By now, 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 that's 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 monster that lived inside my belly and 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.  Fortunately 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 his words.  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 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 “the plan”.  Our punishment has been discussed and decided and Daddy is there to lovingly but very firmly apply it.  We kids are just expected to take it as gracefully as possible.

Daddy said that he wished he could avoid this, and would have preferred the detention over spanking me.  However, “Under the circumstances” he must “do a very good job”.  Further, he would have to “treat me just like he would one of the boys.”  (On hearing that, I got this weird vision of my panties sprouting wings and flying off without me.)  This was just his gentle way of telling me that I wasn't done undressing for this spanking. 

Then he told me what was in store for me, “The only good news I have for you is that we narrowly decided against using the belt.  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 could 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, “Mom is in their bedroom, so there's no way they can peek in at us.”  Though I hated that “open door” part, there was no point in arguing.  

At that point, I just lost it!  My 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 was all suddenly too much.  Everything just bubbled to the surface.  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's strange! As Daddy 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 a 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.  Besides, he didn’t seem to mind.  I was almost afraid to slow down my sobbing, because then Daddy will suggest that we “get it over with”.  That’s parent talk that means “let’s go ahead now and strip off your panties and spank your bare bottom until you cry and kick and scream.”       

Finally my sobbing slowed down a bit and he asked, “Do you feel 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 being spanked.  Since then, he always asks before spanking any of us kids.  I always find that question embarrassing because it reminds me of that time when it happened, but I especially was embarrassed today because suddenly I 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.”

I walked out into the hallway, (leaving my door open as ordered) and wasn't surprised to see my brother’s door open also.  From inside, I could hear mother’s voice.  She was probably lecturing them about alcohol while they all waited to hear my spanking.  Fortunately, I didn't have to pass their open door to reach the bathroom.  They normally see me in bra and panties, but right now I somehow felt naked.

Sitting on the toilet with my panties down, I was momentarily tempted to just kick them off to get it over with.  But no, I would cling to them for every second I could!  I finished my business, wiped carefully, and lifted them back 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 I really need to do a good job.  Please don’t hate me for hurting your bottom.”  I almost lost it again, but I choked back and promised that I wouldn't hate him. 

“Thanks Honey,” he said.  After a last hug he released me then sat down purposely.  (He had earlier turned the chair to face the door.)  After an appraising look, he finally said, “You can keep the bra, but I 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 encouraged me; “It’s OK honey, I’ve seen it all before.  Let’s just have this over.”   I guess I nodded, so he kinda relaxed.

This wasn't one of my better moments!  Not wanting to flash my bush at either Daddy or the open door, I turned sideways and reluctantly bared myself.  As I was trying to get my feet out of them, I got tangled and nearly fell.  Daddy caught me by the waist and held me as I kicked off my panties.  He didn’t let go, but just lifted me across his knees as if I were a rag doll.  I don’t think he even saw my front in the process!  I'm taller than I used to be, so he carefully adjusted me so that my toes were just barely off the ground.  Unfortunately, that made my head hang down so close to the floor that I had to support myself with my hands.  He took my right hand and trapped it behind me.  What a sight I must have been with my nearly 18 year-old bottom shining up at my bedroom ceiling!  Untouched by the sun, it was bright white, but only temporarily so.

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

I didn't know it, but my parents had plotted a nasty little surprise for me.  Normally, father starts with “warm-up” spanks.  That is, he starts a spanking with light little slaps and then gradually dials up the heat.  That sort of prepares your bottom for the worst part, and makes a hard spanking a bit easier to take.    I expected Daddy to start out that way.  I had figured that I could “tough out” at least that part of the spanking and display a few moments of cool before I faced the disgrace of bawling and screeching.

But without the slightest warning, Daddy started spanking me with full force!  At first it surprised me so much that it literally knocked the air out of me, but then I was finally able to gasp a couple breaths between spanks.  Only then did I manage 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 succeeded!  I thrashed, I kicked, I squealed, and I screamed, but nothing did me the slightest good.  Daddy just held me in that iron grip and continued to calmly “do his fatherly duty” to my quickly reddening bare ass, exactly as 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 can't 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 fast, and absolutely left Daddy in control. 

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 fell.  That trick 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 the spanks around; leaving marks in places that will keep me in long pants for weeks. 

Daddy didn't bother restraining my legs, but 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 my legs 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 should see. 

Although I mostly remember my burning bottom, it's 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 of my spanking.  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 me to notice that Daddy was still holding me down, so my punishment must not be over yet.  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're not quite done,” he announced.  “You've 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 feel 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 ended that notion.   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've 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 reflexive (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 face down.  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 would be in the future.  Then I reached up and hugged Daddy to show 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 badly, but I finally cried myself to sleep. 

The next day it hurt me some to walk, and hurt big time when I sat, 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'm 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've promised my parents that I won't 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's amazing what can happen when you give a girl a fair choice of punishments.

© Guyspencer 2012

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

One in Ten

© Guyspencer 2012

One in Ten
It’s a memorably bad time at the Hepburn Preparatory School.  Last Saturday, the entire student body had been bussed to a rival school for a soccer game. The game seemed to go against Hepburn from the very start.  To the Hepburn students, it seemed like the officials were working for the opposing team!  Finally, when the officials made one particularly egregious ruling,  the whole class rushed the field.  The result was a near-riot.  The Headmaster spent the next day in his quarters totally humiliated by the actions of his student body.  This is a major blow to the school’s reputation, perhaps a blow bad enough to reverse the school’s recent rising fortunes.  Naturally, Hepburn’s board Chairman demanded action.

Two years ago, due to decreasing enrollment this small 6th form Pre-U boarding school had been forced to go co-ed to survive.  Not coincidentally, the board hired a highly qualified Deputy Headmaster, Elene Jasper.  Thanks largely to Ms. Jasper, the change went remarkably smoothly, and was very good for the school.  Both male and female enrollments quickly increased.  Females now represent about 25% of the student body.

Hepburn isn’t a school for everybody.  It’s brochure says it’s students learn in “a supportive atmosphere of structure and discipline.”  Both students and parents must sign on to Hepburn’s strict discipline rules, which, unusually for six-formers, includes corporal punishment.  Still, the school is known for its excellent results, even for students with a troubled past.

With the change to a co-ed school, the board did a complete review of its disciplinary rules and procedures.  There was great debate, but in the end only three new rules were added.   Naturally, the first prohibited unsupervised fraternizing between students of opposite gender.  The second, mandated two male and two female Prefects.  The third, Rule #36, specified that the school’s disciplinary rules and procedures must be equally enforced regardless of gender.  

The Principal had long talks with all staff who witnessed the melee.  They agreed that the outburst was spontaneous, triggered by frustration from a game that started badly, then went downhill.  Therefore, the misconduct wasn’t premeditated.  Further, no obvious ringleaders were identified.

At Monday morning’s assembly, the Headmaster berated the entire class for their behavior.  He concluded by demanding the “ringleaders” come forward.  The students and even the staff squirmed, but unsurprisingly nobody came forward.  The Principal announced “There will be punishment”, but dismissed the assembly to consider his options.

Returning from the assembly, Ms. Jasper, met with the Headmaster in his office.  “What are we going to do?” she asked, “We can’t cane the entire class, although they all equally deserve it.”

“Yes, you've put your finger on it” the Headmaster agreed, “They are all equally guilty, but I haven’t the wish, nor even the time to cane them all.  That would be far too disruptive.  We couldn’t even accomplish it in an entire day.  He laced his fingers behind his neck and leaned back in thought.  “If we had the ringleaders, what punishment would you suggest?”

The assistant spoke angrily, “Given the damage to the school’s reputation, and given the possible damage to our careers, my recommendation would be public canings, even though we haven't done that for several years.”

“Caned on the bare bottom?” the Head asked.

Still angry she snapped out, “Certainly”

“Even if they happen to be girls?” the Head asked.

“Rule 36” the Deputy retorted, “So there’s no question about that.”

“That's an interesting proposition” the Head mused, “And quite unprecedented.” 

“And also quite theoretical” the Assistant mused sadly, “There were no ringleaders.”

“No” the Head agreed, “But we do have students who have misbehaved terribly and so require punishment.”

There was a long silence before the Headmaster recapped.  “I think we agree that we can't cane everybody, but be must respond.  The student body must be made to pay a price for their abysmal behavior.  At the same time, I have no desire to beat everyone.”

Then he dropped the bombshell, “I plan to extract a diezmo.”

“What?” the Assistant asked, truly mystified.

“Oh sorry,” he said quickly, “Once a Spanish teacher...  A 'diezmo' means a tithe; to extract one tenth.”

Her brows knitted in true confusion.  Before she could frame a question, he explained, “They all deserve to be punished, but we can’t punish the entire school body.  However, we can put each student at risk of the cane.  Fortunately, at the same time we are actually reducing the student body’s potential punishment by 90%.  All students will draw lots.  We will cane one out of each ten.  Since our present student body is 60, it comes to an even six.”

The Assistant gasped, “You don't mean a public caning do you?”

“Oh yes,” the Head said firmly.  “You suggested that yourself.”


He spread his hands, “Again, your suggestion.  But yes, bare. The rules allow for that”

“In front of a mixed group?”

“The board had the opportunity to take public canings and/or bare bottom canings out of our disciplinary procedure.  It was even discussed, but they chose to leave them in.  So yes, in front of a mixed group.”  

“What if some of the chosen are girls?”

“Rule 36” he responded impassively, “You quoted it yourself.  We shall finally test that rule in it's fullness.

“But...” she said, “But it just seems unfair to cane some students at random while the rest get off free.”  

“Not at random.” The Head replied, “They will choose lots.  Nobody will get punished who doesn’t richly deserve it, and nobody gets off “free” because they all have an equal chance of receiving a very painful, embarrassing and memorable punishment.  Besides, the 54 lucky ones will each receive an entry in the punishment book to the effect that they have earned a suspended bare-bottom caning.  The next time any of them give trouble...  Besides, who can complain when I'm effectively reducing their total punishment by 90%?”

The Deputy opened her mouth to rebut, but then gradually shut it as the Head's logic finally sank in.  Finally, she nodded agreement.

“One more thing,”  the Head added, “We depended on our four prefects to keep order, but they went wild with everyone else.  I have a special plan for them.”

The Deputy simply raised an inquiring eyebrow, inviting the Head to elaborate.

“The Prefects will draw lots along with everyone else.”  The Head explained.  “However those who escape public punishment to report here for a sound caning over their clothing.  It seems the least we can do”

“Yes, that sounds perfectly fair.”  The Deputy agreed.

“Just one last thing,” the Head said with some reluctance.  “I have sufficient authority to do this, but under the circumstances I'll run it by the Chairman of the Board.” 

He picked up the phone, and dialed.  The grand gentleman picked up on the first ring.  The Deputy listened to one end of a tense conversation.  It took some explaining, but finally the Chairman accepted the Head's plan.  He hung up with a relieved exhalation of breath. 

“The next thing I would like you to do,” The Head ordered with a wink, “is to take a cup of tea in the staff common room.  Casually mention my plans, but swear them to secrecy.  The word will spread like wildfire.


Just as the Head had intended, it had been less than a hour before every teacher and every student knew of his plan.  It was barely after lunchtime when the first phone call arrived from the first concerned parent.  The Head fielded the calls patiently, explaining the situation and his logic for dealing with it.  Once the situation had been explained, he gained the support of every parent, though most promised further punitive action at home.   


At the next morning's assembly, the head again commiserated with the student body in general, and the Prefects in particular.  Then he officially detailed his plans to punish one in ten of the student body and ultimately, all of the Prefects.  The selection and public canings would happen at tomorrow morning’s assembly.  Although regulation underwear was recommended though not required at this school, he suggested that all students come tomorrow with either regulation underwear, or at least the most modest underwear available. 

Even though everyone knew what he was going to say, most of the student body seemed aghast when he detailed his plan to select six of them for public pants-down punishment.  He quickly put a stop to that attitude! “Everyone who is not guilty in this matter please raise your hand right now.” he offered.  No hands appeared. 

“OK,” he continued, “All who would rather that I cane every student here rather than drawing lots please raise your hands.”  Again, no hands were raised. 

“Then the matter is settled” he announced firmly.  “We will proceed with the selection and punishment of six of you at tomorrow morning's assembly.  Everybody prepare for the worst, because you may be among those selected.”


The next morning, several student reported to the school nurse claiming sickness.  She would have none of it.  After a cursory check, she escorted all to morning assembly. 

In the assembly room, the students found the stage carefully set.  Six chairs were arranged near the rear of the raised stage.  Near the front of the stage, was a small but sturdy table with two chairs.  The evening before, while everyone else was at supper, the Head had scoured the staff's, the Prefect's and the student's common rooms for draughts (checkers) games.  He had found barely enough for his purpose.  Neatly arranged on the table in a 6 by 10 matrix were 54 white game-pieces and 6 black game-pieces.  Also on the table were a cane and a ceramic vase.  Although normally on the stage, today the faculty stood at the rear of the room, relieved that only the Head and the Deputy ran today’s assembly.

After the usual daily routine of calling the assembly to order, the Head again reiterated his disappointment at the student's behavior at the soccer game and told of the damage they had done to the school's reputation.  Scanning, the assembled students, he saw that his delaying tactics had given exactly the effect he was hoping for.  Many faces betrayed tears, all appeared truly nervous and fearful.  Finally he called up the four Prefects.  He asked them to verify that there were 54 white game-pieces and  six black ones.  He lifted the vase, then turned it upside down and shook it to show that it was empty.  With the prefects looking on uneasily, he scooped up the game pieces and funneled them inside.  He shook the vase.

“Line up,”  he ordered the Prefects, “You will draw first.  Select one piece and immediately hand it to me.”   

There were two male and two female Prefects, the two males headed the line.   They both appeared fearful, sweating and delaying.  The first boy stuck his hand in the vase and felt the pieces as if he could feel their color.  Finally, he withdrew one.  The head immediately reached his hand out for it, then held it so all could see it's color; white.  With his eyes tightly closed, the second boy pulled another white piece.  He opened his eyes and viewed the precious item with palpable relief.  The third Prefect drew her piece with less drama; again a white.  Each time a piece was drawn, the Deputy carefully marked the class roster so nobody could escape drawing their piece.  Finally the last girl Prefect drew.  This time the result was a black piece.  With a tight lipped expression that may have been a grim-smile, the Head snatched the piece and held it for all to see. He pointed the stricken girl to one of the six chairs. 

“You will remove your shoes and place them under that chair.  Then remove your school uniform and place it on the chair.  Retain your bra and knickers.  Then stand at attention in front of your chair facing the class.”  Sniffling, the girl complied.  The school body watched transfixed as she started to undress.

“OK” the head said, “Everybody stand.  Then line up alphabetically at the left side of the stage.”   He waited patiently as the class sorted themselves into a line.  While he waited for that process, he addressed the Prefects.  “I hold you more responsible than the rest of the class.  There will be a Prefects meeting this afternoon in my office immediately after the last class.”  The three Prefects had no trouble understanding the dire portents of that meeting.  He directed the somber three off the stage towards the opposite wall where the rest of the class would line up after their trip across the stage to draw.   

One-by-one, the rest of the class was made to draw their piece.  Each person climbed the steps to the stage, walked to the table, announced his or her name to the Deputy, and then drew a game-piece from the vase..  Depending on the color of their piece, they would either be directed to one of the six chairs, or allowed to walk across the stage and then down to line up on the opposite side of the room.  It was a tense scene.  Some students remained stoic through the procedure, but others openly sobbed.  Some seemed to wallow in self-pity, some seemed simply frightened, and other faces betrayed anger.  Twice, the Head had to threaten recalcitrant students with an immediate caning to force their participation in the unhappy ritual.   

Finally it came down to the last student, a girl.  One of the six chairs was still unused.  Arranged on the table in front of the Head were 54 white pieces and 5 black ones.  There was no doubt what was waiting for the unfortunate, tearful girl.  Still, the Head make her reach into the vase to select the last piece. 

“It’s not fair.” the girl sobbed as she extracted the black game-piece. 

“I’m truly sorry.” the Head replied, “But it’s perfectly fair.”  He gestured down to the fortunate 54 students who had drawn white game-pieces.  “Any of these students could have drawn that black game-piece, it just happened to be you.  Now take your place in front of that empty chair and prepare yourself for your punishment.”  Blubbering loudly, the girl reluctantly obeyed.

Deliberately, the Head cleared the table before speaking to the “lucky” 54 students, “Gather in front of the stage.  You will stand and respectfully observe your classmate’s punishments.  Remember, you each deserve to be among them.”

As the student obediently shuffled to the foot of the stage, the Head turned and regarded the six sad looking students standing in front of their chairs. There were four boys in the middle, with a girl at each end.   He noted with approval that the two girls were wearing regulation green knickers.  Of the boys, two sported tight fitting briefs, and the other two were wearing regulation boxer shorts.  He immediately saw a problem with the boxer shorts.  The fly tended to hang open and show too much!  Oh well, nothing to do about it now.

“You shall each receive six of the best to your bare bottoms.” he explained, “We will arrange things to afford you maximum frontal modesty, but it’s important that you all follow instructions.  Understand?”  Six heads nodded.

“Good,” the Head continued.  “We shall proceed in the order you were selected.  I believe that means our Prefect is first.”  He beckoned to her.  “Come stand in front of the table with your back to your classmates.” 

Tears streaming down her face, the girl approached the table, looking fearfully at the cane as she did so.  He took her by the arm and gently positioned her at the center and about one foot away from the table.

He explained the procedure loud enough for all to hear,”You will bend over the table.  Then I will draw down your knickers.  The Deputy Head will restrain you until your punishment is complete and I have replaced your knickers.  That will prevent you from jumping up and inadvertently exposing yourself.   Do you understand?”  Sadly, the girl nodded.  He looked at the other five students waiting for the cane.  “The same applies to you also, you all get the same punishment applied with identical consideration for your modesty.”  They all nodded their understanding.

“OK, bend over girl.” he ordered. 

Although the Head had caned a few girls since the school had gone co-ed, this was actually the first bare-bottom caning he had given a girl.  Not entirely confident that he wouldn’t have a physical reaction, he was glad for his robe.  He would have been happy to leave the lowering of the girl’s knickers to the Deputy, but that would be a technical violation of Rule 36.  With more trepidation that he would admit to, he reached for the green knickers.  He had to half-kneel to do the job, but in as businesslike manner as possible, pulled them down to knee level.  In the process, his nose nearly touched the small of the girl’s back.  Her bouquet was interesting, a mixture of femininity and fear.  After decades of delivering corporal punishment to students, the Head normally took little notice of yet another bottom, yet this one transfixed him.  Her buttocks were creamy colored and rounded and.. simply perfect.

With his head spinning just a bit, he picked his cane up off the table.  After swishing it through the air for the benefit of the assembled student body, he nodded significantly to the Deputy.  Already at the back of the table, she took a firm grip on the girl’s arms, pinning her to the table.

Though married, the Head somehow lacked a basic grasp of the geometry of female genitalia.  He thought that because the girl’s front wasn't exposed, that most private part of her anatomy would remain hidden.  The students watching from the foot of the stage now knew differently! With the girl bent over, they could clearly see a tuft of hair.  Those students with the most advantageous angle could clearly make out a bit of vagina.  The boys watched transfixed.  Even the girls couldn’t tear their eyes from the lewd sight.  Soon, she would show the group much more.

Not a cruel man, the Head had chosen a medium cane for today’s job.  Used with care, it would sting like blazes and leave lasting and painful welts, but no broken skin.  After carefully positioning himself, he tapped three times at the very peak of her twin orbs.  She squealed and jerked at the touch. 

“Stick your bottom tight out then hold still.” he commanded.  With an audible sob, the girl obeyed.  He repeated the taps, and then raised the cane high.

With decades of caning experience, the Head was the master of the pregnant pause.  He sincerely believed that a caning should never be rushed.  Proper pauses make a caning much harder to take, and thus more memorable and more effective, yet without increase in physical brutality.  With one eye on the clock, he waited.

The large white clock high behind the stage lacked a sweep second hand, but it had an odd characteristic that would be handy today; It made an audible “click” as the minutes hand jumped to the next minute. 

It was so quiet in the assembly room that one could hear the proverbial pin drip.  The only sound was the soft sobbing of the girl bent over the table.  Everyone else was holding their breath in rapt attention.  The Head held his pose for about 30 seconds until the clock finally “clicked”.   Then “WSSSH-THWACK” the cane accelerated downward in a perfect arc that intersected with the girl’s buttocks at precisely the intended place.  The cane dug into her nether cheeks, but they quickly sprang back into their delectable natural shape.

Half a breath later, the girl shrieked.  Her feet came up, and then drummed on the floor as she tried to deal with the pain.  Gravity had its way with her knickers, drawing them down to her ankles.

At the next “click” of the clock, “WSSSH-THWACK” he added a second tram line just above the first.  She screamed and kicked.  One foot escaped the restraint of her knickers, leaving her lags free to kick and splay.  The girl’s most private parts flashed into full view of the student body.  The students watched open-mouthed.

Now the girl was crying loudly.  Her bottom was in constant motion.  It was all the Deputy could do to hold her in place.  The Head knew that the girl was already well past her limits, even though her punishment wasn’t half over.  It would be useless to command her to hold still, so he just soldiered on, knowing that the last 4 tramlines wouldn’t be so neat.

“Click, WSSSH-THWACK,” the third blow landed.  This one he had aimed lower.  She kicked like a mule, sending her knickers flying off the stage to land in the face of a boy in the third row.  He snatched the garment from his face, but not before he caught a deep whiff of it’s feminine perfume.  Red-faced and flustered, he handed them to the nearest girl, who had the presence of mind to lay them at the edge of the stage.  For the rest of his life, that boy would associate that enticing female smell with corporal punishment. 

Exactly four minutes later, the sixth and final blow fell.  The caning had certainly been devastating to the girl, but perhaps just as bad for the waiting five students, who now knew exactly what was in store for them. 

As planned, the Deputy continued to hold the inconsolable girl down in place. The Head laid down his cane, and then reached to pull up the girl’s knickers.  Finding them missing, he looked around.  Several students helpfully pointed out the green lump at the edge of the stage.

This left him with the problem of replacing the knickers on the still sobbing girl.  As the Deputy continued to hold the girl down, the Head went down on one knee, then lifted the girl’s feet one at a time to put them through the knickers’ leg holes.  Then, as he pulled up the garment, his eyes rested inches from the specific area that the rest of the student body had been staring at.   To his consternation he immediately saw the girl’s exposure, but now there was nothing to be done.  The canings must continue as planned.

Pulling the elastic away from the girl’s outraged bottom, the Head replaced the girl’s knickers and then motioned for the Deputy to let her up.  Still sobbing, the girl pranced and reached back to her bottom. 

As the Deputy took the girl back to her chair, the Head beckoned to his next victim.

The Deputy positioned the caned girl so that she was in front of her chair, with her back to the audience.  She instructed her to put her hands on her head, and then lowered the back of the girl’s bloomers to expose her welted bottom before returning to the table.

By now, the Head had the next student, a boy, bent over the table, with his boxer shorts around his knees.  The Deputy pinned him down, the Head picked up his cane, and the boy’s punishment commenced.

The caning of the 4 boys proceeded at the same slow pace that the girl’s caning had; one stroke per minute.  While the strokes were vigorous and painful, the Head wasn’t putting his full strength into them, so the last caning he delivered was just as devastating as the first.  The boys all tried to appear stoic and brave, but none stayed silent beyond the third stroke.  The two boys who wore briefs fared somewhat better because their tight pants remained at their knees, keeping their legs together.  So, at most, a bit of scrotum was visible to the class.  The two boys with boxers lost their pants in much the same manner as the girl.  After that, their kicking and splaying exposed their all to the onlookers.

Finally one girl and four boys were standing facing their chair, hand on head, pants pulled down in back.  There was only that one, unlucky girl to go.

It would have been easy for the Head to feel sorry for her, but he reminded himself that she was as guilty as anyone else in the room.  As he drew her knickers down to her knees, he whispered to her that she should try to retain them there.  If not, she should at all costs keep her legs together.  Although tearful as she approached the table, she turned out to be the bravest of the group.  Still, a caning is a caning. The girl cooperated with her punishment to the best of her ability, but the Deputy still had to hold her firmly in place, and after the first two cuts, her shrieks still filled the room.  In spite of her efforts, her knickers did fall to her ankles, and ultimately her legs sprang free.  Having been forewarned, this girl didn’t show herself quite a flagrantly as the first one had. 

Finally all six unlucky students had been properly caned.  Hands on head, bottoms on display, each stood in front of his or her chair.  The Head turned to the “lucky” 54 students.  “For these six students, this matter is over.” the Head announced, “In the punishment book,  I will properly enter their names along with details of the canings you witnessed.  Following that, I will make 46 other entries.  Each of you will be listed as having earned a suspended bare-bottom caning.  Should any of you show up in office again on the slightest disciplinary matter...”

He left the rest unfinished, but nobody harbored any doubt as to his meaning.

Finally, he required the 54 student to file up on the stage, and then across it past the six caned bottoms before departing to their second scheduled class of the day.

The Head is a man of his word, and a dangerous man for students to test.   As it turned out, over the remainder of the school year, some 10 students ultimately received their bare-bottom canings (albeit privately) when they appeared before the Head or Deputy Head on some unrelated disciplinary mater.  

Despite the fears of the Hepburn school’s management, the incident didn’t hurt enrollment.  Parents of prospective students actually took it as evidence of the no-nonsense reputation of the school.   In the end, this resolved into one of those colorful well-known incidents that gives each school its own character, history and notoriety.

Thursday, February 09, 2012

Appointment for Contrition, Part 1 M/F

© Guyspencer 2012

Appointment for Contrition, Part 1

As Beth drove into the church parking lot, she was relieved to see it empty except for Dr. Lee’s car. It was almost time for her regular “Contrition” appointment with her Pastor, Dr. Lee, and she greatly preferred for it to be in private, especially today!

She let herself into the side door of the church. Her steps sounded hollow in the empty sanctuary as he headed for the basement stairway. She could have changed in the main lady’s room, but somehow using an empty Sunday school room felt more private. After a nervous glance at her watch, she quickly disrobed, removing first her blouse and slacks, and then her bra and panties. Naked except for her socks, she pulled her white “truth” gown over her head.

The gown was diaphanous and pure white, but otherwise unadorned. They were all lovingly made by Sister March, a retired seamstress. Dr. Lee had suggested the sheer material to “let the truth shine through”.

She looked down at herself critically. The gown modestly obscured her well-preserved private charms, but the outline of her shapely figure seemed to project itself through the material. Her body was rounded in all the correct places. Her flaring hips accentuated a narrow waist and a tummy she kept flat only with great effort.


Congregation members called him Dr. Lee, out of respect for both the man and for the Doctor of Divinity degree displayed in an ornate frame in his office. Dr. Lee was a young man, and Faith Temple was his first church. He was still unmarried, but two of the member’s daughters had recently reached marriage age and were showing distinct interest.  Although single and younger than much of his congregation, Dr. Lee had become a popular and respected fixture in the church. In fact, all considered him a loved and trusted family member.

Catholics call it “confession”, a system that has worked for them for centuries. At Faith Temple, they expanded on the concept and called it “Contrition”.

After his first year as Pastor, Dr. Lee began to identify certain problems in the congregation, many of them leading to preventable marital problems. It was a middle class congregation, but most of the households were single-earner with the wife home all day. Dr. Lee felt that this was leading to trouble, so he decided to devote extra time to counseling the wives. At first, this was just a series of private pastoral talks with the ladies, but as he began to understand the problems, he began to take more direct action.

The sessions evolved into a scheduled biweekly private meeting with each female congregation member. They would go over everything that had happened in the lady’s life over the last two weeks. At a suggestion from a parishioner, those special “truth” gowns were introduced. Wearing them for “Contrition appointments”, set the proper mood and made everybody the same, removing all barriers of class and age.

All ladies were encouraged to speak frankly and truthfully, even if the result was painful. If a behavior problem or sin were identified, Dr. Lee developed several tools to fix things. For minor problems, counseling and prayer were usually sufficient. More serious problems led to a private corporal  “intervention” delivered by hand, paddle or belt. For this, the lady was expected to give up her robe. For very serious issues, repeated sin, or behaviors that hurt other parishioners, the punishment was delivered in front of a special “intervention gathering” usually attended by most of the church’s ladies.

Don’t feel that Dr. Lee only intervened with the ladies! These frank sessions with the ladies served as Dr. Lee's window into their lives and into their family’s problems. Once the Pastor became more acquainted with these problems, more than one man found himself “invited” for a special intervention session with the pastor and a deacon or two. Sometimes these meetings didn’t end until the man had spent a few minutes pants-down across the pastor’s desk for an ass-warming. Also, the pastor occasionally got involved in the discipline of the congregation’s children, especially those with single parents.


Beth padded back upstairs. With butterflies in her stomach, she knocked on the door labeled “Pastor’s Office”.

“Come in” a hearty voice called.

Beth opened the door and entered, carefully closing it behind her. Dr. Lee stood and extended his hand. Dr. Lee was a man of God, but he was also a male. He looked at Beth with a certain hunger, but they both understood that Beth's marital chastity was perfectly safe. After a prayer and some preliminary pleasantries they got down to business, talking about Beth’s last two weeks and about her (rather minor) outstanding issues. Finally they finished their routine talk. As always, there was a significant pause.

Finally Dr. Lee asked, “Is there anything else Beth?” They both knew that this was Beth’s cue to confess any new issues or transgressions. Usually the answer was “no”, but today was different.

She turned red and looked at the floor, “Errr…yes.”

Sudden interest flared in the pastor’s eyes. “Go ahead dear.” He encouraged, “Let the truth shine out and set you free.”

“I…I spent some money I shouldn’t have, and then I misled my husband about it.” She confessed.

His response was firm, “You shouldn’t keep secrets from your husband. especially concerning money. You know that you need to tell him about this…right?”

Still looking down, Beth answered “Yes Pastor.”

He continued, “You know, 'Misled' is a word we use when we really mean 'deceived', but both of them are really synonyms for the word 'lie'”.

Blushing beet red, Beth nodded agreement.

He bore in, “The Bible tells us ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness'. But that’s what you did; isn’t it Beth?”

Beth sobbed, but could only agree.

In words that sounded strange coming from such a young man, he intoned, “Your soul is tainted and stained. The stain must be cleansed.” In a softer voice he commanded, “Remove your white garment Beth, lest it become stained from your sin.”

With a deep sob, she stood and pulled the robe over her head. He watched with rapt attention. Dr. Lee was a professional in his own way, and a man of God. There was no way he would ever improperly touch a woman. But the same God who gives us gorgeous sunsets and landscapes to enjoy, also created women in a beautiful form. So he guiltlessly drank in this feminine scenery.

Carefully, she folded the robe and laid it on his desk.

Now he needed to make some decisions, but there was no hurry.

He opened Beth’s file and read back several pages. “This isn’t the first time you’ve required punishment, not by a long shot.”

“No Pastor.” Beth admitted tremulously.

“I must think carefully what to do, and ask for guidance.” he said, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

With her heart beating faster and faster, the naked lady could only stand and wait. Dr. Lee’s choices were many. He could punish her now, in private with hand, paddle or strap. Or he could schedule an “Intervention Gathering” to punish her publicly. In that case, she would forfeit her gown until after her punishment. She would be required to leave the office nude. If she had another contrition appointment before her Intervention Gathering, she would attend it nude.

In the end, he decided that this particular sin simply didn’t warrant the Gathering. He would intervene with Beth here and now.

Beth squirmed as she watched the pastor’s face, trying to guess his thoughts. His intentions became clear when he opened his right-hand lower drawer and extracted a rolled-up leather strap.

“It could be worse”, Beth thought, “It could have been in front of a gathering.” Simultaneously, she was relieved and disappointed.
He pushed his chair away from his desk. “Come around my desk and put yourself across my lap.” he commanded. “As usual, we will start with my hand.”

Obediently, Beth put herself in place across her pastor’s lap. He felt an uncomfortable pressure where a hardness at his groin met her equally hard hip bone. He guessed correctly that Beth noticed his condition for what it was, but he made no excuses. God had made him male, so there must be a reason. Similarly, Dr. Lee was aware that submitting to his intervention led to arousal in certain of his female parishioners, including Beth. It mattered not, as long nobody gave in to temptation.

He turned his attention to the bottom-at-hand. It was flawless. Beth was 30+, but her body looked 10 years younger. In fact, the pastor mused darkly, sometimes she also acted ten years younger!

He raised his hand. Beth sensed the motion and tensed her gluteal muscles, putting a charming dent in each cheek. His hand slammed down into her right cheek. He lifted it quickly, and watched the white hand print suddenly turn red. Then he waited for several seconds. Her shoulders shook in silent sobs.

Then he unleashed a sudden fusillade of ten severe spanks spread over her entire bottom. She bucked, shrieked, and tried futilely to twist her bottom out of range. That done, the spanking grew slower and more deliberate. Beth initially tried to remain silent, but soon she was lustily howling her appreciation of her pastor's efforts.

Dr. Lee didn't confine himself just to Beth's buttocks. He also spanked the backs of her upper legs bright red, and even spanked her inner thighs when the opportunity presented itself. He could have pinned her legs to stop her kicking and discourage her twists, but that would have covered spankable real-estate, and somewhat obscured his view of this very desirable lady who was writhing on his lap. Again he rationalized; “God made her beautiful, so why shouldn't he enjoy the sight?”

One reason why he spanked Beth's legs, was to make it unlikely for her to conceal the fact of her spanking from her husband. Obviously, Beth hadn't been communicating properly with her husband, so this was one small way to help.

Finally, Dr. Lee decided that this portion of Beth's punishment was complete. He released the bawling lady and helped her to her feet. She danced around the office, one hand on each livid cheek. He watched Beth for a few moments to ensure she would be OK, then set to work methodically clearing his desk. As he worked, Beth's cries dwindled to mere sobs, and finally to just the occasional sniffle. Eventually, she figured out the sobering truth; he was cleaning off his desk to make way for her strapping.

Finally the desk was empty except for the neatly folded robe and the strap. He looked up to see Beth watching him.

“Ten strokes” he said flatly.

Suddenly changing subjects, he asked. “Are you determined to confess to your husband...and do it today?”

“He...he might decide to punish me again”  Beth temporized.

“Given the condition your bottom will be in, I doubt he will spank you; at least not today.” the Pastor replied sensibly.

In another turn of subject, Dr. Lee asked, “I'm about to see how much determination you have. Would you like your strapping to be over quickly?”

Beth thought about the implications before answering cautiously, “Yes Pastor.”

“Then this is how it shall be,” he answered, “You will put yourself across the desk, grab the opposite side, and then request each stroke. This can be over quickly, or you can extend your agony for any reasonable time period you wish...your choice.”

Beth's mouth dropped open as she realized the test that was before her, but then obediently stepped to the desk and put herself into position.

He picked up the strap, and then wrapped it once around his hand before purposely moving into position behind her. “Kindly arch your back and stick out your bottom.” he requested. “Good” he said approvingly when she complied. “Now move your feet apart a bit more.” Her heart thumping in her chest, Beth obeyed.

“Good!” he enthused. “I want you in exactly this position for each stroke. You may request the first one whenever you're ready. You will ask for each by it's number.”

She hesitated for a few seconds before mumbling “One please.”

“No,” he corrected, “I need to hear it loud and clear, say 'Give me one please'.”

She moved her face away from the desk and repeated his words clearly, “Give me one please.”

The pastor spoke approvingly, “Better, much better.”.

He carefully adjusted his stance. Then Beth felt the touch of the leather as Dr. Lee judged the range, first it was just a brush, then a little pop as he tested his swing. There was a heart-stopping pause, and then Beth clearly heard the strap as it hissed through the air then POPPED against her flesh.

It wasn't too bad for the first few instants, but then the full white-hot force of the pain finally registered in her brain. Beth shrieked, jumped up, and danced around the room. Dr. Lee said nothing. His face impassive, he merely watched to ensure that she didn't injure herself with her antics.

Finally, Beth seemed to realize that her whipping had barely begun. With a fearful look at the strap, she determinedly put herself back across the desk. Again, the pastor patiently coached her into the perfect position. Then he stood silently, waiting for Beth to request the stroke.

“Give me two please”

This time, Beth managed to stay in position for two swats. Then with seven still to go, she found herself standing, bawling and rubbing her bottom. As before, Dr. Lee waited patiently.

This time, Beth tearfully begged Dr. Lee to “hold her down and just do it.” Still impassive, he refused. Sobbing, Beth resumed her position.

“Give me four please.”

The next two swats landed on Beth's upper legs, where the marks wouldn't be hidden by her panties. Beth shrieked when the first of these fell, but managed to stay in place for one more before again shrieking and jumping up with five still to go.

Finally Dr. Lee spoke: “I'm not seeing much determination Sister Beth. We could be done by now. I'm sure you can do this, or I wouldn't make you try.”

With tears blinding her eyes, Beth gritted her teeth in determination. She put herself back into position and clutched at the far edge of the desk with a steel grip.

“Give me six please.”

Each time it was a near thing, but now Beth was truly determined to get through this. Although crying freely and barely able to choke out the words, she called down swats six, seven, and eight to her livid bottom.

With each swat she squealed and sobbed, but she managed to stay in place. She couldn't see, but Dr. Lee was smiling in gentle triumph. He had helped Beth discover a determination she didn't know she had.

“Give me nine please.”

The Pastor stepped back slightly, and targeted her sit spots with an upward stroke. Beth's feet lifted off the ground and she screamed, but still she doggedly stayed in place.

“Give me ten please.”

With enviable accuracy, he struck the same place a second time. Beth screamed again before allowing herself to collapse in deep sobs. Dr. Lee was pleased with himself. He felt like he had led Beth to a real breakthrough. From now on she would be a stronger person.

It turned out that he was correct, but her new strength wouldn't be directed in quite the direction he anticipated.

As usual, the pastor resisted the impulse to take the tearful woman in his arms to comfort her. That would be just too dangerous. He spoke calming words, but did so without touching. Finally she picked herself up off of his desk. Standing behind her, he lifted the gown and slid it over her head. Automatically, Beth lifted her arms to help. The thin cloth slipped down her body and over her tortured mounds without triggering new pain.

“You have confessed your sin, and you have accepted the necessary intervention bravely.” He intoned, “You have discovered a reservoir of determination within yourself that you never knew you had. Now go! Go and use it to make things right between you and your husband”


Moments later, Beth exited the pastor’s office and headed back downstairs to dress. She was indeed determined! She was determined to stop inventing “sins” to induce her young Pastor to spank her. She also was determined to confront her husband. Yes! She was finally determined to explain to him her need for a new form of intimacy. He would think it strange at first, but once he discovered the delightful erotic benefits involved, he would quickly become a convert.