On Courting (and Spanking) a Christian Girl; Chapter 5
© Guyspencer 2014
Over the next year or so, I saw Ruth get her delicious bottom spanked several times. Each time I had mixed emotions. There was a natural male protective impulse that made it difficult for me to watch someone spank my darling to tears. On the other hand, it was the only time I was allowed to see Ruth’s bare bottom, and there was something amazingly erotic about seeing her firm bottom bounce, ripple, color and dance under her mother’s punishing hand. The routine never varied. I always sat to the left and restrained Ruth’s hands. The whole procedure was choreographed so that I saw little more of Ruth’s private anatomy than the twin summits of her bare bottom. Afterwards, and after she was again fully dressed, it was always my privilege to console her.
Ruth always accepted her punishments well. Strangely, it never seemed to bother her that my own parents never spanked me. Also, she took it as a given that I would spank her after we were married. In fact, the reason why I was allowed to see Ruth’s spankings was to prepare me for that job. Secretly, I couldn’t wait!
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In the meantime, we finished our first year of college. It was now time for us to become ‘officially” engaged. It happened at the end of a summer Sunday morning church service. My parents attended for the occasion. With a smile, the Pastor called the six of us to the front. Holding hands before the congregation, with our parents behind us for support, Ruth and I declared our mutual love and announced our engagement. Further, we declared that we were both “pure” and vowed to stay pure until our wedding, “as is God’s will”. As we tenderly kissed in front of the congregation, I saw many of the ladies dab their eyes with their hankies. Even men struggled to hide their emotions. We were a classically cute couple!
At our very next “meeting” following that formal engagement, Mrs. Marsh finally granted us “heavy petting” privileges. Finally our kissing and cuddling session could have a true “happy ending”. It took me a while to learn the delicate job of “doing” her, but from the very beginning Ruth had no problem “doing” me. To maintain a physical barrier to intercourse, we both were still required to remain fully clothed. “Fully clothed” with one practical exception; Ruth was allowed to unzip me and extract my manhood long enough to do her part. Any other procedure would have been awkward, messy, and likely painful.
So over the next few months I learned every nuance of Ruth’s sexy little body, but only by feel!
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That situation partially changed one evening when I knocked on the Marsh’s door and was met by Ruth in her pajamas. I was surprised! It was only the first week of the month. It would have been truly unusual for Ruth to already have accumulated the necessary three “zaps” this month to earn a spanking. Puzzled, I raised an eyebrow at Ruth.
She answered my unspoken question. “No,” she said, “This isn’t about ‘zaps’. I really screwed up today. I don’t know what got into my head, but I drove Mom’s car to the store and ended up doing something careless and almost causing an accident. A police officer saw it, and ticketed me for reckless driving.”
After a pause and a cough that might have been a disguised sob, she continued, “I’m afraid it’s the hairbrush for me.”
I was upset and disappointed with her, but I still hugged her. I had never been present for one of Ruth’s hairbrush spankings, so was unsure of my welcome. I asked, “Should I leave?”
“Oh no! I need you here,” she insisted as she hugged me tighter, and then she pushed me away so I could see in her face. She had real tears in her eyes, but still I detected that sparkle of promise that I had seen before. Immediately, I knew that whatever happened tonight would be memorable.
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She led me into the living room. Immediately I noticed a kitchen chair in the middle of the room. On the chair was a familiar hairbrush.
Mrs. Marsh appeared. She smiled a tight smile and favored me with her usual motherly squeeze. “Did Ruth tell you what she did Tim?”
“Yes Mrs. Marsh, she said she did something careless and almost caused an accident.”
“Well that’s part of it,” the lady agreed, “but it’s more accurate to say that she ran a red light and came within inches of having a high speed collision. If the other driver hadn’t acted quickly, your fiancé could be maimed or even dead now. Worse, the other driver and her two little children would likely have met the same fate! Ruth’s father knew before I did. I just got off the phone with him. I barely talked him out of using his belt on your darling. So we will deal with Ruth right now, and get this business behind us.”
That one word “we” reverberated in my head! By now I had attended several of Ruth’s spankings, and never before had Mrs. Marsh used the work “we”. Surely she couldn’t mean...
The lady broke my revere, “So Tim, now that you know the whole truth is there something that you would like to say to Ruth? She’s already heard what’s on my mind.”
My brain went a bit numb as I considered what could have happened. With that one careless act, Ruth had nearly thrown away our whole future! My horror at what could have happened lubricated my jaw. For the first time ever, I scolded my beautiful, sweet little fiancé. As it turns out, I did a very credible job! When I finally wound down, she was looking at the floor and blubbering miserably.
“Good job Tim!” Mrs. Marsh enthused as she took me by the arm and urged me towards the couch. I started to sit at the left side of the couch, the vantage point where I usually observe Ruth’s spankings, but the lady guided me to the center and indicated for me to sit. Still sobbing, Ruth automatically stood in front of me.
By now, I guessed what was about to happen, but Mrs. Marsh made it official:
She spoke in her ‘teaching voice,’ “Tim, I want you to give Ruth a good hard spanking. Then, you will observe while I finish the job with the hairbrush. OK?”
Doubtless my voice shook a little as I answered, “Yes Ma’am”.
She continued with a familiar warning, “Nothing that happens here changes any of our rules. Until your wedding, you may not spank Ruth unless I agree and supervise, and you aren’t allowed to remove even one item of her clothing without my permission.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Then just this once, you may remove Ruth’s pajama bottoms.”
She didn’t need to tell me twice! My hands shook as they reached towards the elastic at her tiny waist. I grasped her pink pajama bottoms and pulled down expecting a close-up view of a well-filled pair of modest panties.
But I gaped stupidly at the unexpected sight of Ruth’s triangle of curls!
Thinking that I had accidentally pulled down Ruth’s panties along with her pajama bottoms, I looked nervously up at Mrs. Marsh. She smiled, so I relaxed a bit.
“It’s OK Tim. The panties were just a temporary measure for a bit of extra modesty. But you and Ruth are officially engaged now, so we see no harm in reverting to our normal family discipline procedure. Go ahead Tim, take a good look! You’ve been patient for almost two years, so I suppose you’ve earned it.”
Ruth and I had been sharing certain intimacies together long enough that I was confident she wouldn’t mind, so I took the mother at her word. Restraining myself from the urge to touch, I look a long look at the place of my dreams! I admired the swell of her hips, noted her tan lines, and ogled the tantalizing lips that peeked through the bottom of her feminine triangle. Her bottom wasn’t yet in sight, but I expected a close view momentarily!
Then it was time to get back to business. Determined to put my own mark on this occasion, I stood and hugged the wet-cheeked girl. “This is going to hurt,” I said, “You could have ruined our whole life together before it really had a chance to get started.”
She sobbed her answer, “I know Tim. You have to spank me hard because I deserve it. You’re my man, so now it’s your job to do that. I’ll accept my punishment and I won’t be mad at you.”
Then I sat down in the exact center of the couch and purposely patted my lap. Without delay, Ruth crawled up on the couch, gave me a kiss in the cheek, and then put herself into position. Ruth’s weight pushed down on my lap, but a certain part of me pushed back at her. I wondered if she would notice, and what she would think of me if she did.
I looked down, and for the first time ever saw her bare bottom looking up at me. It was gorgeous, perfect! The twin globes were pure white, but that would soon change!
Yes, I considered this serious business, and I knew I had a solemn job to do, but part of me was in heaven! I wondered: Was it the same for Ruth? Was part of her as happy to be across my lap as I was happy to have her there?
By now Mrs. Marsh had occupied my old spot on the couch, so Ruth put her hands in her mother’s lap to be restrained. I raised the hem of her pajama top high, and then wrapped my left arm around her tiny waist, pinning her into place.
Following Mrs. Marsh’s usual procedure, I spoke gently but firmly to Ruth, reminding her why she was about to be punished. Then I raised my hand to almost shoulder height, and landed my very first spank to Ruth’s taut young nether flesh. She flinched, but there was no other immediate reaction. I stared at the hand-shaped pink spot on her right cheek, amazed that I possessed the privilege of putting it there.
I must have stared too long, because Mrs. Marsh broke my revere, “Let’s get on with it Tim.”
I nodded, and then obeyed, peppering Ruth’s bottom with mild stinging spanks as I had seen Mrs. Marsh do several times before. I took several minutes to apply this first “layer” of spanks. I started at the very top of her nether divide, and then slowly spanked my way all the way down her mounds to her sit spots, then peppered her thighs, and finally spanked my way down the backs of her legs halfway to the hollows of her knees. In the process, I spanked every square inch of her spankable territory to a uniform pink hue.
By the time I was done, she was squirming and sobbing.
Then came the first pause. I allowed my hand to roam possessively on her pink twin cheeks. Again putting my own mark on the occasion by slightly changing the routine, I required her to explain why she was being punished. She managed to sob out a satisfactory answer. Then it was time to start “layer two” of Ruth’s spanking.
The goal here is to use spanks that are just hard enough to build up an irresistible sting, but not severe enough to risk bruising. It took me a few moments to find the proper force to apply. My first efforts failed to produce the noise and the reaction from Ruth that I expected. So I carefully escalated the force of my spanks until Ruth was finally driven over the emotional edge, bawling and illogically begging for respite that she knew wouldn’t come.
By now her naked torso was performing a lewd horizontal dance in my lap, I gasped at the incredible sensation. The friction of her groin against mine threatened to drive me to climax. Her bottom flattened, roiled, and then sprang back to shape with each spank. As I spanked, it gradually took on a darker and darker shade of red. For some reason, her buttocks alternately tightened together and then opened, winking her little pucker hole at me.
By the time I had spanked my way down to her “sit spots”, her legs had become mobile. As I continued my duty, her kicks escalated. Finally, when she had lost all control of her legs, their movements became both vertical and horizontal. As her thighs opened, I was treated to glimpses of the rear aspect of her private parts, a heady sight indeed for any young man!
As those thighs opened, Ruth also unwillingly opened new spanking vistas for me, her tender, white, heretofore unspanked inner thighs. Each time I landed a spank there, she shrieked and slammed her thighs closed, only to forget and expose them again a few spanks later.
Somehow, my addled brain knew when I had completed the second “layer” of Ruth’s spanking, so I paused. Now her bottom, sit spots, thighs and upper legs were a uniform bright red, but still not at the point of bruising.
As Ruth bawled, I continued to restrain her, but reached over to caress her hair and the nape of her neck with my free hand. Finally she quieted a bit as she realized that she wasn’t being spanked.
Unsure when Mrs. Marsh would want to take over with the hairbrush, I looked at her for further instructions.
“You’ve done a good job so far,” she enthused, “I always knew that you would make a good husband for Ruth. You’re a Godly young man, and you truly care about my daughter. What more could a mother ask?”
I basked in this unexpected praise, but that didn’t tell me what to do next. So finally I asked.
“Oh, sorry,” she said. “We should have talked about that earlier. I will use the hairbrush on her bottom and sit spots, so just give her a few hard swats there and save the rest for me. But then finish off her thighs and upper legs with your hand because she doesn’t have enough padding there to take the hairbrush. OK?”
“Yes Ma’am,” I said.
“You’re a strong man so don’t use your full strength, but make this next part hurt,” she ordered.
“Yes Ma’am,” I repeated, as I raised my hand high for the first spank.
Using more force than before, I landed two hard and fast swats on each of Ruth’s sweet buttocks. Ruth shrieked and bucked with surprising strength. Those spanks stung my hand! Although doubtless Ruth wished that I would stop spanking her, doing so wouldn’t have done her a kindness. Her mother would just make up the difference with the hairbrush! So I continued my work until each buttock had absorbed six soberingly hard spanks. Then I briefly directed my corporal attentions to her sit spots, before moving down to her lower regions.
I took more time on Ruth’s thighs and legs, because Mrs. Marsh wouldn’t be visiting that part of her anatomy with the hairbrush. My swats here weren’t quite as hard since she had less padding in this area. Besides, my hand really hurt! This experience gave me more respect for Mrs. Marsh. The lady must have palms of iron! She had once spanked both myself and Ruth on the same evening, yet never showed the slightest strain.
None too soon for Ruth, I was done. I held the blubbering bare bottomed girl in place as I looked at Mrs. Marsh for approval. She gave me a silent “thumbs up”. Now I was done, but Ruth still unfortunately had a date with the hairbrush.
I spoke gently to Ruth, but was careful to remind her that this was only a pause and a slight change of venue. Purposely, Mrs. Marsh walked to the kitchen chair, picked up the waiting hairbrush and then sat. I helped Ruth to her feet. Still blubbering, she wanted to dance and rub, but I didn’t allow it. Holding her firmly by her upper arms, I led her to the chair and urged her over her mother’s waiting lap.
Mrs. Marsh took a moment to raise the hem of Ruth’s pajama top almost to her bra strap, leaving her naked from there down.
Then she spoke in her ‘teaching voice’, “Tim this hairbrush multiplies your strength, so use it rarely and then only with caution. I use it to ‘brand’ a bottom. By ‘brand” I mean to leave mild bruises that will hurt for the next few days as a reminder of the lesson I’m trying to teach. As Ruth’s husband I hope you have no need for it, but watch closely anyhow.”
Ruth knew what was coming, so she started wailing even before the first swat. The hairbrush flattened each cheek in turn as it did its noisy work. As loud as the hairbrush was in that living room, Ruth’s shrieks were louder.
As I watched the poor girl absorb her last few seconds of punishment, her legs scissored wide open, a distracting view.
As usual, Mrs. Marsh completed her “brush work” quickly, not wishing to prolong that portion of the punishment. So finally it was over! When Ruth had quieted enough to make conversation possible, Mrs. Marsh pointed in turn to the summit of each of Ruth’s cheeks and her sit spots. “Tomorrow there will be four bruises here. It will take about a week for them to fade, and she will feel a reminder whenever she sits for the next few days.”
Then she winked, but still spoke seriously, “I will see that you get a peek tomorrow, just for educational purposes.”
Finally, she helped the sobbing girl to her feet, and gave her a long hug, whilst mumbling calming, loving and forgiving words into her ear.
Automatically I went to fetch the familiar jar of skin cream. At Mrs. Marsh’s suggestion, I gave Ruth a long full-body hug. Then I sat on the couch and took Ruth back across my lap to gently apply the cooling cream to her livid bottom.
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Ruth jumped at the first touch of the cold lotion, but then quickly relaxed and actually purred a bit as it did its work. Because I had landed several spanks on her inner thighs, it was legitimately necessary for her to spread her thighs so I could reach that area. The wonderful sight before my eyes caused my temporarily faded arousal to painfully spring back to the fore. I knew that I would have to allow Ruth up soon, and then there would be no hiding my condition. I only hoped that both mother and daughter would understand.
Reluctantly, I finally helped Ruth to her feet. Still nude from the waist down, she sobbed as she ruefully explored her swollen and sore bottom with both hands.
“I think it’s time we get this young lady decent again,” Mrs. Marsh remarked as she extracted a pair of white panties from her dress pocket. Obviously, the lady had been thinking ahead! She handed them to me, so I helped Ruth put them on. I bent down in front of her, and then Ruth balanced herself on my shoulders as she lifted one delicate foot and then the other. Then I pulled them up, covering those wonderful curls that I hoped to see again some day. The panties were what I thought of as her “spanking panties”; white cotton, modestly cut, and loose in the rear for comfort on a recently-spanked bottom.
After repeating that routine with her pajama bottoms, Ruth was finally restored to full modesty.
As it turned out, nothing was said directly about my obvious condition, but that was probably why Mrs. Marsh gave us a stern reminder about The Rules before she allowed us the privilege of private “bedroom time” that evening.
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So hand-in-hand Ruth and I ascended the stair to the hallowed refuge of her bedroom. Her face was still wet with tears, but I was more worried about her thoughts. Was she mad at me for spanking her so hard? As it turned out, she quickly assured me that all was well.
But still, I “knew” that she would have no interest in intimacy after absorbing all that punishment. I expected little more than post-punishment comforting and snuggling. I knew it would be difficult, but I was determined to tamp down my own arousal and to not make intimate advances. In the weeks since Ruth and I had been granted “heavy petting” privileges, neither of us had had much need for self-gratification. But tonight I glumly expected to take my still-aroused self home for much-needed solo relief in my own bedroom.
I still had much to learn about women and about discipline! She was happy to cuddle against me for several minutes. She even shed a few final tears into my chest. When her hand first drifted down to my crotch, I pulled away, ashamed at my condition.
“It’s OK,” she cooed at me. “I see that you need some relief, but so do I. Do you think I’m terrible?”
Horrified at the question, I explained, “No! I was afraid that you would think I was terrible for feeling aroused.”
Soon, in full accordance with The Rules, we were laying side-by-side. She had me unzipped whilst my hand gently worked inside her panties.
For the first time in our brief experience with “heavy petting”, once wasn’t enough.
All too soon, the satiated girl drifted off to sleep. Knowing I wasn’t allowed to stay, I covered her, gently kissed her soft cheek, turned out the lights, and reluctantly closed her bedroom door behind me.
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I wasn’t surprised to find Mrs. Marsh waiting for me. She always stayed on guard until I left the house. But I was surprised when she invited me into the kitchen and poured me a cup of coffee. The truth is that I don’t like coffee all that much, but I took this as a signal that Mrs. Marsh wished to speak adult-to-adult.
“I hope I didn’t put you on the spot too much tonight Tim.”
“No Ma’am,” I replied, “It’s the same spot I’ll be in after Ruth and I are married, so I appreciate the education. And before you ask, everything we just did upstairs was within The Rules. And, (I think I blushed) it was the most amazing experience of my life. Thank you for your trust Mrs. Marsh”
“You were surprised at something weren’t you?” The lady said with a sly smile.
I blushed even more, as I caught her meaning, “I guess you mean surprised at how spanking Ruth, errr...affected me?”
She wouldn’t let me get away with a partial answer, “It wasn’t just you who was aroused, was it?”
“How did you know?” I asked wonderingly, “Yes, Ruth was affected the same way I was, and that shocked me. That’s what made it such an amazing experience.”
She smiled knowingly, “Let’s just say that spanking your lover is complicated. The discipline part is still important, but somehow sex is always involved. Hopefully reconciliation and forgiveness also are included. You two still have much to learn, but you’ve learned a lot tonight.”
“Forgiveness,” I said slowly. “That brings up something that has been bothering me. Can we talk Mrs. Marsh?”
“Go ahead,” she urged, “I’m listening.”
So I took a deep breath and asked, “Well tomorrow, Ruth’s bottom will still be tender, but her mind will be at rest and she will feel totally forgiven for what she did. She will feel like that episode is totally behind her. As her husband, it will be my job to spank her when she needs it, to give her that feeling, that feeling of having paid a price and then being forgiven.”
“Yes Tim,” Mrs. Marsh enthused, “that’s exactly correct. I wish more husbands understood their responsibilities so well.”
After a long silence she finally added, “So what’s the question?”
I almost wished that I hadn’t brought this up, but I dived in“The Bible tells us that nobody is perfect,” I explained, “But it also tells us that the husband must be the head of the family.”
By now she had apparently guessed what I was about to ask. So she nodded, but I could see tenseness in her forced smile.
The floodgates opened, I just had to ask! “So what happens when the husband misbehaves? How does a husband get forgiven? How does he pay a price? How does he forgive himself?”
Mrs. Marsh smiled that tight smile, and responded in a gentle voice. “Tim, some men are married for years before they get around to asking that question. It’s a question that’s not directly answered in the Bible, yet the answer is there if you know where to look. Unfortunately, that’s the one question that our church doesn’t allow a wife to answer, because it would ... lead to other questions.”
Not surprisingly, I was confused by that answer, but Mrs. Marsh wasn’t done, “You and Ruth have a premarital counseling session with Pastor Jenkins next week. I’ll see to it that he answers your question then, assuming that he feels you are ready. OK?”
What could I do but agree?
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With a hug and a fond smile, Mrs. Marsh sent the young man home, and then went upstairs to check on her sleeping angel before retiring herself.
She lay awake, awaiting her husband's arrival from his evening shift at the police station. Finally he arrived, and soon joined her in bed.
Quietly, they discussed Tim’s question. They knew that once the Pastor had answered Tim’s question, it was inevitable that Tim and Ruth would eventually figure out a certain family secret. They might ask questions. If so, lies wouldn’t do as answers.
Was the young couple adult enough to deal with that knowledge?
© Guyspencer 2014
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