Saturday, June 08, 2013

Thou Shalt Not...

© Guyspencer 2013

                                                            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”.

© Guyspencer 2013


Post a Comment

<< Home