Returning to the Scene

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© Guyspencer 2013                                                   

  
                                                      Returning to the Scene

Given the times (1950's) and given where she lived (USA deep south) Julie’s parents weren’t particularly strict with her.  Neither were the spankings her father gave her particularly remarkable.  At least, they weren’t remarkable compared to the hidings that virtually all of her friends received on a fairly regular basis.

Julie’s parents had wanted more children, but somehow it had never happened.  So for better or worse, Julie was the recipient of her parent’s full attention.  That meant that she really couldn’t get away with much mischief.  That didn’t matter as much as it might have, because Julie was basically a good girl.  Still, as is normal for any teen growing up, she did occasionally find herself in her parent’s bad graces.  When that happened, her parent’s usual response was corporal in nature and done according to a predictable family routine.

Her parents made no secret that they occasionally spanked their daughter.  In the correct company, they would even freely admit that they exclusively did so on her bare bottom, and often with implements!  After all, they wanted others to see them as good parents, and spanking was seen as something that every good parent must do. 

The routine went like this: If it happened to be a school day, Julie’s mother would confront her as soon as she returned from school.  After a short but stern conversation, which was mostly intended to assure that the mother had the facts straight, Julie would be sent to her to her room to start her homework.

Eventually Julie would hear her father arrive from work.  Then all would go quiet as her parents discussed how to respond to this latest crisis.

Supper would be tense, but the parents normally wouldn’t directly mention Julie’s pending punishment.  Mother would ask how much more homework remained, and a time would be set for a “meeting”.  After supper, Julie would again be banished to her bedroom to finish her homework and to stew.

At the appointed time, Julie would appear in the living room.  It wasn’t required, but usually she would already be showered and in pajamas.  Often she would already be in tears.
Unwillingly, her eyes would check the spot next to her mother on the couch.  If she found a folded bath towel there, then she was almost surely in for a spanking.

The discussion would always start out lovingly, quietly, and respectfully.  Julie would always be given fair opportunity to explain her side of any story.  The parents were always firm and direct, but seldom resorted to yelling at their cherished offspring.  Finally the talk would morph into a discussion of her punishment.  Here, Julie was allowed to be heard, but the final decision was solely up to the parents.

In truth, the parents already would have discussed the situation and had already tentatively agreed on her punishment.  That was only likely to change if Julie supplied some new fact, or explained how they had their facts confused.  They were open to new information about the offense, but deaf to begging, bargaining, or any other attempt at manipulation by their daughter.

Often, the parent’s decision would involve corporal punishment.  In that case, shortly after  Julie was told that she was to be spanked, the father would excuse himself saying, “I’ll be waiting for you in the study.”  Even though he was about to spank his teenaged daughter’s bare bottom, he felt uncomfortable watching her being stripped.  So he would simply leave the room, leaving that task to the mother.  As he left, the girl would sob on her mother’s shoulder, but never begged to be let off because she knew that once a punishment was announced, her parents never backed down.

The mother would calm her daughter, and then make her stand before her.  And then she would bare Julie for her punishment.

Had there been other children in the household besides Julie, a more modest procedure would likely have evolved, but there was nobody besides her parents to see Julie naked, so her nudity was only a minor issue.  Sometimes the mother stripped every bit of clothing from her daughter, or sometimes only bared her from the waist down.  It depended on the offense, Julie’s attitude, and the mood of the parents.

Once bared, Julie would learn a bit about the severity of her coming punishment.  For lesser offenses, mother might send Julie empty-handed to the study for a simple hand spanking.  For more serious offenses, she would reach under the towel where she had previously secreted either a hairbrush or the “rod of correction”, which was actually an ancient hardwood yardstick. Julie would noticeably wilt when she saw the feared implement, but would obediently accept it from her mother.

Finally Mother would give Julie the towel, which would protect her modesty for the next few minutes.

Wrapped in the towel, she would take the long walk to her father’s study.

There, she would find the door open and her father waiting.  Reluctantly, she would enter the room, leaving the door open.

When Julie turned 8, her parents had decided that the father would take over spanking duties.  Still, they agreed that there would be no spanking unless they were both present to support each other’s authority and unless both had agreed to the spanking.  The mother preferred to not be in the study when the spanking happened, but that open door connected her to events there.  The open door was an acknowledgment that the spanking was more than a matter between father and daughter, it meant the mother was also involved and in agreement.

As Julie entered, the father would always greet her gently and almost apologetically.   If she were holding a spanking implement, he would gravely accept it and place it on his desk.  Having had a cry earlier, Julie would typically meet her father (and her corporal fate) with damp eyes, but without frank tears.

Regardless of any implement Julia brought into the study, her punishment always started with a serious hand spanking.  The father would pull a chair into the center of the room, seat himself and look at Julie expectantly.  Julie knew what she had to do.  It wouldn’t be quite time for the spanking, not quite yet.  First, she would have to stand in front of her father, look him in the eye, and explain what she had done to earn this punishment, and why it was wrong.  In a halting voice, she would give it her best shot.  Sometimes he asked for a point or two in amplification, or sometimes he would just nod his agreement.

When they finally got past that little ceremony, she would tearfully apologize one last time, move to his side, reluctantly relinquish the towel, and put herself into position across her father’s thighs with her bare bottom elevated by his right knee.

The father wasn’t overly harsh, but neither did he believe in token spankings.  The spanking that followed would be careful, calculated, and thorough.  Soon Julie would find herself doing a horizontal boogie as her firm buns and shapely thighs absorbed their full dose of parentally-prescribed correction whilst turning an appropriately bright shade of red..   Her pony tail would toss in time with the gradually increasing pace of her father’s corporal efforts.  First it would approximate an easy canter, and then a trot, and finally increase to gallop speed as the spanking progressed towards its natural conclusion.

Julie accepted her punishment as bravely as possible, but she made no attempt at stoicism.  Long ago, Julie had learned that there was no point in trying to take her punishment silently.  Her feeble, futile attempts at  silence would be taken as a challenge that would simply encourage her father to greater efforts.  So Julie “let it out”.  Her cries, pleas, squeals, shrieks and promises of future perfect behavior would resonate throughout the room and fly out the door to seek out every room of the house.   

Finally her hand spanking would end.  Father would hold her in place and rub her back as she gradually returned to sanity.  Then finally he would set the contrite girl on her feet, where she would be allowed to dance and rub.  By then, the modesty towel had long been forgotten, and the girl never noticed her father’s blush at her naked antics.  The towel would remain on the floor until mother later collected it.  

Often that lewd dance would mark the end of Julie’s punishment, but sometimes there would still be that feared implement waiting on father’s desk.

If there was more punishment to come, father would treat her kindly but firmly.  She would be allowed time to somewhat recover, but not enough delay to cool off her bottom.  If the hairbrush was on the desk, he would softly command her to fetch it and lay herself back into position.  He never drew out this part of the punishment.  He would pin her into position and then quickly brand her nether cheeks with that old wooden brush.  There was no particular number of spanks, but he always took less than a minute to turn a bright red bottom into a mildly bruised one.  Her screams would often carry to the neighbor’s house, and always brought a tear to her mother’s eye.

Rarely, and for only the worst offenses, would be the “rod of correction” be waiting on the desk.  This would be a slower, more drawn-out punishment.  While Julie was dancing from her hand spanking, father would sit at his desk and carefully clear off the top of his desk.  He always kept the upper left drawer empty for just this purpose.  First he would gather up any papers and stack them neatly in the bottom of the drawer.  Then he would gather all of the other items on the desk, such as pens & paperweights and dump them on top.  Finally he would place the leatherette cover over his ancient Underwood typewriter and, with a grunt, lower the heavy thing into the kneehole under the desk. 

Now the desktop would be clear except for the “rod of correction” which was an ancient hardwood yardstick from which the father had laboriously smoothed the sharp edges.

Teary eyed and nervous, poor Julie could only watch her father’s preparations.  Yes, he could have done that stuff in advance, but he pointedly didn’t.  It was a small matter of using theater to enhance her punishment without necessarily making it more physically severe.

And then Julie would find herself bent over her father’s desk.  With his left hand firmly between her shoulder blades, father would hold her down while that slim length of hardwood did its memorable work.  He never whipped her fast.  Instead he would take five minutes to do the same damage he could do with the hairbrush in less than one.  Julie never seemed to notice that the rod did no more damage to her bottom than the hairbrush.  To her, the rod was her most feared punishment.  She never held back on the noise.  The next morning, her throat would hurt almost as much as her bottom.

Then would come the part of the family’s correction ritual that Julie came to crave.  When her cries finally decayed to mere sobs, father would escort his chastised and forgiven darling back to the living room.  There would be a long 3-way hug, spiced with mutual apologies and reassurances of love.   Mother would produce a damp washcloth to wash the girl’s face.  Then all three would sit on the couch.  Snug between her parents, the still bare-bottomed girl would sit on her knees to spare her tender hind parts.
  
Julie was a good girl, a girl who honestly and deeply loved her parents.  But there are always barriers between parent and teen.  But the three had gradually learned that the catharsis of confrontation, punishment, tears and forgiveness temporarily wiped away those barriers of communication.  In the brief, magical absence of those barriers, parent and child could talk like at no other time.  The normally shy girl would sometimes get positively, albeit temporarily, loquacious.  Sometimes they would talk and hug for a whole hour before it finally came time to put the girl to bed.  There was never a time when the girl felt more wanted and more loved.

Finally mother would escort Julie to her bedroom, remove any remaining clothing, and put the bare, red-bottomed girl to bed.  Only when her body was covered by her single sheet would the father come into the room to kiss her goodnight.  This was the only time the girl slept without her nightclothes.  There was no particular reason for this, it was simply an unquestioned part of the family’s punishment ritual.

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Julie grew up and matured into an adult with no particular problems.  She left home for college, met a good man there, graduated, got married, and had her own children.  Their early married life was a randy, loving affair that included spankings for fun but occasionally also for her discipline.  When their first child got old enough to hear things in the night and to ask too many questions, the couple was obliged to pursue quieter intimacies.

Meanwhile, Julie’s parents served as doting grandparents as they aged in Julie’s childhood home. Eventually they aged a bit too much to continue living alone, so Julie reluctantly sold the home to pay for their last few years in a nice assisted living community.  In due course both were gone, having died within weeks of each other as devoted old couples sometimes do.

And then two momentous things happened in the same year; Julie’s last child left for college, and her husband reached retirement age.  It was time for the “empty nesters” to move out of the city and find a quieter, more private, less expensive lifestyle.  In their new privacy, the couple also agreed to “reignite” their intimate life.

Julie knew just the place.  Her childhood home had just come back on the market.

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Julie was naked, bent over the desk, red-bottomed and breathing hard.  She was in a situation that  was welcome and familiar, but not exactly the same as in her childhood.  It was the same study, but a different desk.  In the basement they had miraculously found the family’s old “rod of correction”.  The hand between her shoulder blades firmly holding her to the desk was male, but defiantly not her father’s.  This wasn’t a true punishment, so he wasn’t doing any real damage with the rod, but still her bottom stung enough to make her dance and sob.

Suddenly it stopped.  She grinned slightly as she recognized the soft sound of her husband’s pants hitting the floor.  She flooded with lubrication, knowing and craving what he had in mind, and the delightful coupling that was about to occur.  

Yes, Julie had truly “returned to the scene” of her childhood.  With the eager help of her husband she even enjoyed recreating some of her old memories.  But the loving couple recreated them in their own particular way, so they weren’t exactly the same as what happened in Julie’s childhood.

They were much better!

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