Thou Shalt Not...
It was 1965 and it had been a long hot
summer in Westland Texas. Jane had hoped for employment, but summer
jobs were scarce. Therefore, it had been a boring summer and Jane had
little spending money. In a few weeks, she would start her last year of
high school. With little else to do, Jane enjoyed walking downtown to
window shop. The little town’s few storekeepers knew her and welcomed
her. Perhaps it was boredom that got her into trouble?
_______________
Sixteen year-old Jane had
never felt such guilt. Returning the shoplifted bracelet had been a
start down her road to redemption, but it would take more than that
before she could forgive herself. In her young life she had learned
only one way do deal with this type of guilt, through her bare bottom.
To dissolve it would take a cleansing fire, a scorching sting applied to
her bare rear until she was screeching, wailing and writhing with
contrition.
Always before, punishment had happened automatically and passively
because her parents always learned when she misbehaved, and always “took
her in hand”. But today was different. Today her parents sat
downstairs clueless.
Poor Jane was caught in the cusp between two huge unthinkable acts.
One act, that theft, was irrevocably done. The next act, facing her
parents, was inevitable. The question was when and how would it happen?
She had committed her theft two days ago, a bracelet from Atkins Jewelry
Shop. Jane was a good girl, a girl with a solid “moral compass”,
brought up in a conservative small town, in a strict church, by strict
and loving parents. Jane was a girl who lived by her “thou shalt
nots”. So it’s odd that she had given in to temptation. But it’s no
surprise that she was tormented by guilt for her shameful behavior.
That guilt had eaten on her until she had returned the item and
tearfully confessed to the storekeeper.
Yes, she knew the Ten Commandments by heart. And yes, she knew that
the eighth commandment was “Thou shalt not steal.” Further, she knew
her parent’s standard punishment for any violation of the Ten
Commandments: The hairbrush, on the bare bottom, witnessed by her
family.
Now, she must do that other unprecedented and unthinkable act; she
must go downstairs and confess her sin to her parents. That would
surely result in her punishment.
When should she do it?
She stewed, she dithered. Now, early evening, would be a good time, or
she could wait until just before bedtime. But what if she did neither?
She realized later that Mr. Atkins had just been trying to help.
Probably he would have just accepted the bracelet and let her off with a
lecture. But it was Jane who had insisted that she must tell her
parents. She must “make things right” with them, even though doubtless
she would be punished. Naturally, she didn’t give Mr. Atkins the
details about her expected punishment!
When the man saw the torment in Jane’s eyes, he had decided to make
the decision easy for her. “Confess to your parents tonight without
fail, because I will call them tomorrow to ensure you did.”
So
the die was cast. If Jane didn’t confess tonight, things would only
get worse for her tomorrow. Still, Jane was terribly afraid that she
would “chicken out.” She was afraid she would walk downstairs, see her
parents, and fold. Then, rather than confess, she might choke out
something about (perhaps) the weather. Then her life would be hell
until Mr. Atkins’s phone call brought her world crashing down around
her.
No! She must confess tonight! So Jane made a plan. She would burn
her bridges behind her, give herself no choice except to confront her
parents and confess. She started simply enough, by doing something so
uncharacteristic that would make her mother ask why. The start was
simple, she simply stripped and took her evening shower early. Normally
she showered at bedtime, but today it was barely dark. At minimum her
mother would inquire why, and then mother would see the trouble in her
eyes.
Jane lingered in the shower, telling herself that she needed to do
an extra good job because she wouldn’t feel like taking another later.
Actually, she was delaying. Finally, she turned off the water and dried
off her slim body.
The shower over, Jane had burned one tiny bridge behind her. That wasn’t so bad! Now she just had to continue with the plan.
So with that step taken, Jane proceeded to burn a much larger bridge.
Jane
had a special nightgown. She kept it out of sight in the bottom drawer
of her dresser. It was a loose, airy, soft and comfortable garment
that ended just above her knees. It was a garment that anybody should
love, but Jane hated it. She hated it because it was her punishment
outfit, used because it kept her bottom modestly covered, yet convenient
to spank. Jane’s two brothers had nightshirts for the same purpose,
and hated them for the same reason.
Normally Jane only donned that gown when her parents sent her to
prepare for a spanking. But today, wearing it was her idea. Her eyes
unfocused as she opened up that drawer. She hoped that miraculously it
would be gone. But no! With a shudder, she unfolded the garment,
pulled it over her head, and let it fall lightly over her developing
body.
As soon as any family member saw her in that gown, there would be no
turning back. She would be forced to explain herself, and there was
only one explanation.
Her heart pumping madly, Jane stood just
inside her bedroom door. She tried the doorknob, but her hands were too
sweaty to turn it. Finally it clicked and the door swung open. She
was sure that she would instantly be seen, but nobody was there. She
started for the living room and her parents. Halfway there, she
abruptly turned and scurried back to the safety of her bedroom. There,
she castigated herself for being a “wimp”. Squaring her shoulders, she
tried again. This time she added one detail, she picked up the
hairbrush from her dresser.
Downstairs, she stood in the doorway of the living room. Her
parents sat watching the evening news but she was in their line of
sight. Finally mother noticed her middle child standing there. (Mother
can be forgiven for being slow on the uptake, none of her three
children had ever volunteered for a spanking before.) She immediately
noted that Jane looked unhappy, and something was different, something
important. It finally dawned on her that Jane was wearing her
punishment gown.
“That’s it,” Jane thought with mad butterflies capering in her stomach, “She’s noticed. There’s no going back now.”
“Gerald?” She asked her husband, “Jane isn’t in trouble is she?”
“Not
that I know of” Gerald replied. Gerald looked at his daughter. He
noted the punishment gown, the hairbrush, the tears. Yep! That’s
trouble! He just didn’t know the specifics yet. Eyes fixed on his
daughter, he doused the television.
In a kind voice he asked, “What’s going on honey?”
“Dad, mom,” she sobbed, “We need to talk.”
They
listened, carefully and patiently. They asked questions. They weren’t
screamers and there weren’t even any recriminations. At least, none
yet! Sadly, Jane watched her father’s face darken when he had finally
absorbed the full story.
Mother chimed in, “So you weren’t caught? You willingly confessed to Mr. Atkins and now you are willingly confessing to us?
“Close,
but not exactly,” Jane admitted. “Yes, I wasn’t caught. I returned
the bracelet because I couldn’t live with myself. But Mr. Atkins said
he will call you tomorrow. So that sort of forced me to confess to you
first.”
“And if Mr. Atkins hadn’t said that?” She asked with raised brows.
Jane
replied with fresh tears. “I honestly don’t know mom. I told Mr.
Atkins that I wanted to tell you, but it’s hard. Probably
eventually...”
Gerald was a man who honestly hated to spank his children, yet it
was a responsibility that he took very seriously when required. He
delivered a verdict, “It appears you have indeed earned a ‘commandment’
spanking. Since you’ve brought your hairbrush, you apparently know the
rules. However, we need time to think, and time to talk to Mr. Atkins.
So no spanking until we have the facts straight. We’ll discuss it
tomorrow.”
Jane was horrified at the prospect of waiting a whole day, and found
herself in the strange position of begging for a spanking; “No Daddy,
please! Waiting would be torture. I’ve told you the whole truth.
Honest!”
Mother came to the rescue, “Gerald, you’re correct. We need the
facts, and we must reflect and discuss this first. But why wait? Let’s
call Mr. Atkins now.”
Jane nervously waited on the couch while
her parents conferred privately in their bedroom. Sam, Jane’s
19-year-old brother, a freshman at the local college, arrived home from a
late class. Seeing his sister’s glum look and correctly grasping the
significance of her outfit and the hairbrush, he asked, “What’s up
Sis?”
She sobbed, “I did something really bad Sam, I shoplifted a bracelet at Atkins Jewelry Store.”
He
whistled, and then sat down beside her, a comforting arm around her
shoulder. He wanted to yell, “What were you thinking!” But instead
tried a milder question, “So you got caught?”
“No.” She shivered and then snuggled a bit, glad for her big
brother’s comfort. “I couldn’t stand the guilt, so I returned it.”
“So
now you’re gonna get a ‘commandment’ spanking?” Sam spoke with true
concern and empathy in his voice. Because he was still living at home
and being supported by his parents, he was subject to the same rules as
Jane. Only months ago he had received his own “commandment” spanking.
He and his girlfriend had been caught au naturel in his bedroom. Being
conservative folk, their parents had a broad definition of the word
“adultery”. So Sam paid for violating the seventh commandment. Clad
only in his hated nightshirt, poor Sam had howled and bawled his way
through an impressive bare-bottom hairbrush spanking as his siblings
watched and hopefully learned.
Rumor was that Sam’s girlfriend received much the same treatment from her own parents.
Memories
of Sam’s spanking multiplied the butterflies in Jane’s belly. Finally,
almost reluctantly, she answered her big brother’s question. “I’m
definitely getting it, but perhaps not tonight. I’m petrified, but I
hope they don’t make me wait!”
In the comforting presence of her big brother, Jane told him everything. Talking helped.
It
was a full 30 minutes before her parents returned. Not sure that he
should be talking to Jane just now, Sam edged away. Seeing Sam, Gerald
said, “Oh good, you’re home. I was afraid we would have to wait for
you. Your sister is about to be spanked.”
On finally hearing her sentence, Jane found herself shaking.
“Jane,”
Gerald explained, “We found Mr. Atkins in the phonebook. He backs up
all you said. Your mother and I have calmed down now, so there’s no
reason to delay your spanking.”
Not sure what she was supposed to say, Jane just gawked stupidly.
It was mother who dropped the bombshell, “Mr. Atkins is a forgiving fellow. He even tried to talk us out of spanking you.”
Jane was incredulous, “You told him? Oh noooo!”
She had a sudden, sickening thought, “You didn’t tell him...”
“That
you are about to be spanked on your bare bottom? ...with a hairbrush?”
Mother said helpfully. “Yes Honey we did, we did it for you. We wanted
him to know that we take this very seriously and we especially want him
to understand that you will never steal again and that you are a
wonderful, trustworthy person. Don’t worry! He hasn’t told anyone
about your theft, and he won’t blab about your spanking.”
Gerald turned the conversation around to business, “Go upstairs, find your little brother, and send him down here.”
Mother
chimed in, “Visit the bathroom and squeeze out whatever you can. Save
yourself a bit of embarrassment by taking off your panties privately.
Don’t delay!”
At the mention of these intimate details, Jane’s face blushed as red
as the future hue of her bottom. She was already bare under her gown,
but there was no need to argue.
So she simply answered, “Yes ma’am.” And fled the room.
She found 13-year-old Frank in his room. It was hard to find the
words to tell him he should go downstairs to witness her bare bottom
disgrace. She finally croaked it out.
With fresh tears in her eyes, she made the required bathroom trip.
Downstairs, the parents had arranged the scene carefully. The
curtains were closed. For their own good, the boys needed to witness
Jane’s punishment, but that didn’t mean that they needed an eyeful of
Jane’s most intimate anatomy. Jane was unlikely to control her legs
while being spanked. That kicking and splaying would reveal far more of
Jane to the boy’s eyes than the parents wished. So Gerald pointed the
boys to the couch and positioned an armless chair so Jane’s bottom
would be pointing away from them. He sat down and tucked the hairbrush
behind him. Mother stood supportively next to her husband, ready to
help restrain Jane.
Gerald always insisted that he treated all of his children equally.
But he had a soft spot for his daughter, and his wife knew it well. So
they had talked and had agreed on the specifics of Jane’s coming
punishment. He hated this job, but had reluctantly agreed to “do it
well”.
On wobbly legs, Jane entered the room and surveyed the grim
tableau. Automatically, she walked to her father. She welcomed his
hug, sinking gratefully into his arms and burying her wet face against
his chest. For several moments the room remained dead quiet except for
Jane’s sniffles.
Finally Mother broke the silence with a short recap on why Jane was
about to be punished, and then finished with, “This will be a
‘commandant’ punishment, which is why you are all here to witness.
Jane, tell us what commandment you violated.”
Father released the hug and held her at arms length so she could answer. She sobbed it, “The eighth; thou shalt not steal.”
Gerald
took over, “Jane, we’re horrified that you gave in to temptation and
stole something. But still, we’re proud that you knew you had done
wrong and decided to confess. We are especially proud that you
confessed even knowing the consequence you would face.”
Jane smiled shyly at the unexpected praise and nodded, displacing
tears from her face. One tear landed on the floor, the other on her
father’s knee.
“Normally in a case like this we would keep you
on restriction after your spanking until you were ready to be trusted
again. But you’ve demonstrated trust by confessing, so restriction
won’t be necessary. Understand?”
“Yes Sir. Thank you mommy and dad.”
“Don’t thank me too much young lady! The next few minutes will be difficult for everyone in the room, especially for you.”
“Y...yes sir.”
“How many times have I spanked you with this hairbrush Jane?”
“T...twice sir.”
“Both of them were ‘commandment spankings’ right?”
“Yes sir, for lying.”
“Well
you’re older now and should be more responsible. Also, shoplifting is a
crime, you could have ended up in court or even jail. Therefore,
today’s spanking will be much harder than those other two. You won’t be
on restriction, but your bottom will hurt for several days.”
There was a long moment of silence as the father delayed the
inevitable. In a voice gruff with emotion he finally choked, “I love
you sweetheart. I honestly hate to do this to you.”
‘I know daddy, it’s OK.”
His hands went to the hem of her gown. First he gathered all the
excess material behind her. She felt it tighten against her belly.
Then, taking care to not expose her, he tugged the hem up to mid-thigh.
“Over you get” he said as he guided her into place. It was a
practiced maneuver, calculated to facilitate exposing her entire rear
while preserving her frontal modesty. The boys owned punishment
nightshirts for the same reason, and received the same consideration for
their modesty.
Even though she had recently emptied her bladder, Jane had a sudden
fear of piddling in her father’s lap. Later she guessed that it was a
combination of nerves and pressure against her bladder. That momentary
sensation was perhaps a blessing, because it distracted her mind from
the humiliation of her unveiling.
Gerald raised the tail of her gown high, gathering the excess
material just below the back of her neck. Jane’s rear was bared from
her shoulder blades down. Aware of her exposure, she looked down, as if
hiding her face made her less bare. White-knuckled, she grabbed the
chair legs.
From his vantage point, which had been carefully selected with an
eye toward’s Jane’s modesty, Sam had a view of the top of Jane’s head,
the bunched cloth held firmly between her shoulder blades by father’s
hand, the small of her back, and (most noticeably) two feminine mounds
separated by a deep valley.
To Sam, Jane was a kid sister and so not a “girl” in the normal
sense. Therefore, he felt privately guilty to find himself reacting to
the sight of her maturing bottom. His blood pressure must have been
elevated, because he could actually hear his heartbeat in his ears.
Frank was still slightly miffed at his older sister from a recent
minor dispute. He wasn’t delighted to see her in this position, but was
at least ambivalent. Mostly, he was glad it was her bottom on display
this time and not his.
Jane looked up at her brothers. In a lame attempt at bravado she
gave them a forced grin, but all they saw was a scared little girl’s
grimace.
Looking down at her grip on the chair legs,
Gerald spoke in a deceptively kindly voice, “That’s right Honey, hang on
tight. This is supposed to hurt, but the less you fight it the quicker
it will be over. Now say that commandment nice and loud.”
Addressing the space under the chair so she wouldn’t have to show her face, Jane recited, “Thou shalt not steal.”
As she spoke, Gerald reached behind him and retrieved the brush.
For
those few spankings where he used the hairbrush, Gerald’s normal
technique was to start with a lengthy and thorough hand spanking of
gradually increasing intensity. Only then would he switch to the
hairbrush for a vigorous and memorable, but relatively brief, finale.
But today he had a painful surprise planned for his cherished daughter.
Without
warning he raised the brush high and then slammed it down into the
fleshiest part of her right buttock. Jane’s mind couldn’t process the
unexpected sound. But when the signals from a million outraged nerve
endings reached her brain, Jane threw back her head and screamed. Never
before had she felt the astonishing power of a hairbrush on her
unprepared bottom.
He paused, allowing her to get the full benefit of each stroke
before adding another one. Over the next two minutes, he gave her just
three more of those devastating swats. He placed one full-force swat on
the top of each buttcheek, and one milder but still incredibly
effective swat to each sit spot. As the parents had expected, Jane took
them badly. After that third swat, Jane curled her legs up to protect
her thighs. Gently but firmly and without scolding, mother grabbed her
ankles and held them down.
Gerald waited patiently while Jane, expecting more such blows, bawled loudly.
The
boys watched soberly, sorry for their sister but knowing that Jane had
earned her punishment. Their parents never punished unfairly or
over-severely, and so they trusted that they were doing the right
thing. They had watched open-mouthed as the hairbrush had flattened
each buttock. Each jiggled back into its proper shape, but with the
addition of an angry red mark right in the center. They could see
Jane’s anguished reaction to those “sit spot” swats, but not the actual
impact because the undercurve of her bottom was beyond their
line-of-sight.
Finally Jane seemed to register the pause. Her bawling decayed to mere sobs and sniffles.
“For
now,” Gerald announced, “that’s enough with the hairbrush. Before we
start again, let’s see if you still remember that commandment.”
He had to prompt her twice, but finally she squeaked out, “Thou shalt not steal.”
“Good,”
Gerald said, “Now we will start your hand spanking. That won’t be so
hard, so mom will release your legs. It’s OK to kick some, but don’t
curl them up or we’ll have to restrain them again. OK?”
Fearfully, Jane nodded her understanding.
Later, it would be
the hairbrush that Jane would remember, but the hand spanking was
actually the main part of her punishment. Gerald never rushed that
part, nor spanked severely. He started with mild spanks that usually
stung just enough to make the recipient wriggle uncomfortably as their
bottom changed shades. But Jane had already “lost her cool” and her
bottom was already sore from those nasty brush strokes, so she cried
loudly and struggled from the start.
From there, things only got worse for poor Jane as her father gradually increased the force of his spanks.
Sam
and Frank watched their sister’s punishment as it slowly escalated in
intensity. They could clearly see her mounds roil, quiver, bounce and
redden from their father’s slaps. Jane twisted and kicked, adding whole
new dimensions of motion to her bottom. His spanks weren’t just to her
bottom either. When her legs kicked up into sight, they could see red
splotches on her thighs.
Jane begged, sobbed, squealed and even bellowed as Gerald’s
ministrations became more and more vigorous. She didn’t remember
reaching back, but was vaguely aware that her right hand had become
trapped behind her, tight in her father’s grip.
Gerald took his time, spanking with almost clinical precision. He
blanched a bit when her legs splayed, displaying anatomy he wasn’t
comfortable seeing, but he doggedly continued his task until every
square inch of her bottom was an even bright red and the girl showed
signs of exhaustion.
Finally Gerald paused and looked at his wife questioningly. She
frowned and inspected Jane’s bottom before nodding her approval.
No
longer expecting a coherent response from Jane, Gerald looked at the
boys. “You boys are here to share Jane’s lesson. I don’t ever want to
give another spanking for theft. Understand?”
Both boys readily agreed.
“Also,” Gerald continued. “You
won’t mention this outside the house and you won’t tease your sister.
In fact, she needs your support. Don’t do anything to make it worse for
her.”
Both boys nodded earnestly.
By now, Jane had quieted a bit,
so he turned his attention to her. “OK, we’re mostly done Jane, but I’m
afraid the hard part is next.
While that news sank in, Gerald reached behind him to retrieve the brush.
Jane started begging, piteously and frantically. “Noooo dadeee! I learned my lesson already, Pleeassseeee!”
Gerald
truly hated what he was about to do. Mother restrained Jane’s legs as
Gerald raised the hairbrush high. His face a mask of sadness and
determination, he went to work.
Soon Jane was screeching and bouncing to the rhythm of that busy
hairbrush. As usual, Gerald didn’t prolong this part. He spanked her
just enough to leave her bottom sore for a few days, and to instill a
lifetime lesson.
And then it was over.
He flipped down the back of her gown,
fully restoring her modesty. He spoke gently and massaged her back
until it seemed safe to allow her up for the inevitable spank-dance-rub.
The
boys each hugged her, and then graciously disappeared, leaving the
still distraught girl to the gentle ministrations of her loving parents.
_______________
With her punishment behind
her, Jane slept well for the first time in several days. Twice she
woke up after she had rolled over and put pressure on her bottom, but
she resumed sleep quickly.
She wasn’t on restriction, but still stayed home that day to recover from her ordeal.
About
mid-morning the phone rang. Mother answered it, and talked for a long
time in a low voice. After that she seemed a bit mysterious and
unusually busy. Taking a cut of meat from the freezer, she worked in
the kitchen. Eventually, wonderful smells informed Jane that her mother
was preparing pot roast. In this family, pot roast almost always
meant that some honored guest was expected, often their Pastor and his
wife.
Twice Jane asked who was coming, but each time her question was
somehow deflected. Giving up, Jane helped set the table. That way, she
learned that they were expecting only a single guest.
Father
arrived home from work, and went off to shower before supper. A few
minutes later, the doorbell rang. Mother called from the kitchen for
Jane to answer it. She opened the door and found herself red-faced and
speechless. It was Mr. Atkins!
It was an awkward moment for both of them, but finally Jane
recovered enough to invite him in. He looked at her with real concern
on his face, “Can you forgive me Jane?”
She looked at him in honest confusion, “Forgive you for what? You are the one who should be mad at me!”
“But I got you spanked,” he blurted, “I didn’t mean to do that. You
returned the bracelet. That would have been good enough for me.”
“But
it wouldn’t have been good enough for me,” Jane explained. “I needed
to make things right, even though it cost me the spanking. You didn’t
know that I would get spanked because I purposely didn’t tell you, so
please don’t feel bad.”
He looked thoughtful, “I was hoping that’s what you would say.
There’s something I need to talk to you about. Would after supper be
OK?”
Jane had no idea why Mr. Atkins was there, nor what he wanted to talk about. Did he think she still needed more punishment?
Supper was a tense affair for Jane. She tried not to squirm, but
her bottom still hurt. Every time she squirmed, she could feel Mr.
Atkins’ eyes on her. She could have sat on a pillow, but she wasn’t
going to do that in front of guests!
After desert and small talk over coffee, Jane found herself alone with Mr. Atkins.
She
sat down a bit too hard, and Mr. Atkins noticed her wince. He started
to apologize again, but Jane politely stopped him, “Sir, can we please
not talk about my spanking?
He blushed. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been married, so I’ve never had
a daughter. This is all new to me...and a bit uncomfortable”
“Yes,
I guess it’s uncomfortable for both of us,” Jane agreed. “But I want
you to know that I will never steal anything again, ever! You can count
on that, and I’m so sorry and so embarrassed at what I did.”
“That’s what your parents said last night before
your...err...consequence... Now that I’ve met you in your home, I can
see that it’s true. So that’s why we should talk.”
After a
pause, he continued. “You start your senior year soon. Your parents
say it’s OK for you to have a part time job as long as you keep your
grades up. Are you interested?”
Jane looked at him in wonder, “You want me?”
“Yes, because I need someone I can trust. Eventually, it might even turn into a full time job.”
For the second time in 24 hours, Jane’s eyes filled with tears.
Naturally Jane accepted the job. She fit in well from the start.
It would be a few years before she could even dream it possible, but
eventually Jane became the manager, and later the proprietress of the
Atkins Jewelry Store.
Just ask Jane, she will tell you; “Honesty might hurt your end, but in the end it always pays”.
