Guyspencer Spanking Fiction Forum

INTRO & MAIN INDEX

2012-02-09T21:11:00.006-05:00

If you're not already familiar with the Library of Spanking Fiction, you are in for a treat. See the bottom of this page.

Welcome! I hope you enjoy what you read. First of all, if you are under 18, please go somewhere else. Unless otherwise noted, all of my work is pure fiction. All characters, places, and events are strictly inventions dreamed up in Guyspencer's mind and have no relation to real events, people, or places. This is fiction; please do not try to imitate anything from my stories in real life, particularly as they relate to children.
Spanking stories are for only a small subset of readers who happen to like this sort of thing. If that is not you, I understand 100%, I respect that, and I invite you to pursue whatever type of reading you enjoy. All of Guyspencer's stories are Copyrighted. You may keep an electronic copy for your own use, but please do not post my work anywhere else or publish in any way. That said, for those who ask nicely, I have been known to grant non-exclusive permission to post my work to non-commercial sites.

DISCLAIMER:
Some of my stories depict the spanking of children. I am conflicted about this, but spanking was a real part of my life and I see no reason to be so politically correct as to pretend that this stuff never happened. As a child, I was spanked at home, at school, and even at church. As far as I know, all my friends and relatives were spanked. My wife and I spanked our children. That is just the way life was.

INDEX:

Stand-Alone Stories:
*8PM (M/f, F/m, M/m)
*Appointment For Contrition M/F NEW!
* Asking For It Early (f/MF)
* Caught Cheating (F/m, M/m)
* Choices (M/f, F/m, f/m)
*Cutting the Cards (M/f)
*Daytona Beach Correction (M/F)
*Deliverance (M/F)
*Drop Your Drawers (M/F)
*Edna's Contract for College (MF/f)
*Family Hour (Mostly M/f)
*Grandpa’s Belt (F/m, M/m)
*Just 4 Kids, Part 1
*Just 4 Kids, Part 2
* My Big Mouth (M/m, F/m)
*Nudist Camp Spankings M/f NEW!
* Take Off Your Panties (M/f)
* The Governor's Daughter
*The Spencer’s (M/F, F/M)
*Knotty Pine (Mostly M/m)
*George Asks For It (FM/m)
*Reptile Dysfunction (F/M)
* Shower Time (?/?)
* The Great Escape (MF/fffffff)
* The Hysteria Treatment
*Their First Punishment Spanking (M/F)

The "Sara's Dutch Uncle" Series:
*Sara's Dutch Uncle: Part 1   NEW!
*Sara's Dutch Uncle: Part II NEW!
*Sara's Dutch Uncle; Part III NEW!
*Sara's Dutch Uncle; Part IV NEW!

The "Instant Fatherhood" Series:
* Instant Fatherhood, Part 1 ( M/f)
* "School Troubles" I. F. Part 2 (M/f)
* "Caught Eavesdropping" I.F. Part 3 (MF/f)
* "Jenny Learns a Lesson" I.F. Part 4 (F/f, f/F,M/F)

The "Detention" Series
* "Detention with Corporal Punishment   Part 1"
* "Detention with Corporal Punishment Part 2"
* "Detention With Corporal Punishment Part 3"
* "Detention With Corporal Punishment Part 4"

"The Date" Series:
*Part 1 (MF/f, MF/m)
*Part 2 (M/f)
*Part 3 (m/f)

Some Guyspencer stories posted at: spankinglife.com
"Oiling the Belt"
"Triplets"
"My Punishment letter"
"Passing the Torch"
"The Question"
"Sweet Confusion"
"The Spencers"
"School Remembrances"

I you love spanking fiction, you will love The Kilahara Library of Spanking Fiction You will find over 17,000 stories by many authors (yes, including Guyspencer). It's a free, noncommercial site with no advertisements, popups or other such junk. It does require a quick registration.

Appointment for Contrition M/F

2012-02-09T21:08:00.001-05:00

Guyspencer Home Page

Appointment for Contrition

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

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

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

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

---------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------------

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

“Come in” a hearty voice called.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still looking down, Beth answered “Yes Pastor.”

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

Blushing beet red, Beth nodded agreement.

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

Beth sobbed, but could only agree.

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

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

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

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

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

“No Pastor.” Beth admitted tremulously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten strokes” he said flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me two please”

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

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

“Give me four please.”

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

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

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

“Give me six please.”

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

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

“Give me nine please.”

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

“Give me ten please.”

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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Nudist Camp Spankings

2012-02-06T21:13:00.002-05:00

Guyspencer Home Page

Nudist Camp Spankings

The resort is called “Sunspace Gardens”. My family has been vacationing there annually since before I was born. We have a standing reservation for the first three weeks of May.

Sunspace Gardens is 100 acres of steamy rural south Florida, guarded by an 8 foot high opaque fence. Inside are campgrounds, sporting facilities, an Olympic-sized pool, a playground for us kids and even a restaurant. That fence represents a huge cultural divide. Outside is the normal world, a place where people walk around clothed. Inside, the wearing of clothing is rare.

Sunspace is owned & operated by a skinny old man named Morey. Morey and his golf cart are a constant presence, seemingly everywhere and into everything. I’ve known Morey since I was a baby. Rain or shine, I’ve never seen the man dressed in more than a baseball hat. His closet (if he even has one) must be as empty as his underwear drawer.

Our family owns a classic Airstream trailer that never leaves the park. Morey stores it for us in a special area of the park along with dozens of others. When we arrive, he uses a little tractor to pull it to our campsite. We love that part because Morey always lets us kids ride in our trailer for the short trip. On the day we leave, we usually get another ride because Morey is typically anxious to clear our campsite for the next customer. Of course, now that I’m a 14 year-old young lady, I’m getting too old for these childish things. But still I ride with my younger brother and sister…just to supervise.

Regardless of what the title to this story says, we hate the label “nudists”. The new term is “naturists”. When we’re home, our parents do their best to blend in with the neighborhood. They want everyone to understand that we’re not weirdos. Yes, there is a high fence around our back yard and we go out there nude, but that’s only on weekends. All of our friends (and their parents) know that it’s OK to come by our house Monday through Friday and nobody will be naked. And we have other rules: Even if you knock on our front door on the weekend, whoever answers will be decently covered and you can enter our living room without encountering nakedness.

Yes, some of the neighborhood kids figure out ways to peek at us. Isn’t that creepy? And yes, some are caught and spanked by their parents. Too bad!

Sure! My friends ask me questions, so I just answer them. It’s no big deal. I tell them that we’re actually pretty normal. For example; a closed bedroom or bathroom door means the same thing in our house as it does in theirs. You would be surprised how many people ask me about spanking! Yes, spanking is one thing that’s a bit different in naturist families since modesty isn’t an issue. Obviously, having to drop our pants is neither embarrassment nor punishment for us. But being spanked in front of your brother and sister is still embarrassing! When we “get it” it usually happens in the family room, and the whole family is often present. And yes, duh! We get it on the bare bottom.

On vacation, you will find all five of us at Sunspace Gardens, and we will be naked the entire time. It sure makes packing easy! It’s all about “body acceptance”. After ten minutes at Sunspace, you totally stop thinking about other people’s bodies. Even a developing girl like me can walk around freely without stares. Sunspace prides itself on being a family camp. Nothing sexy or weird is allowed in public areas of the camp. Any couples engaging in more that a chaste “peck on the cheek” will be quickly encouraged to seek privacy.

Morey has mixed emotions about kids. Most of the regular campers are beyond parenting age, so they complain when us kids fool around or make too much noise. Naturally, Morey doesn’t want to lose customers on our account. On the other hand, Morey understands that young people hold the future for the naturist movement. In fact, he says that a lot. For the same reason he also tries to make the camp friendly to “20-something” young adults, although they cause their own brand of troubles.

It was one of Morey’s solutions to the “20-something” problem that got me into trouble. But I’m getting ahead of myself!

Morey isn’t a shy kind of guy. When there’s a problem with a member (or a member’s kid) his style is to directly confront the problem. I can tell you from personal (and painful) experience; my parents react to Morey’s concerns. A few parents take their kids to the privacy of their camper for a spanking, but not mine. To convince Morey they’re serious, most parents, including mine; “take care of business” right on the spot. It’s funny that the old folks are usually the ones to complain about noise, but I don’t recall any of them complaining about noise from a spanking! Yes, it’s embarrassing, but it’s over quickly. There are lots of kids in the camp, all naked, so it isn’t terribly unusual to see one of us with a red bottom.

But sometimes, just a hand spanking wasn’t enough. The most common shade tree in the camp is the “umbrella tree” (AKA Schefflera). Each bunch of leaves on the umbrella tree is connected to a stick about 2 feet long. That stick has a large knob at one end that makes a fine handle. Pick a nice fresh stick, and then snap the leaves off the end and you have a fine switch. Ask me how I know!

Usually, if my father uses a switch on us, it’s just for a few swats to “reinforce the lesson” after a hand spanking. I’ve seen a few of my friends get serious whippings with those umbrella tree switches, but it only happened to me once.

There I go getting ahead of myself again!

Sunspace Gardens is vaguely separated into two halves. There’s the “camp” half, that’s where the trailer sites and all of the buildings are. The other half is a tropical hammock officially designated as a “wetlands area”. That means that Morey isn’t allowed to develop that area. Dividing the halves is the trailer storage area. Nobody is allowed in the trailer storage area. Beyond the trailer storage area, at the edge of the wetlands area, are signs that say “Couples only area. No unescorted minors.”

So now you’re probably thinking, “Why does a family-oriented naturist resort need a ‘couples only’ area?” In the answer to that question lies one of Morey’s answers to his “20-something” problem.

Morey insists on calling it the “Primitive Camp”. That’s how he got the permit to put it in the wetlands. Everyone else calls it the “Honeymoon Camp”. It has several tiny cabins separated just enough for privacy. Nearby is a clearing where folks congregate to do the loud, hedonistic things that “20-somethings” enjoy, all without disturbing the “family” part of the resort. Each site consists of a raised deck with a cabin that’s little more than a screened-in lean-to with roll-down canvas to keep out the summer rain. Each cabin has a large double-size cot. When the mosquitoes aren’t bad, most of the occupants of these camps move their cots outside to sleep (and likely copulate) under the stars.

Can you see why the “honeymoon camp” poses such a temptation to a barely teenaged girl? Oh but wait! I’m getting ahead of myself again.

The wetlands area wasn’t totally unknown to us kids. Herb, a nice retired biology teacher often organizes nature tours for us during times when all's clear at the honeymoon camp. Herb pointed out that there were no umbrella trees in the wetlands area, because they aren’t native to Florida. This didn’t seem important at the time.

We learn a lot about what happens at the honeymoon camp by listening to adults talk to each other. One guy said, “Those young couples use our pool and then go off to their honeymoon camp to drink beer, play their guitars, and screw.” Of course, I had no special interest in watching people drink beer or play guitars. But that last thing…

Sid also piqued my interest. He’s a local guy, a carpenter I think, and a regular at the honeymoon camp. He sets the old folk’s tongues wagging by bringing a different girl nearly every weekend. I think Sid likes me a little; I catch “those looks” sometimes. I know I'm interested in him! He has a compact body without an ounce of flab.

The girls he brings are usually newbie’s. You can tell by their tan lines, their shyness, and their wide eyes that this is their first time in a naturist resort. Walking around clothed at Sunspace is almost as rude as strolling downtown nude, so members are expected to strip off the minute they park their cars. Thus, we get to see those girl’s first publicly nude moments. It’s entertaining!

One day, as I watched Morey gather Sid, Sid's latest girlfriend, and their stuff into the golf cart for the ride to the honeymoon camp, temptation finally won me over. I just had to spy on the honeymoon camp!

It was actually the next day before I got up enough nerve to try it. I slipped away from the rest of the kids and eased myself out of camp. To get to the wetlands area, I had to walk through the trailer storage area, and that was my undoing.

You see, Morey felt obligated to maintain tight security in the trailer storage area, and had recently installed TV cameras with monitors in the office. Matilda, the nattily dressed nude lady who ran the office, for once happened to be paying sufficient attention to catch the movement on the screen. I learned later that she had run outside and flagged down Morey, who happened to be passing by in his golf cart. Unfortunately, Matilda had recognized me, so Morey picked up my dad and went charging towards the storage area.

Meanwhile, I followed a path towards the rear of the wetlands area where I knew I would find the honeymoon camp. 50 yards from Sid’s cabin, I slipped off the trail and crept from tree to tree until I could peek at Sid and his girlfriend. With my heart in my throat, I watched them for what seemed forever. I had a great view of the action. What were they doing? To my disgust, they were…making lunch.

That’s when I felt the hand on my shoulder. I screamed.

Startled, Sid and friend both looked our way, but I couldn't see them because I had turned to see who had me. You guessed it! It was Daddy.

“It’s just me and my daughter” my father said loud enough for them to hear. “I think she has something to say to you. Can we come over?”

In a puzzled voice Sid replied “Sure! Want a beer?”

Urged along by that firm hand on my shoulder, I walked up to Sid’s cabin, enduring their puzzled stares.

Daddy ignored the beer offer, instead commanding me, “Tell then what you were doing .”

“Errr…I was watching you.”

Still uncomprehending, Sid asked, “Watching us?”

“She means she was spying on you…peeping” my father said helpfully. “The Honeymoon camp has quite a reputation you know.”

“Primitive Camp,” Morey, (who had just appeared) corrected.

Light finally dawned in Sid’s eyes, “So you were hoping to see us do something other than prepare lunch I suppose.”

My face felt hot. I studied the ground minutely, then my toes. “Maby” I finally admitted.

Then Morey jumped into the act, his face was like a thundercloud. “Little miss” he bellowed, “Do you have trouble reading signs?”

It was at this point that I turned on the waterworks, not that my blubbering helped. My father simply slapped my all-too-convenient bare bottom and ordered “Stop that noise!”

He continued, “You’re going to apologize to Morey and Sid and errr…”

“Jane” Sid’s girlfriend said, holding out her hand to Daddy.

“Nice meeting you Jane.” Daddy replied. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

She shrugged graciously (and for course, nudely).

“Well” Daddy said firmly, “Apologize and then we’ll deal with your punishment.”

The punishment was no surprise, I just wondered if it would happen right there or back at the camp. Starting with Morey, then working my way around to Sid, Jane, and my father, I blubbered out four incoherent apologies.

Ignoring me for a moment, Daddy took Morey aside. They had a short, but earnest talk. To my relief, Morey jumped onto his golf cart and disappeared without another word. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t have been so relieved had I known where he was going.

The question of venue for my spanking was soon settled; “I think it’s only fair that you two watch this girl get properly punished.” My father offered.

Sid agreed a bit too quickly, “If that’s your choice, it’s OK with us.”

Sid’s cabin was built on a deck that was raised above the ground to about chair height. Daddy sat on the deck and looked at me purposely. I knew what I was supposed to do! Since everyone in this scene was nude, there was no pre-spanking wardrobe discussion! Naturally, this would be an au naturel spanking. I put myself over Daddy’s lap.

Daddy’s “camp” spankings were usually energetic, but brief. They last just long enough to redden my bottom and get me howling in full voice. Usually, I have sort of an “out of body” experience. After the first minute or so, it’s as if I’m watching myself get spanked, only from a distance. Yes, I'm still getting spanked, but it's like I’m not really there.

Daddy didn’t let that happen this time. This spanking was a masterpiece of parental corporal punishment! It started slowly while he lectured me, emphasizing his “bullet” points with spanks. I was momentarily happy when the lecture was finally over, but that’s when the “real” spanking started! He didn’t miss a square inch of my bottom. He took enough time between spanks to ensure I got the full effect of each blow. He even spanked parts of me that he had never bothered with before.

Also, he kept me “present” for this spanking by pausing often to ask me questions about why I was being punished. Because my mind wasn’t allowed to depart, I even stayed cognizant of what was happening around me. For example, I noticed that Jane was squirming and blushed. Back then, I wasn’t experienced enough to guess that she was getting “turned on”.

I also noticed that the noise of my spanking had attracted couples from elsewhere in the “honeymoon camp”, who now stood in a respectful semi-circle. I couldn’t see Sid, so I properly guessed that he had stationed himself behind me for a grandstand view of the proceedings. I was making too much noise to hear the return of Morey’s gulf cart.

Suddenly Daddy stopped the spanking. At this point, it had probably been among the worst spankings of my life, but somehow it felt incomplete. It was missing Daddy’s trademark parting “scorchers” to my sit spots. Without his usual post-spanking tenderness, Daddy urged me back to my feet. Looking around, I saw that Sid was now sitting on the edge of the deck, a few feet from my father. Incongruously, he was balancing his Styrofoam cooler in his lap. (Later, I figured out that he was hiding an erection. Erections aren’t as common as you might think in a naturist camp, but I notice that men always sit down to hide them. If you ask me, that just makes it more obvious.)

Then I saw the golf cart, and then Morey. My eyes widened when I saw what he had in his hand; several umbrella tree switches! I guessed that Daddy must have sent him for them. Ever helpful, he handed the bouquet of switches to Daddy. He selected the longest, greenest switch in the lot and swished it through the air experimentally. It made a noise like a snake!

I’m afraid I disgraced myself, begging piteously that I had already been spanked enough. Ignoring my entreaties, Daddy purposely gripped my left shoulder with his left hand, and moved me to a clear spot several steps away from the raised deck. The onlookers backed up several steps to make room for us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daddy's right hand raise that switch raise high in the air. Then there was a whistling sound followed by a line of terrible burning pain across my already tender nates. My urgent attempts to outrun that stinging switch were foiled by his rigid grip on my arm. My father commanded me to stand still for my punishment, but it was impossible! The result was that we went around in circles, with about two terrible cuts from that switch per revolution. The onlookers backed away even more.

It was one of the worst moments of my life! The switch was inflicting terrible pain and I was afraid my father would become terribly angry with me, because I just couldn’t stand still. Worse, my world was spinning. As we went round and round, I saw the cabin, then the golf cart, then the onlookers, cabin, golf cart, onlookers… Finally my legs simply collapsed under me. I lay on the ground, blubbering.

Daddy helped me up. He seemed more determined than angry. It also seemed that he wasn't done with my punishment. Impassively, he led me back to the deck, and bent me over it. The deck had obviously not been designed as punishment furniture. My firm little breasts were pushed against its rough surface, and its rough edge dug into my hips. Soon I ceased to care about the roughness of the deck. I felt Daddy’s hand firmly pin me into place, and then he got busy again with that switch. This time, except for a bit of futile kicking, I couldn’t move. I howled and screeched as that switch made crisscrossing lines across my bottom and the backs of my legs.

Finally it was over. He left me to blubber on the deck for a couple minutes while he talked to Morey and Sid, and then he finally helped me to my feet. He was clearly not angry nor out of control, but still determined. He wasn’t yet quite done with me! “Get your bottom back to the camp and tell your mother why you got punished.” He ordered.

I started to take the small path that had gotten me there, but Daddy stopped me and gestured towards the larger drive. So I walked back, literally leaving a trail of tears. Daddy and Morey followed me in the golf cart, making a strange procession that called attention to my disgrace.

I found mommy, and tearfully confessed my spying on Sid and his girlfriend. She was mad at me, but after one look at my bottom said nothing about further punishment.

Finally Daddy appeared. I looked at him fearfully, but now he finally offered me the absolution I had been craving. On the picnic table outside our camper, he pulled me into his arms. I indulged in a long, cleansing cry into Daddy’s shoulder, and all was finally well. Mommy handed him a damp cloth, He used it to tenderly wash my face, and then to wipe my tears from his shoulder.

Finally, he bent me over the picnic table. As my brother and sister watched wide-eyed, he eased my pain by slathering aloe lotion over my welts. After a 2-hour nap in the camper, I was good as new.

I didn’t get to hear what happened at the honeymoon camp after we left, but I’ll bet we left them all horny as billy goats! I wonder if those extra switches we left behind found any takers?

Unfortunately, my switch marks lasted for the rest of our stay at Sunspace. My playmates quickly stopped noticing, but I was forced to detail my crime to several of the older campers who noticed them and asked me in various ways if I had been “bad”.

The evening of my punishment, Daddy took me aside for a “talk”. “We know you’re curious about sex.” He said, “That’s normal for your age. But it’s OK to ask your parents about things like that. You don’t have to learn by peeking at people.”

As my father said it, he kind of smirked. Even he is cool enough to know that no conversation with your parents could possibly match the thrill of watching Sid and his girlfriend actually “do it”.

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Sara's Dutch Uncle Part IV

2012-01-12T21:26:00.008-05:00

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Sara’s Dutch Uncle: Part IV

Just as there was a first time that Wilhelm spanked young Sara, there was also a last, but by then Sara was a young adult.

Sara’s spankings continued through her high school years with little change. Her need for spankings went a bit beyond mere discipline. She hadn’t yet sexualized the experience, but simply needed the occasional emotional release of a good spanking. When the time came for college, Sara completed her first two years in a local college. Since she remained living at home being supported by her mother, she agreed to remain governed by her mother’s discipline. Thus, her occasional spankings at Wilhelm’s studio continued.

During these years, the relationship between Mary and Wilhelm continued to evolve. They had been in an exclusive but discrete relationship for several years now.

When Sara received her Associate’s degree with honors, Wilhelm was impressed enough to send her to a big-name college. Still, Sara visited the studio occasionally for spankings during her frequent trips home. Sometimes she was spanked for genuine issues, but usually just to relieve the stress of academia.

By now, Sara was sexually active, a fact she shared with Wilhelm but not her mother. Wilhelm ensured that she took the proper precautions and had the proper medical care. During this time, Wilhelm used the hairbrush on Sara only once. That was when she had tearfully confessed to an evening of drunkenness and unprotected sex. Over these years, their spanking procedure remained unchanged; Sara appeared at Wilhelm’s studio wearing a loose skirt. She would position the spanking chair and remove her own panties before placing herself across her uncle’s lap.

Sara finally settled on one certain young man, John. Happily John was both a student at Sara’s university and a local lad from Sara’s high school class. Both Mary and Wilhelm heartily approved of John, and were hardly shocked then they announced their engagement near the end of their senior year.

A few days after the announcement, Wilhelm invited Mary for a quiet evening at the studio. Wilhelm cooked a rib roast in the studio’s tiny kitchen and served it with succulent vegetables, tiny new potatoes, and fine champagne at a table for two. After dinner, as they sat on a tiny terrace on the studio’s roof and looked over the town, Wilhelm asked Mary to marry him. To his consternation, she burst into tears. Totally mystified, he held her until the tears stopped. There was a long silence as they held each other.

Finally she spoke one word; “Yes”.

He was so startled that he had to ask her to repeat it!

_______________

A bit more than 30 days before the scheduled wedding of Sara and John, things weren’t going well. The pressure of planning for a wedding whilst studying for final exams was just too much for Sara. Whenever Wilhelm saw Sara and John together, Sara seemed to be berating John for something. John tried to be understanding, but he was clearly close to being fed up. Wilhelm felt like he had to act. Even if Sara’s attitude didn’t cause the couple to call off the wedding, he feared their problems would snowball and finally lead to misery or divorce.

He caught Sara by herself and confronted her; “Do you think that John really deserves the abuse you have been giving him?” At first, Sara looked like she would blow up, but instead; she tried to form a logical answer for Wilhelm’s question. It never came because there was no logical answer. She ended up sobbing on his shoulder.

Finally she calmed down. “You know what you need don’t you sweetheart?” he asked gently. Her face still buried in his shoulder, she nodded.

“Does John know about your little need for periodic spankings?” he inquired.

“I’m too ashamed to tell him.” she sobbed, “He’ll think I’m some kind of wacko!”

“What sort of message do you think he’s getting from your recent behavior?” Wilhelm asked reasonably.

She paused so long that he thought she wasn’t going to answer; but finally admitted, “He must think I’m some kind of wacko.”

“We can’t have that, can we Sara? He responded, “Because you’re really a wonderful young woman, and certainly no wacko.”

She shrugged.

“I want you to come by tomorrow afternoon wearing one of your spanking skirts. We’ll deal with this matter. OK?”

She knew what she needed, so as always, she agreed.

Then Wilhelm dropped his bombshell, “And bring John.”

Her head shot up, “I can’t! Please don’t make me Uncle Wilhelm.”

In the end, he convinced her, explaining that he couldn’t keep spanking her after her marriage.

_______________

They showed up at the studio the following afternoon. As ordered, Sara was wearing a loose skirt. Unsurprisingly, Sara seemed nervous. John just seemed perplexed.

Wilhelm got Sara by herself, “Did you tell John why he’s here?”

She bit her lip, “I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.”

“Then I guess it’s up to me” he said decisively. “Go upstairs and leave us alone until you’re called down.”

Without a word, she fled up the stairs, her skirt billowing behind her.

Wilhelm popped open beers for John and himself. They had a long “man to man” talk.

It was John’s voice that called Sara downstairs.

He met her at the bottom of the steps with a long hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he murmured.

“I didn’t know what you’d think of me.” She replied honestly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be OK.” He said. “Your Uncle told me everything. We can deal with this.”

Then in a firmer voice he said: “OK prepare yourself. I understand you know what to do.”

Sara looked surprised to hear the command come from her fiance, but she obeyed. She dragged the battered old chair to the middle of the floor. After looking anxiously from one male face to the other, she finally reached under her skirt. With a charming blush, she drew down her panties. With John watching raptly, she stepped out of them and picked them up. They were cream-colored, tiny, and lacy. Cheekily, she handed them to John. Distractedly, he stuffed them in his pocket..

Wilhelm sat down in the spanking chair. Looking over, he couldn’t help but notice a distinct tenting at John’s groin.

He motioned Sara across his lap. As Wilhelm flipped up Sara’s skirt, exposing her perfect but maturing bottom, John’s eyes looked like they were about to pop from his head. Wilhelm had already warned John what to expect, so he got right to work, giving her bottom his usual hard starting spanks. She bounced and squealed piteously.

Now that he had Sara frantically writhing, wailing, and crying, he gave John a significant look before switching to the main part of the spanking. As he started diligently applying his usual “stingers”, Sara forgot her modesty and started to kick and scissor her legs, giving John an inadvertent show. Standing directly behind his future wife, poor John looked like he was getting week in the knees. Wilhelm smirked to himself. It appeared the young man was in danger of making a mess inside his underpants!

Over the last few months, John had enjoyed ample opportunities to see his fiancee in the buff, but this was a whole new experience!

Wilhelm was spanking in a curious pattern. He had left Sara’s right buttock barely pink, but was industriously spanking the left one to his usual bright red hue. Sara had noticed the difference! The contrast in sting between the two sides made her nearly frantic. This was a new and very uncomfortable sensation for her.

Wilhelm stopped and waited for Sara to quiet down enough so that he could speak to John. “All you have to do John is spend a few minutes slowly spanking this cheek so that its color matches this one. Then pause to be sure that it’s right. Don’t be afraid to go back and re-spank. Finally, put some finishing spanks here and here (he indicated her “sit spots”) using almost all your strength. Then cuddle your woman and allow her to cry it out. Don’t rush her; she needs to cry out her frustrations and tensions.”

“Any questions?”

With a look of determination (if not confidence) John replied “No sir.”

Wilhelm urged Sara to her feet. “Sorry for the delay.” He told her, “It’s time for the ‘changing of the guard’. I’ll be upstairs until you two are done”

As Wilhelm reached the staircase, he looked back to see Sara brazenly doffing her skirt. He smiled, charmingly reminded of the time when Sara's mother had done much the same thing.

Upstairs, Wilhelm heard Sara’s spanking recommence. From the sound of things, John was a man who could follow instructions. It was two hours before Wilhelm heard them leave. From the sound of things, Wilhelm's impromptu “spanking lesson” had been a complete success.

_______________

Sara and John’s wedding came off as planned, two weeks after their graduation from the university. It featured a bit of a surprise. After the couple had taken their vows, they stepped aside so that the preacher could call the brides “parents” to the front. As the newlyweds looked on, Wilhelm and Mary, after a relationship of some 18 years, finally became man and wife. That evening, Mary moved into the studio with Wilhelm. Following a honeymoon cruise, Sara and John moved into Sara’s childhood home.

Although the four visit each other regularly, there was one visit that Wilhelm and Mary laugh about. It was the time that Sara came by the studio to blushingly ask if she could please borrow the old family hairbrush. Naturally, they made her a gift of it; no questions asked.

_______________

Afterward:

Since I created Sara, John, Mary and Wilhelm, I can’t help but feel a bit of responsibility towards them. So two years after that big double wedding, I slipped back to see how they were doing.

From all accounts Sara and John are doing fine. They've survived the usual issues of newlyweds, learning to live together whilst simultaneously enduring the pressures of starting their professional careers. I spied them out in a restaurant the other day, and they looked happy together. Sara was sporting a distinct bulge low in her belly, but was not yet in maternity clothes. One strange thing though; I saw her sit down very delicately with a definite wince. I don’t know what her trouble could have been!

Wilhelm and Mary are retired now and happily growing old together.

In the opinion of this writer, homosexuality is neither a choice to be made, nor a disease to be cured. Therefore, Wilhelm will forever be a gay man who happens to have chosen a lasting and exclusive relationship to a woman he deeply loves. I imagine he privately appreciates the sight of a sexy young man with the same remote, wistful and hands-off attitude with which a happily married straight guy enjoys the sight of a sexy young woman.

What’s their sex life like? It would be terribly rude to ask! All I know is that: 1) Their studio has only one bedroom and, 2) When you see them they seem happy and you’ll find little daylight between them. Does Wilhelm ever spank Mary? My guess is yes! But for all I know it could also be the other way around.

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Sara's Dutch Uncle Part III

2012-01-12T21:24:00.005-05:00

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Sara’s Dutch Uncle – Part III

Wilhelm had occasionally indulged in erotic expeditions back to his old haunts in Amsterdam, but had never “played” in the USA. After those first tentative intimacies with Mary, Wilhelm faced a difficult choice to protect Mary; “break it off” with Mary, or “go exclusive” by stopping his trips back home. It took all of his character and his Dutch stubbornness, but he stopped the trips. For Mary’s protection, whatever relationship they could manage would, at minimum, be monogamous.

Their relationship gradually evolved, although without sudden breakthroughs like what happened that day of Mary’s spanking. Two years later little else had changed in their lives except that Sara was rapidly growing up. She was now 16 and a junior in high school. The girl was shapely, beautiful, smart and popular in school.

Sara had grown out of her impulsiveness, but not out of her need for occasional spankings. There were the usual issues with teens; temptations such as alcohol, broken curfews, and the inevitable testing of authority. Also, Wilhelm believed that Sara was somewhat “addicted” to her spankings. Not addicted in a sexual way, but Sara seemed to need the stress relief from a good spanking. If she went more than six or eight weeks without a spanking, she became noticeably irritable. That very irritability usually led directly to the spanking she needed!

To his relief, Wilhelm rarely had to resort to the hairbrush. His hand spankings were usually more than adequate for the job. Fortunately his belt remained unused, but remained an official option.

---------------

One of Sara’s spankings was especially memorable:

In a rare return of her impulsiveness, Sara had been involved in a scuffle at school, and been sent home with a note. Naturally, Mary prescribed a spanking. As usual, Sara’s spanking was to happen at Wilhelm’s studio the next day after school. Therefore, Sara was to wear a loose skirt to school, although she much preferred tight-fitting slacks.

The next morning, Mary ensured that Sara had donned a skirt before she left for work. Sara had ten minutes between her mother’s departure and her time to leave for school. We’re unsure why, but unaccountably Sara rebelled just enough to change into slacks before leaving for school.

All day long, she wondered how Wilhelm would react on seeing that she wasn’t properly dressed for her punishment. Would he spank her over her slacks? Would he forget the whole thing? Would he (shiver) make her doff her slacks and then spank over her panties? The morning seemed to go on forever, but in the afternoon her nervousness increased. As the time got closer, the classroom clock seemed to accelerate.

With genuine reluctance she walked down the street to Wilhelm’s studio. She couldn’t rush home to change into the skirt; it was too far.

Feeling trapped and jittery, she let herself into the studio.

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow when he saw Sara’s slacks, but he greeted her as usual. It was Sara’s job to request her spanking, so he awaited events. Would she try not mentioning it?

Sara seemed nervous. She went to the bathroom and was gone several minutes. Finally she emerged and found her uncle working on a canvas.

“Err, Uncle Wilhelm?”

He swished his brush in thinner before granting her his full attention; “Yes?”

“I ahhh, was sorta bad at school yesterday. I’m supposed to ask you for a spanking.”

“Then why aren’t you properly dressed for punishment?” he asked mildly.

“I, errr, sorta forgot this morning.” She finally replied, avoiding his eyes.

“OK” Wilhelm replied in a level voice. “I need to do something first, then let’s talk.”

With that, he disappeared into his tiny office. Sara waited nervously, listening to the murmur of her Uncle’s voice behind the door. With dread, she guessed what was happening.

He emerged moments later, his face carefully blank.

“OK” he said, “Please tell me exactly that happened at school.”

With no way to sugarcoat it, she gave a fairly honest account of her misbehavior at school.

“Then your mother is correct” he finally judged, “You definitely need one of my famous bare-bottom spankings.”

The girl agreed submissively, but the matter of her slacks still hung between them.

With a deadpan delivery, Wilhelm dropped a bombshell. “OK, prepare yourself as usual.”

Slightly desperate, Sara replied, “But I can’t take my panties off Uncle Wilhelm, I’m wearing slacks.”

“Of course you can,” replied Wilhelm as if talking to a child, “You just need to take then off first.”

“But Uncle…”

He cut her off, “As you’ve probably guessed, I just talked to your mother about how to handle this. Prepare yourself as usual!”

With a sob, Sara’s hands went to the fastenings at her tiny waist.

He could have made things a bit easier for her by at least turning his head. That’s exactly why he didn’t. Her slacks came down, but then stopped just below her hips. Her panties were baby blue and amazingly wispy. She gave him a pleading look. He replied with his best “on with it” look. The slacks descended. She sat to extract her legs from them, first removing her shoes and socks. Stalling, she carefully folded her slacks and hung them over an easel.

She repeated the drama with her panties, first the begging look, then the glum acceptance, finally the descending garment. Again, Wilhelm made things difficult by keeping his eyes on her. Now Sara desperately wished that she had worn a longer blouse. It was officially against school rules, but she preferred blouses short enough to show a tiny bit of midriff. Thanks to the short blouse, her little muff was in full display. Despite the many bare bottom spankings that Wilhelm had given Sara, he now saw that part of Sara for the first time ever.

Surely Sara would have preferred to immediately start her spanking, but Wilhelm had no plans to reduce her embarrassment. He reminded her to position the spanking chair and then ordered her around the studio to lock the door and close the windows. He even sent her after a damp washcloth to wash her face after the punishment.

To her relief, he finally sat down in the spanking char. When she started to bend over his lap, he stopped her and motioned for her to stand in front of him.

“Tell me again why you were wearing slacks today?” he said, with a tiny bit of menace in his voice.

She started to speak, “I forgo…” but then stopped herself, remembering that Wilhelm had just spoken to her mother, and so must know the truth. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders, looked down and sobbed.

“Sweetheart, you lied to me didn’t you?” Wilhelm asked gently.

“Yes” Sara replied in a tiny voice.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever deliberately lied to me.” He said in a serious voice, “And over such a small matter! How will I be able to believe you in the future?”

She wrapped her arms around her uncle’s neck and sobbed on his shoulder. “How could I do something so stupid?” she blubbered.

He gave her a peck on the cheek, before gently disengaging her arms. “To answer my own question, I’ll believe you in the future because after I’m done spanking you for your folly at school, you will bring me the hairbrush and ask me to teach you not to lie.”

She looked him bravely in the eye, “Yes Uncle Wilhelm”.

Taking her by the shoulder, he guided her over his lap. With an almost fatherly pride, he admired her perfect bottom. Impossibly tiny down-like hairs reached from each side of her cleft. Last year they were touching, but now nature had spread her hips, preparing her young body for its future role. The widening of the hips presented more territory for him to spank, but it also pulled outward on the firm flesh, widening her cleft enough to come tantalizingly close to revealing intimate secrets at her valley’s bottom.

Automatically, she placed her right hand in the small of her back. He gripped her wrist, and pressed down firmly on her torso to restrain her.

He started, as usual; five hard swats directly to the fullness each asscheek. She bounced; ripples flowed through her buttocks with each blow. This part of a spanking never took over twenty seconds, yet Sara had never once lasted through it without totally losing control.

His dominance established, Wilhelm moved on to what he considered the “heart “ of the spanking, several minutes of sharp “stingers” that would scorch her bottom while giving her plenty of time to contemplate the error of her ways.

Sara had lost some of her earlier “drama queen” antics over the years, but still she didn’t take a spanking silently. She squealed, yelped, howled, begged, and made impossible promises. As usual, Wilhelm ignored it all.

Wilhelm didn’t bother to restrain her feet, so Sara was free to kick and scissor her legs. In doing so, she displayed her most personal anatomy. Wilhelm, being who he was, didn’t find the view especially stimulating.

Normally, when Sara was due to be paddled after her hand spanking, Wilhelm would cut the spanking slightly short. In particular, he would leave out his usual parting bruisers to her “sit spots”. Today, since Sara was being punished for two separate matters, he didn’t feel that such niceties were necessary. He continued the spanking to its painful conclusion, leaving a limp, sobbing and totally exhausted Sara.

The spanking temporarily over, Wilhelm suddenly became gentle and solicitous. He patted her back for several moments, making sure that she had regained her breath and her senses before allowing her up on her feet. She rubbed her bottom gently, danced a bit and started sobbing anew. Suddenly uncomfortable with her nudity, he didn’t invite her into his lap as usual. Instead, he stood and embraced his niece. Her face was a mess, smeared with the classic post-spanking amalgam of tears, mucus. drool & sweat. He remembered the washcloth and used it on her. That seemed to help.

It took ten minutes before she was recovered enough to climb up the stairs to Wilhelm’s bedroom to fetch the hairbrush from his bureau. He stood at the foot of the stairs and watched her climb; watched her out of concern for her stability, but also because the sight of Sara’s flexing beet-red buttocks retreating up the stairs was too fetching to be missed!

She returned with the hairbrush and found her uncle waiting in his spanking chair. She offered him the brush before stammering out an apology and a request to be paddled for lying to him. Soon she was back in the familiar position. He positioned her carefully, pinning her legs with one of his and insisting that she put both hands behind her back so he could secure them safe from the hairbrush.

Most people would have found the ensuing paddling hard to watch. Wilhelm steeled himself and then got to work, methodically marking her flawless bottom with the hardwood. Like all of his paddlings, it was severe but relatively brief. To Wilhelm, the purpose of a paddling was to inflict mild bruising to ensure sitting discomfort for a few days. He saw no reason to draw the process out. Poor Sara shrieked and bucked, but was pinned totally helpless for the duration.

Now Wilhelm faced the problem of soothing his niece again. He repeated his earlier methods, but now it took much longer. When he finally got her safely to her feet, he slipped up to his bathroom for a large bath towel and lotion. Back downstairs, he gently slathered the lotion on her bottom before wrapping her nudity in the towel. Finally, he invited his spanked and forgiven niece onto his lap and into his arms.

The spanking was a complete success. It was the last time Sara ever lied to her uncle.

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Sara's Dutch Uncle Part II

2012-01-12T21:23:00.001-05:00

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Sara’s Dutch Uncle: Part II

Needless to say, that first spanking wasn’t Sara’s last trip over her Uncle Wilhelm’s lap. Sometimes she made it a whole month without a spanking, but every two or three weeks was a more common interval. However, both Mary and Wilhelm noticed a slow but steady improvement in Sara’s behavior.

There was one spanking in Wilhelm’s studio that would have greatly surprised Sara had she been allowed to know about it, because it involved her mother!

_____________________

Wilhelm was gradually becoming more known in the community. He was active in local cultural affairs and fund raisers. Thanks to his relationship with Mary, nobody suspected his sexual orientation. In fact, many of the local women were quite jealous of the auburn-haired beauty that was so often seen on the arm of this distinguished, virile-looking man with the charming accent.

Just as Mary was good for Wilhelm, the opposite was also true. The two supported each other in many ways. In particular, Wilhelm was helpful in raising Sara, being the “father figure” in Sara’s life, babysitting, and countless other things.

Since Mary had a regular job, Wilhelm often did errands and handyman jobs for Mary. And then there was the financial help…

_____________________

Wilhelm had begun to notice that Mary was looking increasingly distracted. He asked her more than once what was wrong, but she never gave a clear answer. But one day Wilhelm was doing an errand at Mary’s house when the lights suddenly went out. He investigated and found a man in the back yard disconnecting the power for nonpayment. Wilhelm’s bank card quickly solved the matter.

That evening when he asked Mary why she hadn’t paid the electrical bill, she burst into tears. Wilhelm soon established that Mary was behind in all of her bills.

We should stop the story here to explain that Mary made just enough money to handle all of her normal expenses. Wilhelm quietly helped at irregular intervals with unexpected expenses, such as car repairs. But this was different. There had been no recent unusual expenses and Mary had been pretending that all was well.

Wilhelm made Mary lay out all her records on the kitchen table. A look at her last few credit card bills solved the entire mystery; Mary had made several amazingly irresponsible purchases. When her credit card maxed out, she had simply applied for a second one, and then another… Making the payments on all the cards had become an impossible task.

Wilhelm gathered the bills and demanded the credit cards. He would pay the accounts, and then cancel all the cards. They negotiated a strict new budget for Mary that would gradually pay back Wilhelm without Sara being hurt by the resulting austerity.

Wilhelm looked at Mary appraisingly. “If Sara had done something this irresponsible and this deceitful, what would you do?”

Mary’s already sad face collapsed into tears. She put her head on the table, her shoulders shaking in sobs.

Wilhelm sat patiently, and then realized that it wasn’t really fair to pressure Mary just then. “I need an answer to that question, but I’ll give you time to think.” He said. After an affectionate squeeze and a chaste kiss to her forehead, he left.

He got a call the next day. First she apologized profusely and thanked him for his help. Then she addressed “the question”.

“To answer your question, you know exactly how I would have punished Sara if she had done something as bad as what I did.” There was a pregnant pause, then a sniffle… “She has a study date at the library Saturday morning. I’ll drop her off and then come by the studio. …And, oh yes; I’ll be wearing a loose skirt.”

“You don’t have to do this…” Wilhelm began.

Mary cut him off; “Oh yes I do. I don’t think I need anything worse.”

“I agree.” Wilhelm said, “I just don’t want to force you into anything.”

“Don’t worry” Mary replied, “I’ve given this lots of thought. Feel free to do a good job on my bottom. I won’t expect to sit comfortably for a while.”

“I love you Mary” was Wilhelm’s only reply.

With a sob Mary replied “I love you too” before cutting the connection.

_____________________

As promised, Mary showed up at the studio the next Saturday morning, wearing a colorful loose skirt. She was full of conflicting emotions, and nervous as a young colt. Her head was a spinning amalgam of guilt, fear, frustration and sexual arousal. Mary’s sex life consisted of fantasizing about Wilhelm whilst alone in her bed; and then doing what comes naturally. Last night had been no exception, but the fantasy had included an erotic spanking. Although she had climaxed only last night, she was embarrassed to feel a distinct dampness as her spanking neared. Would Wilhelm notice? How would he react? Should she flee?

“How long do we have before you need to pick up Sara?” Wilhelm asked.

“The rest of the day if we need it,” she responded, “Sara is going out with her study group after they’re done at the library.

“Good,” he said, “I don’t want to spank you then just send you away. I want to be sure you’re OK first”

Wilhelm noticed her unease, but assumed it was mostly due to fear. To calm her down, he led her to a table, and showed her the progress he had made straightening out her affairs. “Are there any more surprises on the way?” he asked gently.

She answered honestly, “I made such a mess of things that I won’t be 100% sure for a couple weeks. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“As you know, this takes far more than an ‘I’m sorry’ to fix” Wilhelm said. “But we’re off to a good start. I’m really proud of your attitude so far.”

That made Mary feel better, but only for a moment, because now it was time for Wilhelm’s lecture; “I can’t believe that a wonderful person like you could be so dishonest. You were dishonest to yourself, to me, and to the people you borrowed money from. You knew you couldn’t pay it back on time.” Her face fell, but the lecture went on for several more minutes.

Finally he stopped and just looked at her. In spite of herself, she squirmed. She guessed that the next order of business involved her bare bottom.

“This is your last chance to opt out of your punishment.” He warned, “If you don’t, I’ll expect you to stay for the entire punishment, and it will involve a bruised bottom.”

She answered with a question;” Should I prepare myself now?

He nodded curtly. “I believe you know the procedure.”

She stood, moved the sturdy old armless chair to the proper place, and then kicked off her shoes.

Wilhelm stood, watching her next move with interest. He looked at her from the particular viewpoint that a gay man has for an intriguing woman. It’s not quite the same sexless ambivalence that straight men have when seeing see each other naked in the locker room, because femininity always involves a bit of mystery. She reached up under her skirt, gracefully pulled down her panties, and then stepped out, leaving them on the floor. Today’s panty color was white.

But then she did the unexpected: “Screw this” she mumbled, “We’re adults, let’s do this the easy way.” She reached behind her skirt, unzipped, and then unhooked. The skirt dropped to the floor. Wilhelm raised one eyebrow.

“Well that will simplify things just a bit” he finally commented.

Exposed from her waist down, Mary looked at Wilhelm’s surprised expression, and then looked down to his groin…nothing.

Regaining the initiative, Wilhelm sat down in the spanking chair and motioned Mary to stand in front of him. “Here’s what’s about to happen,” he explained. “I will spank you for your irresponsible behavior. It will be a hand spanking much like I give Sara. By the time I’m done, you’ll be sore and in tears. Then I’ll give you time to recover. When you’re ready, you will go to my bedroom and get the hairbrush from my bureau. It’s the same one you gave me to use on Sara. Then I’ll paddle your bottom for your dishonesty. Sitting will be painful for several days. Understand?”

“Yes sir” said Mary. (She rarely called him “sir”.)

“Then let’s start” Wilhelm said, motioning to his lap.

Mary’s bottom was a fuller version of Sara’s. Wilhelm estimated that it could take considerable more punishment that her daughter’s smaller model so he intended to deliver! Moments later, Mary was bouncing across Wilhelm’s knee as he landed the first few spanks; big ones designed to rob Mary of what little composure she had.

Mary squealed, and then shrieked, before dissolving into tears and incoherent blubbering. With the mood properly established, Wilhelm switched to faster, but “stingy” spanks. These were spanks just hard enough to build together into an unforgettable sting, but not hard enough to cause damage.

It was then that Wilhelm started to notice that Mary’s movements while across his lap were considerably different from Sally’s. In fact, they were distinctly erotic! Clearly Mary was finding this part of the spanking arousing. Some spankers would get angry at this point, but Wilhelm’s typically Dutch permissive attitude towards sex led him to assume that Mary’s apparent arousal wasn’t her fault. He simply ignored it, and continued the spanking.

When Wilhelm spanked young Sara, he usually confined himself to her buttocks and sit spots, with Mary, he felt free to range considerably further, taking time to redden her upper legs and outer thighs before making her spread her legs so he could spank her tender inner thighs. This made her screech anew.

Finally the spanking was over, but Mary’s movements weren’t. She continued to hump and “scrunch”, obviously in need of relief. In his earlier, “undecided” years, Wilhelm had gained some experience with women, so he knew basically what to do. Keeping her across his lap, he gently urged her legs apart before feeling for the natural lubrication. He was a bit clumsy at first, but with Mary’s eager tutelage he brought her to what must be called a massive orgasm. It was the first non-self induced orgasm that Mary had felt since her husband’s death. Although still sobbing from the spanking, now her shoulders shook with great sobs of relief.

Wilhelm kept her in that position for perhaps ten minutes, rubbing her back gently, watching her cry, and marveling at the color of her bottom. Although he had felt little sexual reaction to Mary’s arousal, pleasuring her gave him a surprisingly warm, satisfied feeling. A germ of an idea started to form...

Finally she regained composure and caught her breath. He let her up. Her face was a mess! Mucus from her nose mixed with mascara, which mixed with her tears and sweat. Wilhelm left her standing for a moment while he ran for a damp washcloth. He washed her face as if she were a child, and then sat down and invited her into his lap.

“Now you must think I’m some kind of slut.” She blubbered.

“No” Wilhelm murmured, “I think you’re sexually frustrated, and perhaps I’m the cause. I’m sorry I can’t be like other men.”

Her head shot up. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re the way God made you, that’s not your fault.”

“We will come back to this discussion, because I actually liked what just happened.” Wilhelm said, “But remember, your punishment isn’t over, not by a long shot. Are you ready for your paddling?”

“The sooner we start, the sooner it’ll be over.” Mary said soberly.

She climbed out of Wilhelm’s lap and checked her legs for steadiness before shambling off towards the bedroom to fetch the hairbrush. Noticing that her blouse was clammy with sweat, she pealed it off and left it draped over an easel to dry. Now she was wearing only short stockings and her bra.

The paddling was relatively brief but almost brutally intense. The pops of wood against firm bottomflesh were loud, but were easily drowned out by Mary’s wails. It took him perhaps two minutes to thoroughly brand Mary’s tush with the hairbrush, then a further couple minutes to thoroughly check his work and “touch up” a few spots that he suspected hadn’t received enough attention. His goal was a well-bruised bottom that would give a painful reminder whenever Mary sat down for the next few days. His mission was a resounding success. This time, Mary felt no arousal, only pain

Wilhelm again had to console Mary and help her calm down. He soothed her, reminding her that her punishment was over and all was forgiven. Noticing that she was again a mess, and was nearly nude anyhow, he suggested that she take a shower.

As she showered, Wilhelm gathered her clothes and put them in the washer. As she got out of the shower, he met her with a big towel. He helped her dry off, being especially careful to pat her bottom dry gently, then laid her on his bed for an application of lotion. Exhausted from her spanking, climax, and paddling, Mary quickly drifted off.

Feeling closer to Mary than ever before, Wilhelm, fully clothed, lay down next to her, enjoying her warmth and her nearness. He awoke two hours later to find a still-nude Mary unzipping his pants and pulling at his y-fronts to expose a massive erection.

His heartbeat accelerating, he closed his eyes and awaited events.

Her tongue felt exquisite.

Sara's Dutch Uncle Part I

2012-01-12T21:21:00.002-05:00

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Sara’s Dutch Uncle: Part 1

Walking downtown, the threesome looked like a typical family unit. The man and woman moved together with the easy familiarity of long-term spouses. The teen daughter, Sara, looked like a younger version of her curvaceous, auburn-haired mother. But looks can be deceiving. Mary and Wilhelm weren’t married, weren’t even lovers. That’s not to say they didn’t love one other, but they loved the way cherished family members love each other, not as lovers do.

Had you followed closely, you would have heard the girl address Mary as “Mommy” and the man as “Uncle Wilhelm”. The girl and the lady spoke in a soft southern drawl, but he spoke excellent English with a distinguished Dutch accent.

The term “Dutch uncle” can have two separate meanings. It could literally mean an uncle who hails from Holland, but it could also mean a stern, non-parental disciplinarian. As it turned out, Wilhelm filled both of these roles for Sara.

When Sara’s father unexpectedly died nearly 10 years ago, Wilhelm flew from Holland to attend the funeral and to help his brother’s family. As it turned out, the little toddler Sara instantly took Wilhelm’s heart. Also, in his own way, Wilhelm found himself taken by his brother’s young widow, Mary. Wilhelm was a successful artist, who could afford to live wherever he pleased, so he ultimately moved into an artist’s loft in Mary & Sara’s southern USA city.

The move was actually a huge sacrifice for Wilhelm. Wilhelm not only gave up his native country; he also had to suppress an important part of himself. In the 1970’s, gays weren’t welcome in the southern USA. To live near his niece and sister-in-law, Wilhelm was forced to hide his sexuality.

As Sara grew up, Mary and Wilhelm spent much time together and became fast friends. Although they never directly discussed the issue, Mary gradually figured out that Wilhelm wasn’t “the marrying kind”. He encouraged her to find another man, and she actually dated a few over the years, but none measured up to either her late husband or Wilhelm. They developed a comfortable, close, relationship, but Wilhelm never spent a night with Mary, not even once.

Given that he would never be Sara’s father, Wilhelm initially left most of Sara’s parenting and all of her discipline to Mary. This arrangement worked well until Sara’s early teens, when Mary finally decided that she needed help.

Sara was basically a loving and obedient child, but she had an impulsive streak that was becoming troublesome as she approached her teens. Sara’s impulsiveness created regular school discipline problems, and occasionally her mouth seemed to “run away from her” causing her to speak disrespectfully to her mother. Many times Wilhelm had to almost physically restrain himself from intervening between the mother and daughter, but he continued to resolutely leave all discipline matters to Sara’s only true parent.

That changed shortly after Sara’s 13^th birthday when Mary tearfully asked Wilhelm for help; “I’m afraid I’m losing control of her Wilhelm. I don’t want to lose my daughter”.

“I don’t think it’s all that bad,” Wilhelm soothed, “but how would you like me to help?”

“It’s getting so I’m afraid to spank her.” replied Mary. She’s almost my size now and I can barely control her. If she ever decided to really defy me, she just might win. Then I’d lose all control of her.”

“OK, I think I see your point.” Wilhelm said thoughtfully. “So you’re asking me to carry out Sara’s corporal punishment for you?”

“Yes” Mary said hopefully, “would that be possible?”

Wilhelm scratched his chin as he considered the proposition. “Yes, I suppose its possible.” he said with genuine reluctance “But let’s think carefully before we act. This is serious business. To keep your parental authority, you should decide when Sara needs spanking, and you should always be the one to tell her so. I would just be the instrument of her correction. Would that work?”

“Yes, that would work.” Mary said excitedly.

Over coffee, they discussed specifics. Then they decided to both think about it for a couple days before they finalized their plans.

The next Friday night, they continued their conversation over coffee. When they had covered all bases, they called Sara and asked her to sit. Mary made Sara a cup of coffee (with heavy cream and sugar) before carefully explaining the plan to her.

“But…but,” Sara protested, “If you both spank me, then I’ll get a lot more spankings.”

Wilhelm spoke up, “No Sara, you’ll get the same number of spankings as before. Only your mother has the authority to decide on your punishments. The only difference would be who actually does the spanking.”

Perhaps Sara thought that she could wrap Wilhelm around her little finger, or perhaps she wished to avoid the escalating tension between her and her mother, but Sara seemed remarkably agreeable to the proposition. Mary explained the “procedure” that she and Wilhelm had agreed to. Sara balked at the idea of going bare-bottom over Wilhelm’s lap, but the three ultimately found a procedure agreeable to all. It involved a loose skirt.

________________________

The change in her discipline was sobering to Sara. Obviously, she knew about her own impulsivity, and was always remorseful after she had yielded to it by doing or saying something stupid. So the spankings seemed scary but fair. Basically, she wasn’t overly worried; she knew that her uncle Wilhelm loved her, and she trusted him. Secretly, she harbored the hope that she could manipulate him into a lesser (or no) punishment.

She tried to be good, she really did! But a few weeks later the inevitable happened; she blew up at her mother over a stupid trifle.

It was Sara’s routine to walk the few blocks to Wilhelm’s studio after school. About 90 minutes later, her mother would pick her up on her way home from work. Sara and Wilhelm both cherished this time together. Sara could discuss things with her Uncle that would be uncomfortable or impossible to bring up with her mother. Thus, Uncle Wilhelm had gradually become Sara confidant, and even her confessor.

But today would be different.

Wilhelm greeted Sara as usual. Mary had called, so he knew everything, but he pretended ignorance. Although she normally wore slacks, he noticed with approval that today’s outfit featured a loose skirt.

She looked at the floor.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked.

Her voice was barely audible; “Uncle Wilhelm, I’m supposed to ask you for a spanking.” she mumbled.

“That’s why you’re wearing that skirt?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I’m listening, tell me the whole story.” Wilhelm said gently.

They sat down and discussed the entire incident. Wilhelm didn’t lecture her, but instead urged her to suggest ways that she could have defused the situation. It turned out to be a useful discussion. Wilhelm’s reaction was so mild, that Sara actually hoped that he would let her off. She tried her very best “little girl look” on him.

“The look” didn’t have the effect on her Uncle that Sara had intended. Instead, he took it as his cue to move the discussion to the “penalty phase”.

“Would you like to get your spanking over with now?” he asked.

“Do we really have to?” she said with pleading eyes. He would have been disappointed if she hadn’t tried, but now Sara was to meet a new side of her Uncle; the implacable disciplinarian.

“Yes Sara, we must” he said firmly. Your mother says that you have earned a punishment, and I can’t to change that. Now prepare yourself the way we discussed.”

She tried for one more concession; “Can we do it over my panties? …just this once?” she whined.

Wilhelm didn’t bother to answer. Seeing the firm look in his eyes, she shrugged before finally kicking off her shoes.

She checked his eyes again. When she saw only icy certainty, her eyes finally leaked a tear or two. With a darling blush, Sara reached up under her skirt, hooked her thumbs in her panties, and then drew them all the way to the floor before stepping out. They were tiny and pink. Standing awkwardly, she held the panties, unsure what to do with them.

The loose skirt was a concession to Sara’s concern about Wilhelm spanking her bare. The skirt, flipped up at the last second, would protect much of Sara’s modesty and preserve a bit of her dignity while still allowing Wilhelm full access to her bare bottom. In return, Sara had promised to always remove her own panties without objection.

Wilhelm told the girl to place her panties on the table. Pointing to a paint-splattered armless chair, he directed her to move it out to the center of the studio. “In the future, you will always put that chair right there…understand?” Standing nervously beside the chair, she nodded obediently.

He took a moment to think about his studio. The high windows guaranteed privacy, and he had already locked the door. Previously he had closed all windows to keep the punishment sounds inside.

With the “moment of truth” imminent, both Wilhelm and Sara were noticeably nervous. He told himself that this is just a spanking, not brain surgery, so he could do this. Mary had given him careful instructions. “She’s a girl, but she’s not fragile.” Mary had said, “It takes a good hard spanking to get through to her. The worst thing you can do is stop too soon. She’s a drama queen. She makes lots of noise at first and you’ll think you’re killing her, but don’t stop until the fight is out of her. You’ll know when that happens; she gets quiet and limp. And naturally, her bottom will be bright red.”

Mary had described three different punishments. The first, a long-hard hand spanking, would be the most common. The second added a second session with a hairbrush; the third substituted a belt for the hairbrush. Wilhelm fervently hoped that third option would remain theoretical only. He had no wish to use a belt on anyone.

A look into Sara’s wet eyes reminded Wilhelm to stop delaying the inevitable. He pulled her into a long hug. Both hearts thumped wildly. Finally he took her gently by the shoulders and held her at arms length so he could look her in the eye. “You know I love you and want what’s best for you right?” The girl nodded. “And you know I have to spank you good and hard…right?” That brought a new gush of tears, but Sara nodded again. “…And you’ll try not to hate me afterwards?”

Her response was emphatic: “No way Uncle Wilhelm. You love me and you’re just giving me the spanking I deserve.” Then in a small voice she asked “Will I get the hairbrush?”

“No” Wilhelm answered with relief, “Your mother said just my hand this time.”

Wordlessly he guided her into position. He lifted her hips and urged her higher over his lap so that her bottom was presented high. Her toes could barely touch, so she was forced to balance herself with her hands. He lifted her skirt high and draped it over. This simple action bared her bottom from the small of her back to the tops of her bobby socks. Twin dents formed in her butt cheeks as she clenched. She sprouted goose pimples from the studio’s cool air.

As a gay male, Wilhelm had a unique perspective to the sight of Sara’s undraped bottom. A perfect bottom is a perfect bottom, so he looked with frank admiration, but he could do so without guilt from inappropriate sexual arousal.

“Here we go” Wilhelm said, “Remember that this punishment is to teach you to control your temper and your words.” She nodded.

Wilhelm raised his hand high and delivered several solid slaps to the fullest part of Sara’s asscheeks. She squirmed, bucked, and squealed.

Wilhelm paused, fascinated by the color show. By now, Sara was sobbing continuously.

He started again, spreading his spanks around more and landing them unpredictably. Sara lifted a foot, and then twisted with all her strength, but it wasn’t nearly enough to disrupt Uncle Wilhelm. He pinned the girl in place and continued his task implacably.

Her struggling thwarted by Wilhelm, Sara got loud; really loud. All this drama simply reassured Wilhelm that even though Sara’s bottom was quickly reddening, the spanking was far from its goal. Unmoved, he continued with his grim duty, but now he could understand Mary’s concern. It’s not that Sara was being deliberately uncooperative; it’s just that she naturally reacted to spankings in a vigorous manner.

She was kicking so hard that he became concerned that she might hurt her toes on the studio’s hard floor, so he hiked her even higher on his lap. Now her legs sprawled wide, giving him new sights and new vistas to spank.

Finally, just as her mother had predicted, Sara began to lose her fight. She was still crying heavily, but without the screams and wails and without the wild gyrations.

He paused again to slide her back into a more conventional position, her bottom centered over his right leg. Sara’s skirt was obstructing spankable territory, so he readjusted it.

He started again, peppering her entire bottom with fast, stingy slaps for an entire two minutes. Now she was barely moving, and was crying with deep, exhausted sobs.

Remembering Mary’s final instructions, he finished with a final fusillade of very hard spanks to her sit spots. Sara bounced but offered no resistance.

Wilhelm stopped and critically examined his work. To his relief, he decided the job had been properly done. He flipped down her skirt. Sara had been thoroughly spanked.

It took a few minutes for Sara to recover her breath, her wits, and her composure. At first, Wilhelm kept her over his lap and gently rubbed her back as her sobs gradually diminished. Finally, he invited her up.

Wilhelm had expected her to do the “spank dance” that he remembered from his own youth, but instead the girl almost immediately crawled into his lap for a comforting hug and a last cry on his shoulder.

He wouldn’t have blamed his niece for being angry and standoffish after her spanking, but instead he found her cuddly, apologetic, and suggestible. Their post-spanking talk was even more productive than the pre-spanking talk.

Sara was still on her Uncle’s lap when Mary let herself into the studio. She took a few minutes to further comfort her daughter, and then slyly sneaked a peek at Sara’s still pantyless bottom. She mouthed “well done” to Wilhelm. Slightly afraid he had overdone Sara’s spanking, Wilhelm smiled in relief.

It had been Sara’s first spanking over Wilhelm’s lap, but nobody, least of all Sara, thought it would be her last.

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Asking For It Early

2011-08-09T20:43:00.000-04:00

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“Asking For It Early”

A mother knows these things; Beth knew that something was on her daughter’s mind. She had noticed it building all weekend, and knew that eventually her daughter would share. The teen had been on restriction for the last week, and still had five days to go. Restriction was a hated punishment for Sue, but was also hard on her parents. Every day Sue had to come home directly from school, change into her PJs and immediately start her homework. While on restriction, her bedtime was 8 PM, barely after dark.

Monday afternoon, Sue asked to talk. Beth took the girl into the kitchen, made them both a cup of herbal tea, and encouraged her to speak her mind. It took a while, but finally she blurted it out: “This waiting is hell. Can…can I please have my spanking early? My bottom is all healed from my paddling.” She added hopefully.

Sue had gotten in big trouble at school; cheating. With her parent’s blessing, the Principal had given her an epic dose of his paddle. Her bottom was too bruised for her parents to consider a spanking that night, so after a long talk she was sentenced to two weeks of restriction, to be punctuated by a bedtime spanking on the final evening. Today was only Monday; her restriction wouldn’t be over until Friday.

Beth considered the proposition. Truth was, the parents also hated the waiting. They truly hated to spank their darling, and wished that they could have done it immediately so the ordeal wouldn’t be hanging over the family like some Sword of Damocles.

Beth temporized: “I’ll discuss this with your father. The waiting is part of your punishment, so we may compensate by making any early spanking a bit harder. Is that OK?”

Sue gulped, but finally agreed.

“Either way, you’re still on restriction until Friday.” Beth warned. “Do you still want this? There won’t be any changing your mind. We don’t negotiate punishments.”

Wide-eyed, Sue agreed.

“OK then” Beth said in a firm tone, “I’ll tell your father that you want your spanking sooner than Friday. I don’t know what we’ll decide, but be in your bed every night by eight and be ready to be spanked. It will definitely happen one bedtime between today and Friday, but I don’t know which day. Until then, this discussion is over.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer that Sue was hoping for, but she hugged her mother and thanked her for listening. With her mind in a whirl and her abdomen full of butterflies, she went off to do her homework.

Her father arrived from work at the usual time. In her room, Sue strained her sharp ears for any hint of conversation between her parents. She heard nothing helpful.

Sue’s parents were grown-up California hippies. They were slim folks who still ate macrobiotic foods, wore oddly-shaped Birkenstock shoes, and felt vaguely embarrassed by the fat Silicon Valley paychecks their UC Berkeley educations commanded. Not surprisingly, they held a strange mixture of new age and traditional ideas. Politically liberal, they were environmentally conscious folks who literally hugged trees, and wouldn’t think of hurting any wild creature. Their parenting ideas however, were distinctly traditional. Though kind & gentle people, they took their parenting responsibilities very seriously, especially discipline. While spankings were rare in Sue’s home, they were always memorable events. Never spanking in anger, the parents always discussed and mutually agreed before announcing any punishment. Spankings were always at bedtime, simply because it seemed a tranquil, distraction-free time

Their discussion over, the parents called Sue down to supper. Both were cheerful, as if nothing had changed. Sue wanted to ask, but her mother had been clear that questions wouldn’t be welcome. Besides, part of her was afraid to know.

After supper, Sue helped her mother with dishes. She tried a hint or two, but was rebuffed. Back up in her room, Sue finished her homework and readied herself for bed. This was always the hardest time when she was on restriction because she was allowed none of her usual diversions. Given the definite possibility of an imminent spanking, today was even worse!

Shortly before 8, she went downstairs to kiss her parents goodnight. She received friendly hugs as if nothing was different. Sue went up to her room, turned out the lights, and listened sharply for any parental feet climbing the stairway. From past experience, she knew that bedtime spankings always happened shortly after “lights out”.

Heart pounding fiercely, she waited. Her parent’s usual spanking procedure was to come upstairs shortly after bedtime, turn on the lights, and then deliver a no-nonsense spanking. Then she would be hugged, forgiven, tears dried, and then lovingly put back to bed.

But tonight, nothing happened. When it became obvious that they weren‘t coming tonight, her heart rate gradually diminished. She felt mixed emotions, disappointment and relief. Drifting half asleep, she imagined herself bare-bottomed across her father’s lap. Her hand found a dampness somewhere below her bellybutton. For a few minutes, her heart resumed its frenetic pounding, as if she were really being spanked. Shortly later, the exhausted girl fell deeply asleep.

Tuesday at school felt really strange. Concentrating seemed impossible. Was today the day? Sometimes she felt relieved that she might get her spanking that evening, and sometimes she felt scared and stupid for trying to rush her parents. The day finally passed; another school day, another day’s homework, another quiet supper with her pleasant but inscrutable parents, another dull evening on restriction, capped by another early bedtime.

By now, Sue had almost concluded that her parents intended to make her wait until Friday, but still the act of turning out the lights and pulling up the blankets gave her a thrill of dread. Fifteen minutes later, Sue had drifted into that hazy, sexually-charged no-man’s-land between wakefulness and sleep when she heard a stirring outside her bedroom door.

Her parents crept into the bedroom and turned on the lights. Sue blinked owlishly.

The change was almost instantaneous: From the languor of near sleep, Sue’s entire body went on alert. Her heart started pounding, blood roared through her ears, and a flock of butterflies attacked her tummy. Automatically, she threw back the covers and sat up on the edge of her bed.

Mother sat next to Sue and put a comforting arm around her. “You probably aren’t thrilled just now, but we’re granting your wish. You get your spanking three days early.”

Suddenly choked up and with tears welling up, Sue managed to squeak in a tiny voice, “OK”.

Mother gave her an answering squeeze, then said, “First, take off those pajamas”

“I’m…I’m not wearing panties” Sue warned in a vulnerable voice, looking meaningfully at her father.

“Modesty is good” mother said firmly, “but cheating calls for a serious punishment. They come off.”

Sobbing slightly, Sue relinquished her pajama top, then stood and slid her bottoms to the floor. She stood before her parents with her newly-blossoming body on display. Her father squirmed uncomfortably.

Sue stood in the classic pose of the unwillingly-nude maiden. One arm across her burgeoning breasts, the other hiding her lowest curls. Both parents thought to make her uncover herself, but both simultaneously came to the same decision: Their job was to punish Sue, not to heap on extra humiliation.

The father cleared his throat, “Explain to us why you’re being punished”.

Sue choked out the sad, disgraceful story.

“And why was that wrong?”

Through increasing sobs, Sue managed a reasonable explanation.

“You explained that pretty well” the father said. “Is there anything you wish to say before we start?”

Struggling to control her waterworks, Sue shook her head.

Mother crooked a finger at her, “Then let’s start. I’ll give you a good warm-up spanking. Then your father will finish your punishment with the hairbrush.”

For the first time, Sue noticed the waiting hairbrush and fully realized its implication. She had only felt that hairbrush once before, and was deadly afraid of it.

Sue lost it.

It took a few minutes for mother to calm Sue down and coax her across her lap.

There’s really nothing special to say about the hand spanking that followed, except that most would consider it far more than just a “warm-up” spanking. Beth was almost clinical in her thoroughness as she spanked every inch of Sue’s bottom & thighs to a livid shade of red. Sue did her best to cooperate, but still she screeched and twisted and kicked. Twice she almost twisted herself off of her mother’s lap, but each time Beth patiently and implacably repositioned her, and then started anew.

Battling conflicting emotions, Father watched the action with increasing unease. His daughter’s blossoming nude body forcibly reminded him of the first time he had undressed Beth, then his teenaged future wife. That had been among the most memorable, and most stimulating, events of his life. As he watched his daughter’s bottom bounce, squirm and redden under her mother’s punishing hand, he was horrified to feel an unwelcome swelling. He wanted to flee and leave Sue’s punishment to Beth, but feelings of parental responsibility kept him rooted to the spot. He knew now that he couldn’t take his nude daughter across his lap. That would be too much like incest. He needed another plan.

Finally Beth’s task was over. Beth rubbed her daughter’s back until her crying diminished, and then helped her to her feet. Both parents watched with wet eyes as their daughter pranced, sobbed, and rubbed her livid bottom.

______________

As it turned out, Sue’s parents had been happy to grant her request to take her spanking early. They hated the wait almost as much as she. However, Sue was never told the story of why she wasn’t spanked until Tuesday.

Sue’s father, Fred, was hardly an experienced spanker. Uncomfortable with his feelings for his quickly-developing daughter, he greatly preferred to leave Sue’s rare spankings to his wife. He was even less experienced with the hairbrush. No weakling, he dared not wield it with his full strength, but was equally afraid of sending the wrong message by spanking too softly. However, he agreed with his wife that Sue deserved the hairbrush and that it should be him who “did the job”. What to do?

It was Beth who provided the answer that Monday afternoon while the two had been talking. In an act of sacrifice only a loving mother could make, Beth offered her own bottom for her husband to practice on.

That Monday night, when sure that Sue was asleep, they retired to their bedroom. Beth disrobed. Faking a confidence he didn’t really feel, Fred ordered Beth to place her still-nubile body across his lap. She struggled to hold back her tears as Fred warmed her bottom with a short but energetic hand spanking. Once her bottom was nicely pink, she carefully buried her face in a pillow while Fred brandished the hairbrush, trapped her legs with one of his, and firmly restrained her torso. They had agreed on a safety signal so Beth could stop proceedings, but Beth had no plans to use it.

Steeling himself, Fred raised the hairbrush

While Beth bucked and squealed, Fred laid four scorching spanks on each of his wife’s buttocks, then two firm spanks to each sit spot.

The agreed spanking delivered, and feeling a bit like a bully, Fred comforted his sobbing wife. After a survey of the “damage” they agreed that Fred’s swing had been sufficiently calibrated.

The mutual “comforting” that followed evolved into the best sex the couple had enjoyed in ages. Though enjoyable, this sudden connection between sex and spanking served to discomfort Fred even more at the prospect of spanking his teenaged daughter.

But that happened yesterday; now Fred had to deal with today’s drama…

______________

Finally Sue’s sobbing decreased. As her senses returned, her eyes focused; focused on that damn brush! Against her will, her eyes shifted from the brush to her father. Fred caught the look. Ready or not, it was time for the father’s part in this spanking.

He held out his arms and she came to him. He wrapped his arms around her, but mindful of her nakedness, didn’t offer his usual full-body hug. The result was awkward, but better than nothing. He stared into her face; partly to assure her attention, and partly so he wouldn’t look at her body. “Are you ready to finish this?” he asked.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Spankings are for punishment” he said “but it’s also the way we teach you important lessons that you demonstrate you need. What’s today’s lesson?”

“D…d…don’t cheat?”

“That’s good” Father agreed, “But ‘cheating doesn’t pay’ is better. It’s not just cheating in school, but all kinds of cheating, such as cheating at your job, or cheating in relationships. All kinds of cheating can lead to trouble. Honesty is almost always better.”

“So what’s tonight’s lesson?”

“Cheating doesn’t pay.” Sue replied dutifully.

“Good” Father enthused, “And just to help remind you of that lesson, we’ll fix your bottom so that you feel a bit of pain whenever you sit for the next few days. Whenever you feel that pain, that’s your cue to remember tonight’s lesson, OK?”

Without enthusiasm, Sue agreed.

Father swallowed hard, picked up the hairbrush, and continued. “OK, assuming you cooperate, this can be over quickly. Your bottom is nice and red, but I intend to add some hairbrush marks that you’ll feel for the next few days.”

Resigned to her fate, Sue started to bend over her father’s lap, but he stopped her.

“No. Let’s do this another way” he said quickly.

Standing, he rearranged the pillows on Sue’s bed, and then motioned her onto it. “Lay down on your bed with your knees under you. Now hug this pillow and don’t let go.”

Fred picked up the hairbrush and looked at his daughter. This position, with her bare bottom jutting into the air, hid some of her charms but accentuated others. It would have to do.

“The better you cooperate, the sooner we’ll be done. So try to hold that position.”

“SPLAT” the hairbrush made an amazingly loud sound as it collided with Sue’s right buttock. She gasped and rocked forward, but grimly stayed in place.

Deliberately, the father delivered 15 more scorching blows to Sue’s bottom, each hard enough to leave a lasting brush-shaped mark. He distributed them evenly, five to each cheek, three to each sit spot. By the time he was done, Sue was shrieking into her pillow and her bottom was a study in motion.

It took the parents another 30 minutes to tend to their daughter. They had to calm her, kiss away her tears, remake her bed, and tuck her in. Finally, reluctantly they left after lingering hugs and kisses. Freshly spanked and freshly forgiven, Sue would shed a few last tears into her pillow before drifting off into endorphin-assisted slumber.

______________

Downstairs, the couple unwound over a modest Napa Chardonnay. Fred was unusually quiet. Beth hadn’t missed Fred’s erection while she had been spanking Sue, and guessed his inner turmoil. She brought up the subject obliquely; “That was really hard for you wasn’t it Fred?”

“You have no idea.” he groused.

“Mixed emotions…right?”

Fred thought for a moment: “Yes, you could say that.”

“Sue’s really filling out…right? Sort of reminds you of how I looked a few years ago?”

“Well yes:” Fred said, “now that you mention it.”

“Fred” she purred, “You’re a great father, but your brain is hard-wired in a very male way. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. When something triggers that ancient mating impulse, just direct that extra sexual energy towards your wife, and we’ll both win.”

Just then, he realized that Beth’s hand was busy in his lap. He returned the favor.

Soon they were necking and kissing deeply. Shortly thereafter, they retired to their bedroom. In their private haven, Beth had one more surprise for Fred. Naked, she crawled across his lap and encouraged him to try a new experience, an erotic spanking.

The idea was an instant hit.

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Reptile Dysfunction (F/M)

2011-08-09T20:42:00.000-04:00

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“Reptile Dysfunction”

From Wikipedia: “In the winter of 2008, large numbers of feral iguanas in Florida dropped from the trees in which they lived, due to uncommonly cold nights causing them to go dormant, losing their grip on the tree branches. Though no specific numbers were provided by local wildlife officials, local media described the phenomenon as a "frozen iguana shower" in which dozens "littered" local bike paths. Upon the return of daytime warmth many (but not all) of the iguanas "woke up"…”

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When Lynn and Joe first spotted a large colorful lizard near their neighborhood, they thought it was “neat” and “cute”. A few years later then the reptiles (which they learned were Iguanas) multiplied and became pests, their attitude was far different. Blimp, a three-foot-long Iguana, took up residence in their yard and defended it against all comers, including against Lynn and Joe themselves. Living mostly in their sea grape tree, Blimp took great delight in eating plants from Lynn’s garden, and using the couple’s swimming pool as his private toilet. Although they tried various methods to discourage Blimp, the couple gradually ceded their back yard to the unwelcome and persistent reptile. Oh sure, they tried calling Animal Control, but they deal with domestic animals, not wild ones.

All this seemed to change in the cold winter of 2008 when Joe walked outside one cold morning to find Blimp lying dead under the tree. Joe went running into the house to tell Lynn the good news. In her practical feminine manner, Lynn asked “What are you planning to do with him?”

“Don’t know” Joe replied after a moment’s thought, “I’ll figure it out after I come home from work.”

Lynn bristled, “Oh no you won’t, I want that thing gone. You go bury him behind the garage while I call your office to tell them you’ll be a few minutes late.” Knowing better than to argue, Joe agreed. He went outside to find a shovel and get to work.

A remarkably short time later, Joe found Lynn in the laundry room. After a kiss and a hug, he told her that Blimp was “taken care of” and he was on his way to work.

“You got him buried already?” Lynn asked in surprise.

“Err…yes” Joe replied, “You know how easy it is to dig in this Florida sand.” Perhaps Lynn should have questioned him closer, but she was anxious to get back to her laundry. Relieved and only slightly late, Joe went to work.

Lynn had several loads of laundry to do, so it was several hours before she finally grabbed the keys to her car and went off shopping. By then, the sun was high and the day was pleasantly warm.

All was fine until two hours later when Lynn returned from her shopping trip with a bag of groceries in her hand. Her path from the drive to the back door of the house took her by the trash cans. She heard a thump.

She stopped, with a puzzled frown on her face.

Then she heard it again…and again.

Quickly, she traced the noise to a trash can. Remembering the time a neighborhood cat got trapped in their trash, she thoughtlessly worked the snug lid off the metal can. Instantly, a 6-foot-long alligator sprang from the can and leaped at Lynn. With visions of hundreds of sharp teeth in her head, poor Lynn screamed, dropped her groceries, and ran for her life.

When the “alligator” outdistanced her and headed for the tree, Lynn finally came to her senses. It wasn’t a 6-foot gator; it was a 3-foot iguana! Specifically, it was a newly, and very energetically resurrected Blimp.

Forgetting her groceries, Lynn stumbled into the house and poured herself a stiff drink. As her heart rate gradually returned to normal, Lynn recalled the unusually quick work that Joe had made of Blimp’s “internment”, and his assurance that the job had really been done. She realized that Joe had merely ditched Blimp in the trash and fibbed to her about digging a hole. In the warm can, Blimp had thawed and came back to life. As she finished off her drink, Lynn’s thoughts turned to the couple’s “Spencer” spanking agreement.

It wasn’t hard to find, it was framed on their bedroom wall. Top among the “List of Causes” was “Any deliberate lie”.

From memory, she recalled Dorothy Spencer’s instructions; “If the husband is to be whipped, he is directed to go to his room and get ready for the punishment. He must obey without a word of complaint and without uttering a word of argument. He should undress, then stretch out full length on the bed, face-downwards. He must wait in this position until his wife enters the room.”

She heard Joe’s car pull into the drive. Moments later, he walked in the door and inquired about the scattered groceries.

(Ten minutes later)

Uncomprehending, Blimp could clearly hear the sounds of a bare-bottom whipping from his comfortable perch in the tree.

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Cutting the Cards

2011-08-02T16:41:00.000-04:00

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Cutting the Cards

It’s the 1950’s in small-town west Texas. Most students in Westview High School come from modest homes on modest farms and ranches. Most have several brothers and sisters, and most deal with livestock daily. Resultantly, the basics of reproduction and the anatomical differences between genders are no mystery to them. Knowing this, perhaps it won’t seem so strange that teachers in Westview High were empowered, (required actually) to give the occasional bare-bottom paddling in front of their mixed-gender classrooms.

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As Mr. Kane droned on with his lesson, he observed his class through his deceptively sleepy looking eyes. He pretended not to notice as Lynn Taylor looked around with that special guilty-nervous look of a student who is about to break a rule.

As he continued his history lecture, he saw Lynn pick up a pencil. He doubted that she suddenly felt motivated to take notes. She wrote in tiny letters on one corner of a paper, and then tore the corner off. His heart beating faster, Mr. Kane carefully avoided looking directly at his prey.

He waited until she had the note neatly folded and secreted in her left hand before suddenly calling her name. He almost smiled when she started guiltily.

He asked pleasantly; “Lynn, would you come up to the board please”? The teacher watched carefully to see if she ditched the note. The girl put on an innocent expression and walked towards the board.

As Lynn tried to pass his desk, Mr. Kane’s hand shot out and grabbed her left arm. “May I see what’s in that hand please?” he asked.

Knowing she was busted, the girl sheepishly gave up the note.

“You have a simple choice” the teacher said, “I can fill out a referral slip and send you and this evidence to the Assistant Principal’s office for a sure thing, or you can take your chances with the cards.”

The “sure thing” Mr. Kane was talking about was a bare bottom paddling from Mr. Foster, the school’s stern AP. For Lynn, that would mean another “sure thing”; a note home and a strapping from her father.

“I’ll take the cards.” She replied.

The choice had actually been simple. The single advantage of being punished by the AP was that the process was comparatively private. “The cards” meant a probable paddling in front of the class, perhaps even a bare-bottom paddling. But unlike Mr. Foster, teachers were limited to six swats and seldom sent notes home. This way, it would all be over in five minutes.

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“The cards” had been the invention of a previous Principal. Somehow, the idea appealed to the fun-loving Texas culture. The teachers liked the concept because it protected them from being accused of discrimination. The school’s strict rules mostly decided who got punished, and “the cards” decided if an in-class paddling was done over clothing, over underwear, or on the bare. The teacher only had to decide the number of paddle strokes.

The school board had actually paid to have the special decks of cards printed and distributed to all teachers. Each deck had 33 cards. Ten cards each were printed with “Clothed”, “Underwear” or “Bare”. To add an element of fun and mercy, the final three cards said “Get Off Free”. Obviously, the errant student’s fate rested on which card he or she happened to draw.

---------------

Mr. Kane opened his top drawer and drew out his paddle and the deck of cards. He offered the deck to Lynn. “Do you want to check the deck before we start?” he asked solicitously.

“No sir” Lynn said nervously, “I trust you”.

He shuffled professionally, and then laid the deck on his desk. “In that case, cut the deck and show me your bottom card” he ordered.

With her eyes screwed tightly shut and her fingers crossed, Lynn reached down and pinched the top half of the deck. Eyes still shut; she showed the bottom card to Mr. Kane.

“Show it to the class” he ordered, barely able to keep the pleasure out of his voice.

She turned and flashed the card towards the class. There was an excited murmur.

“You can look at it now” he suggested.

With trepidation, Lynn opened her eyes and swiveled her wrist to bring the card into view. Instantly, her eyes filled with tears. The card said “Bare”.

“OK you know the rules” Mr. Kane said in a businesslike tone as he cleared papers from his desk. “Lower everything down below your knees, and then get into position.

Like most girls in that school, Lynn was wearing a skirt, so lowering everything wasn’t a problem. Girls that happened to be wearing dresses when they pulled the “Bare” or “Underwear” card either had to hike them over their shoulders or doff them completely.

Standing in front of Mr. Kane’s desk and with her back to the class, Lynn unhooked her skirt and dropped it to the floor. After an apprehensive glance at Mr. Kane, she lowered her panties to just below her knees. Without further instructions, she laid herself across the desk, her bare bottom jutting out towards the expectant class.

Although he carefully kept a severe look on his face, Mr. Kane was in his glory. At 16, Lynn was among the better developed girls in her class. Although he was doing his job exactly the way the school board wanted it done, there was no harm in a bit of secret enjoyment…right?

Although Mr. Kane was still young enough to sometimes let his hormones do his thinking for him, he wasn’t a mean person. He didn’t give her the full six strokes that he was allowed. The school’s standard paddle was heavy enough to seriously hurt when applied to a protected bottom. On a bare bottom, he considered four to be plenty.

He delivered them slowly, one bruiser to each of Lynn’s perfect nether cheeks, one across the divide, and the final blow down low. The girl squealed, sobbed and danced a bit in place, but otherwise held her position bent over the desk. Unable to hold her legs still, Lynn’s panties slipped down to her ankles, and then off to the floor. In the process, the poor girl showed her all to the class. Of course, the boys all sat up and paid rapt attention, but none would even bother mentioning the incident later. After all, it could be any of them taking their chances with that same deck of cards tomorrow, or even in the next class.

The prescribed punishment delivered, Mr. Kane quietly told Lynn to get dressed, and then he settled down in his chair to watch the show. Eyes wet and puffy, nose running, tears running down her face, the girl stood up, rubbed ruefully a few times and then looked around for her panties. With no graceful way to get dressed, she kept her back to the class as she bent over to retrieve her panties and then step into them. Mr. Kane enjoyed the show from the front, while the boys in the class got a bonus rear view. Finally, she restored her skirt to its rightful place, made her way back to her desk, and sat down with elaborate caution.

Doubtless this all seems strange and unbelievable to you, but this was just another normal day at Westview High. The point to the school’s rigid discipline was to make law- abiding citizens out of these potentially wild prairie children. In this, the school mostly succeeded.

Lynn’s paddling was successful in more ways than one. First, she got the message: She had much more respect for the school’s rules from that day on. It was her last time across any teacher’s desk.

More importantly, there was a boy in her class who took special notice of her charms. Wanting exclusive access to that wonderful bottom he had glimpsed, the future ranch owner lovingly pursued Lynn until their marriage three years later. Their life together was prosperous, exciting, loving, and fruitful.

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Take Off Your Panties (M/f)

2011-08-01T19:23:00.000-04:00

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“Take Off Your Panties”

“Take off your panties,” that’s what he said! I never expected to hear those words from my own father. To be fair though, I’m sure he never expected that phone call to fetch me from jail nor ever expected his own daughter to be charged with a crime. They don’t call it “shoplifting” these days. Somehow, “larceny” sounds even worse. I’m not a bad girl; really! I’m 16 and have never been in real trouble before, and this won’t ever happen again; honest! Let’s just call today’s little spur-of-the-moment idiocy “temporary insanity”. Of course, that won’t stop me from paying the price!

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Dad was quiet on the way home. I tried talking to him, but he just shushed me up. At home, he finally talked. “What were you thinking Eve?” he roared. I admitted that I hadn’t been thinking at all. I tried some feminine tears on him, but to no effect!

Finally his temper seemed to leave him. He led me to a familiar living room corner, one I hadn’t spent time in for almost two years. Just like the old days, he collected my top, pants and shoes, leaving me standing in the corner clad only in bra & panties. “I need to cool down and think about your punishment” he announced. “Whatever I decide will surely involve a red bottom. Until then, keep your face in this corner!”

I guess he went to his bedroom for a while, because I heard nothing for what seemed like an hour, but was probably half that. Then he came back into the living room to offer me not only a bathroom break, but the glorious luxury of a hard wooden stool. I was happy for the stool, have you ever stood in one place for a long time? It’s torture!

Then the stool and I spent another long, quiet time in that damn corner.

Finally, I heard my younger brother Randy arrive home. I don’t know if he saw me, but he went upstairs to his room. I think Daddy must have followed him upstairs, because I heard extra feet on the stairway. Later, I definitely heard some voices up there.

A few minutes later, I heard stirrings behind me. And then I heard furniture moving. I desperately wanted to look, but didn’t dare. It’s been a long time since I was in trouble, but I remember the rules!

Finally Dad spoke. His voice was sad. “You remember that I’ve threatened both you and Randy with the belt several times…right?”

“Yes Daddy” I replied. A horrible fear instantly settled inside my chest, making it hard to breathe. I dreaded Daddy’s next words!

“You may not know,” he continued, “that I’ve always been proud to never actually need to use my belt on either you or your brother to make you mind…”

I guessed his next words, but I was praying to be wrong!

“Until today.” He said heavily

Damn! He said it!

I don’t know if I was sadder because I had disappointed my father or because he planned to strap me for the first time ever, but I sobbed like a baby.

When I finally calmed a little, Daddy told be to stand up. I felt the stool go away.

Then he said it! He said those words I will never forget; “Take off your panties.”

Forgetting myself, I turned to him in astonishment. Then it got even worse! Looking past Daddy, I saw my little brother Randy sitting on the couch. He looked like he didn’t really want to be there, but there he was.

“Turn back into that corner,” Daddy ordered. “The belt works best on a bare bottom. You’re lucky I’m letting you keep your bra. Now take off those panties!

Squatting a bit, and then balancing on one leg then the other, I took the panties off.

“Drop them right there in the corner” he ordered. “Then turn around.”

Reluctantly, I turned. There was an armless kitchen chair sitting in the middle of the living room floor. From sad previous experience, I knew why it was there. Randy was looking at me. More precisely, he was looking somewhere below my bellybutton. He didn’t look happy, but that didn’t stop him from getting an eye full.

Randy and I have always seen each other get spanked, sometimes spanked bare. But in the past, “getting it bare” only meant that Daddy pulled our undies down in back.. I haven’t seen Randy’s “front” since he was a baby, and I think he’s seeing mine for the first time right now. This is mortifying!

I wanted to use both hands to hide my privates, but something held me back. I figured that having my panties off was part of my punishment, so trying to cover myself would be like putting my hand “back there” to stop a spanking. It would just irritate Daddy and make things worse.

Dad sat down in the chair and crooked a finger at me. Next thing I knew, he was hugging me. Did he just clear his throat, or was that a sob? Whatever, he clearly didn’t look delighted to be spanking me.

Finally, with his hands on my shoulders, he looked me straight in the eye. “First you’re going over my lap for a long spanking, and then you will bend over the arm of that easy chair.” (He pointed to a chair that had been moved away from the wall.) “And then,” (he choked a bit) “…I’ll take off my belt and bruise your bottom with it.”

Sadly, reluctantly, he guided me over his lap.

----------------------------

Hello. I’m Randy. Eve calls me “little brother” but actually I’m 14. Eve says her memory of her spanking & whipping are just sort of a “red hot blur”. Since I saw it happen, she asked me to describe that part of her punishment for you, and also to tell my thoughts at the time. The problem is; my thoughts are sort of embarrassing! Eve reminded me that sharing my thoughts isn’t near as embarrassing as what happened to her, and I can’t argue with that. So here’s the whole truth, even the embarrassing parts:

I was shocked when Daddy told Eve to take off her panties. I couldn’t believe that he would let me see her that way. Then she obeyed, she dropped her panties! Hey, a bottom is a bottom; but Eve’s looked softer and rounder than any bottom I’ve seen before.

OK, here’s the first embarrassing part: When Daddy told her to turn around; I saw my very first real-life vagina. It wasn’t exactly what I expected. It was just a sort of slit that you could barely see through her hair. We have sex education at school so I’ve seen the diagrams, but somehow I was expecting something more hole-like. I’m afraid I stared.

Dad hugged her and talked to her for a bit before he put her across his lap. I knew she was in for a good spanking, but she was also getting the belt! Neither of us has ever been strapped. This is a dangerous precedent!

Of course, I knew what sort of spanking Eve was in for, because I’ve been in that same position myself too many times, and I recognized that look in Daddy’s eyes.

I had a perfect view because Daddy had strategically placed the chair so that I couldn’t help but stare straight at Eve’s butt. Before he started, he told me: “This lesson is for you too, so watch and learn. Folks from this family aren’t thieves!”

And then the spanking started. Instantly there were handprints on Eve’s formerly pale bottom. As the spanking continued, the handprints merged into two big red ovals, and then the ovals started to move vigorously! Eve knew I was back there watching, so that’s probably why she kept her legs together for so long. But eventually her legs started to kick anyhow. And that’s when I started getting glimpses; glimpses of things I hadn’t expected to see until I got older.

Now the second embarrassing part: A guy isn’t supposed to get “turned on” by his own sister…right? Well I got hard; so hard that it hurt. That left me confused.

Of course, Eve was making the usual noises that a person makes when getting spanked. First, it was noises like “Oooo” and “Ouch” and “Ahhh”. Then she started begging and apologizing, and promising that “it would never happen again”. Then the tears started. Her sobs turned to outright bawling, which turned into a sort of shriek. By now, Daddy had spanked her beet red from the top of her butt, way down past her sit spot. Then he stopped to look for places he had missed.

Then he did what he always does for a really hard spanking. He spied her tender, unspanked inner thighs. When he ordered her to “open up”, she knew exactly what was coming. She begged, but Daddy didn’t relent. With a bit of encouragement from some extra spanks, Eve finally opened up her legs, but not far enough for Daddy. He made her open them as far as they would go.

Of course, I could se her butthole, but there’s nothing special about that. What really impressed me was the part just below. I was surprised to be able to see Eve’s “thing” from behind! From this angle, her hair didn’t hide much. Obviously this was far more than just a hole. There were slick folds of skin, guarding the entrance to a mysterious portal that must envelope a guy’s penis and send him into the stratosphere. I realized that I was looking at a whole “pleasure system” created by nature just for guys. Having seen a glimpse of heaven, I will never look at a girl the same way again.

Poor Eva shrieked and kicked as Daddy spanked her inner thighs. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t enjoying his duty. Finally, Daddy turned his attention back to her butt for a few last very hard spanks. By now, Eva was exhausted and limp.

The first part of her punishment over, Daddy kept her over his lap for a time. He rubbed her back and spoke gently to her as she regained her breath and wits. Finally, he helped her to her feet. Her tears started anew when she automatically reached back to rub her livid bottom. Obviously forgetting about me, she danced a bit in place, giving me yet another new view of her private bits.

Daddy spoke gravely and resolutely, “I know your bottom really hurts right now, but by tomorrow you wouldn’t feel anything unusual. This next part is to give you a reminder of today’s lesson whenever you sit down for the next few days. Bend over the arm of that chair now.”

Eve at first didn’t seem to comprehend, but then her face fell as she remembered what was next. New tears started, but she obediently walked to the chair and bent over it, presenting her bare bottom for Daddy’s belt.

“Randy, come here where you can see.” he commanded, “You need to learn this lesson so I only need do this once.” I didn’t really want to, but this was no time to argue. I moved behind Eve. I had a good view, but stayed a safe distance from that evil belt.

The belt made a sound like a rattlesnake when Daddy pulled it out from around his waist. I saw Eve jump in fear. I didn’t blame her!

This was probably the first time Daddy had ever spanked anyone with a belt, but he did a good job! He wrapped part of the belt around his hand. With one hand restraining her back, he slashed the belt down on Eve’s already-red bottom. She screamed and bucked, but managed to stay in place. I counted; he gave her sixteen spanks with that belt. I guess it was one for each year of her age? Three times he had to coax her to remove her hand from her bottom so he could continue. I was afraid that he would ask me to help hold her, but he soldered on. He covered her whole bottom with belt marks, concentrating mostly on the lower half. She won’t sit comfortably for days! Some belt marks went so low that she won’t be wearing anything short for awhile.

When it was over I saw real tears in Daddy’s eyes. He helped her up, then sat down in the chair and pulled Eve right into his lap. He held her for a long time and rocked her while they both had a good cry.

When they had both calmed down, he calmly explained to her that she was on restriction “until further notice”, and that she had some “letter writing to do”. As he escorted her to her bedroom, a strange thing happened. Eve started to pick up her panties from the corner, but Daddy stopped her. “No,” he said, “They stay there. They’ll make a great reminder.” Those panties, left in the corner of our usually neat living room for all to see, would turn out to be quite an embarrassment to my sister.

Through it all, I avoided teasing my sister or doing anything to make the incident worse for her. You see, I’m no angel. I get into trouble regularly. I’m afraid that someday my underpants will spend time in that same corner!

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Hello, I’m Stanley, Eve’s father. I’m really proud of Randy’s writing! He gave such a good account of Eve’s spanking, there isn’t much for me to add except that I really hated to do that to her. Unfortunately, it was my clear parental duty. Unpleasant as it was (especially for Eve) I think both Eve and Randy learned a useful and lifelong lesson. As their only parent (their mother died a few years ago) I felt I had to act.

After the spanking, and after I had dried most of Eve’s tears and hugged her and told her I loved her, we had a serious little talk about her situation. Naturally, she was still in legal trouble, but I was starting to form a plan to fix that.

For now, I put her on restriction. She took that news rather well, but I still reminded her of the rules. Restriction in our house is no picnic. The rules are strict. We don’t have a mommy around the house to help enforce the rules, so I give no second chances. You violate restriction, you get spanked!

Next I told her to write two letters of apology, one to the store manager and one to the judge. Both letters were to describe her punishment in graphic detail.

Then I led her to her bedroom. She was still a bit shaky. She started to grab her panties from the corner, but I stopped her. That was to be another part of her punishment. For now, they would stay right there to serve as a silent reminder.

In the bedroom she laid face-down on the bed. The father of a teen cherishes these rare moments when she “needs her daddy”. We talked for a bit, and then I kissed her and unhooked her little bra. Then I covered my naked and well-spanked little girl with a sheet and tucked her in for the night. I sat on edge of her bed and rubbed her back until she was fast asleep, and then crept out of her room.

My next job was to extract Eve’s case from the legal system.

We visited the store manager the next day. It was a difficult meeting. He told us straight out that he had no intention of dropping the charges. Eve tearfully apologized to him, but he bristled, quite unmoved. Then I asked him to read the letter. He did, and then looked up, seeming to realize why Eve was squirming in her seat. “I’ll show you clear evidence that she has been sufficiently punished if that’s necessary” I offered. Both he and Eve blushed at the thought.

“No” he said reluctantly. “I’m convinced. Since the police say she has a clear record, I suppose we can drop the charges this once.”

We sent the judge a similar letter. I managed to get him on the phone a few days later. Yes, the store manager was dropping the charges, but the judge still wanted to see Eve in court. I agreed. He put us on the docket for the next week. I had to take time off work, but it was a good experience for Eve. The Judge gave her a good “talking to”, and then dropped all charges. She will have no record.

At home things were tense, as they always are when someone is on restriction. It had been two years since Eve’s last restriction. She said she remembered the rules, but it was only two days before she screwed up. I walked into the house after work, and found her on the telephone! I really think it was sort of a “rookie mistake”. Apparently the phone rang, and she picked it up out of habit. It happened to be a friend, so she forgot herself and talked. When she saw the look on my face, she realized what she was doing. In horror, she said “Bye” and hung up the phone. She tried to explain, but like I told you, I accept no explanations.

“Any reason why we shouldn’t deal with this right now?” I asked.

“My bottom’s still really sore,” she replied, somewhat lamely.

“I’m honestly sorry, but that’s you’re fault.” I replied.

She was wearing the required “restriction uniform” of just pajamas, so that simplified matters somewhat. “Let’s start by taking off your PJ bottoms.” I suggested.

“I’m, I’m not wearing anything under them.” she warned.

“Yes, I assumed that.” I assured her. “Don’t worry; we’ve seen it all before.”

Reluctantly, she lowered her pants and stepped out of them. I gave her permission to use the bathroom. Next she was to get Randy, and then place a spanking chair in the living room. I must admit, my little girl looked fetching running around with her bare bottom showing.

With the three of us in the living room, I made her stand in front of Randy and explain to him why she was about to be spanked. Then she assumed the time-honored position across my lap, with her bottom facing her brother.

The spanking was short, but it was hard and fast. She squealed cried, kicked and scissored her legs right from the beginning. Her already-marked bottom quickly took on a brilliant red hue. My intent was to reignite every nerve on her bottom, and doubtless I succeeded. She was a sorry girl.

Naturally, that kinetic display of his sister’s most private anatomy held Randy’s attention, but not the rapt, ardent attention of Eve’s last spanking. I realized that I should have satisfied my children’s curiosity about their respective bodies long ago. Now I see that during their spankings is a natural time to accomplish that. So right then, I resolved that the next time Randy earned himself a serious spanking, his underpants will be in the corner, and Eve will get the impromptu anatomy lesson.

But that will be another story.

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The Governor’s Daughter

2011-04-15T21:02:00.000-04:00

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The Governor’s Daughter

Forward: There is much “dirty laundry” in history that we would rather forget. For example; in the USA it was once a common “coming-of-age ritual” for young men of rich white families to use their slaves or black servants for sex. Thomas Jefferson, the third President of the United States, is said to have fathered up to six children by one of his slaves. In more recent USA history, a certain young law student fathered an illegitimate mixed-race daughter by a teenaged black family servant. That man became a successful lawyer, was elected Governor, was known for his segregationist politics, and later became a senior US Senator. Although he supported his daughter and quietly met with her, he never officially acknowledged her. She never publicly named her father until after his death. As with President Jefferson, this politician’s “dirty laundry” was an open secret.

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The Governor called it a “working lunch”. They were seated in a tiny dining room near his official office. The uniformed black waiters served them, and then were politely dismissed. As usual, the table was set with real silver and expensive china. A brown girl, who had been spirited thru a rear door of the governor’s mansion, sat across the table from the white patrician gentleman. The slim, frankly beautiful, girl was wearing her best dress for the occasion, but looked distinctly uncomfortable and anxious. The Governor’s meals were always good, but he noticed wryly that his mostly-black kitchen staff always outdid themselves when the brown girl joined him for lunch. The girl always found it difficult to relax at these sessions, but today she squirmed with real unease and neglected her meal of prime rib and succulent fresh vegetables. A transcript of her grades from the state university lay on the table.
“What would your mother have done about this?” the governor asked gently. At the mention of her mother, the girl’s eyes filled with tears. Her mother had been dead for nearly four months now and Diane was having real trouble adjusting to a life alone and without the haven of a real home. When her mother was first diagnosed, the best doctors in the state suddenly became available and all of her bills had been mysteriously paid. Diane suspected that it had come from the Governor’s private finances. But it was all for naught. Despite everything, her mother declined and died. The Governor, known for his segregationist politics, set tongues wagging by attending the funeral of the negro lady who was rumored to be the mother of his mixed-race unacknowledged love child, Diane.
The question hung between them. He handed her a handkerchief for her tears but he firmly persisted, “Well? What would she do?”
She finally found her voice. The girl wanted to scream, “You know damn well what Mamma would do”, but she actually said; “She would spank me sir”.
“Go on,” urged the Governor “say it all.”
She choked a bit and continued softly…”She’d have whipped be good, probably twice, once for each failed class, with a week between them for my bottom to heal.”
The man bore in, none too gently, “And how would she have whipped you?”
“On…on the bare, with the belt…hard and long.” The girl finally admitted.
“Yes” the old man agreed, “That’s my guess too. What about after that? Would she send you go back to school to try again? …Or would she tell you to get a job to support yourself?”
Diane sobbed for a moment and finally said, “I really don’t know what she would have done. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“It’s never happened before because you’re a bright girl who suddenly just quit trying” retorted the Governor. “If you were working your butt off and still having trouble, I’d be on your side and get you whatever help you needed.”
“Yes, I know” sobbed Diane, “I’m so sorry!”
The Governor handed her a fresh hanky. “I’m about to offer you two choices, one easy one and one hard one.”
“Here it comes,” Diane thought wryly, “the end of life as I know it.”
“First,” the Governor continued “I could get you a job that’s appropriate for someone who failed out of her first year of college, and see that you are set up in an apartment affordable on the modest pay that you will earn. We can still visit occasionally. …Or, we can do it the hard way,” he said with a hardening expression, “The way I think your mother would want it.”
He stopped and looked at her, waiting for her to ask.
“Wha…what’s that?” Diane finally asked, hopeful, but also afraid of the answer.
“We could punish you like your mother would have punished you,” the Governor finally answered, “and then give you one last chance to succeed in college.”
Diane looked down at the tablecloth and answered simply in a tiny voice “OK”. As she did, her buttocks clenched involuntarily and she felt a familiar feeling deep in her gut.
It was the Governor’s turn to dab at an eye. “You made the right choice, I’m proud of you,” he said. He unsuccessfully tried to disguise a sob as a cough and then finally spoke. “You know that I can’t do it myself, especially not here in the Governor’s mansion… spank you that is...” She nodded miserably, she had already been wondering about that part.   He got right down to business; “Do you know where the state motor pool is?”
“I…I think so” she said in a questioning voice.
“Assembly Avenue at Gervais Street” he said, “It looks like a big barn”.
“I can find it,” she promised.
He handed her a business card. “Ask for Mr. Campbell. He’s a friend and he will be expecting you. Do precisely as he says. I’m sure that you will take your punishment bravely. You are to make up those two failed classes in the summer semester. Mr. Campbell will deliver the punishment that you just agreed to, and then he will monitor your schoolwork on a weekly basis and report back to me.”
“Yes sir” Diane said, “Thank you sir, you won’t be sorry you gave me this chance”. She took the card and left; left as usual with neither a hug nor a kiss from the old gentleman. Wiping a final tear from his eye, the Governor stood and walked into his office for his next appointment. Neither of them had touched their lunch.
The governor was an imperious old southern gentleman. His youthful “indiscretion” that had produced Diane was an open secret, but the governor was sufficiently powerful to get away with it. Naturally, he couldn’t officially acknowledge the girl because that would be a huge political embarrassment for this southern segregationist governor and an insult to his wife, so everybody maintained a polite silence. But like the gentleman that he was, he quietly supported the girl and stayed in touch in a vague sort of way. Afraid that the Governor would be obliged to withdraw support if he were ever forced to officially deny her, Diane could never admit who her father was, although everybody suspected.

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Diane made her way out the back door of the governmental mansion and walked the several blocks down Columbia’s Richmond Street to the motor pool and to her presumed imminent punishment. The walk gave her time to reflect on her bleak situation: Simply put, Diane felt alone in the world. For her entire life, her mother had been her anchor and her guiding light; but now she was gone. Her father, the Governor, was not really a father to her at all. Oh, he seemed to care a bit and was honest enough to support her, but he had never so much as hugged her. At school she had no real friends. The state college where Diane attended had been quietly (though tokenly) integrated a few years ago, so the Governor had seen that Diane was among the few non-whites admitted. But Diane was a person who was accepted my neither culture. The white students considered her black and were, at best, distantly polite;. The few black students considered her white and excluded her from their clique.
Males from both cultures found her sexually exotic, but hardly marriage material. So none remained interested once discovering she was no easy conquest. Diane could handle these pressures when she had her mother’s support and a home to retreat to, but now she felt so terribly alone that she had been neglecting her schoolwork.
Perhaps the Governor was being too hard on her. Perhaps she just needed a bit more time to learn how to cope. Or perhaps it was far kinder to give her the good “kick in the butt” she seemed to occasionally need to get herself back on the proper track. Al least he had been thoughtful enough to leave the final decision up to Diane.
With the Governor’s directions and the address on the card, Diane found the motor pool compound. Finding a black mechanic bent into the engine compartment of a huge car, she asked the whereabouts of Mr. Campbell. “He be in the office honey,” he said, turning back immediately to his work.
She finally found a door marked “Administrative Office”. Inside, she asked a clerk if this was the place to find Mr. Campbell. “What’s your business with Mr. Campbell?” the clerk asked.
“My fath… um…the Governor sent me to see him” Diane responded. The clerk picked up the phone and spoke briefly to someone at the other end. “Sit down over there and Mr. Campbell will see you shortly” the clerk said in a more kindly tone.
Mr. Andrew Campbell had been brought up here in the capital city. Even as a youth, he was considered a promising young man (for a poor black that is). After high school, his parents sent him to the state’s only black college, (which happened to be in the capital city) but they could only afford the first year. After that, it was up to young Andy to work his own way through college. Fortunately, he found a part-time job washing cars at the state motor pool that paid enough for a few classes. Later, the job became full-time, so he had much less time for school. Over the years, as his education slowly progressed, Andy held almost every job in the motor pool, driver, parts man, senior driver, clerk, and finally Assistant Superintendent. It took him 8 years to finish college, but he excelled there. In those 8 years in the state’s only black college, Andy came to know all of the state’s black “movers and shakers”. In his position at work, Andy had access to the most important whites in the state, including the Governor himself.
Although it was never intended, Andrew gradually became an important, though covert, cog in the wheel of state politics. He carried messages from black leaders to the Governor, and conveyed “trial balloons” and other messages from the Governor back to the black leaders. It was closest thing to enlightened racial politics that was possible for the times. In exchange for the black vote, the Governor delivered advances to the black community while pretending to give them nothing. In this way, Andrew’s state avoided much of the civil unrest that plagued other southern states in those turbulent times. In the process, Andrew Campbell and the Governor became fast friends, so Andrew was promoted to Superintendent of the state motor pool after his white boss finally retired. As a Superintendent, Andrew was among his state’s highest-ranking black employees. Though virtually unknown, Andrew was de facto among the most important blacks in his state.

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It seemed an eternity, but was probably only minutes later when the phone on the clerk’s desk rang. “Mr. Campbell will see you now” the clerk announced, “Go right through that door Honey”. As if in a fog, Diane followed directions to find herself in a large private office. Behind a large desk sat a very large, kindly looking black man wearing a suit and tie. He said nothing, simply looking at her as if his eyes could peer deep into her soul. Finally, he stood, took her hand, and introduced himself. The formalities over, he sat back down and regarded her again. Finally he spoke: “Tell me why you’re here”.
Diane’s eyes filled with tears. “To…to…to be punished sir.” She finally managed.
“Yes, the Governor spoke to me about you last night, but I want to hear it all directly from you. Exactly how am I to punish you?
“The Governor said I was to be spanked…t…t…twice.” She said.
“There are all kinds of spankings. Tell me more” Mr. Campbell probed.
Tears ran freely down Diane’s cheeks, “With a belt sir…On the b…bare.”
“You mean just two swats?” Mr. Campbell persisted.
It was hard to say the words, but Diane dared not lie to someone who likely knew everything, “No sir, I’m supposed to get two hard spankings” she sobbed “As many swats as it takes.”
“Please sit down,” the man finally said, indicating a plain chair in front of his desk.
“Now tell me why” he demanded.
“Why sir?” she asked, momentarily puzzled. “Yes Diane, why do you deserve to be punished? Why should I spank your bare bottom?”
Her eyes burned as they again brimmed with tears. “Because I stopped trying in school”, she sobbed, “Because I wasted the Governor’s money by not even attending classes that he was paying for … because I seem to have lost my way”. Those last words that she blurted out surprised even her. She didn’t know there they came from, but truer words were never spoken. Diane had lost her way. Worse, she had no mother to show her the way, to show her the way by reddening her bottom if necessary!
With a shock, Diane realized that she found the prospect of being “taken in hand” surprisingly inviting. She longed to have limits, to have the comfort of a parental figure to keep her on a safe path.
“OK,” said Mr. Campbell, “let’s get started.” “You are living in the college dorm?”
She nodded.
“Where do you live between semesters?”
“I have nowhere else to go.” The girl explained. She continued on with a slight lack of candor; “The dorm’s really OK, it’s nice and quiet there with school out of session.”
Actually, she would have given anything to have a home to go to again.
“One of my drivers will take you to your dorm. Pack a few things. You’re staying at least one night at my house.”
She looked at him appraisingly.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “Your virtue will be safe. I’m happily married. We have two daughters; one of them is your age and attends your college. Perhaps you know Tricia Campbell?”
Diane nodded in recognition; she was vaguely familiar with Tricia at school.
“You’ll receive your first spanking tonight. Normally spankings in our home are private, but since you’re not my daughter, either my wife or Tricia will be in the room. Do you understand?”
Diane nodded, but Mr. Campbell could see that everything was not OK. He guessed what it was; “Don’t worry about Tricia blabbing about you at school. If she values her bottom, your privacy will be safe.” Diane breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, she felt at ease with this man, even though he was soon to spank her bare bottom until she howled and sobbed away what little would be left of her dignity.
Andrew had one more thing to explain: “You won’t be getting the belt. I don’t suppose the Governor told you, but he made a special trip to my house last night to ask me and my wife Elizabeth to help him deal with you. He’s very concerned about you. He asked us to punish you exactly how your mother would have done it. We agreed to help, but I explained that I’m more comfortable using our family’s hairbrush. He ultimately approved.”
Seeing the girl draw a mistaken sigh of relief, he quickly corrected her; “No, you don’t understand. I spank long and hard, your bottom will be sore for several days. Have you ever been spanked by a man?”
She shook her head “no”.
“I never met your mother, but I’ll bet I’m stronger than she was. You’ll be a well-spanked girl tonight.”
Diane shuddered.
He continued, “Your second spanking will be in one week, but I might delay it further if your bottom hasn’t sufficiently healed from tonight’s punishment.”
Suddenly, Diane felt butterflies in her stomach; she finally realized what she was in for!

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Soon Diane was riding to the college to collect her things, driven in a government limousine by a kindly and slightly curious driver. All too soon, Diane was again waiting in Mr. Campbell’s outer office, her bag of “things” at her feet. At the stroke of five, Mr. Campbell came striding out of his office, said his goodbyes to his staff, took Diane’s bag, and led her to his car, a meticulously maintained 1950 Cadillac.
Fortunately, it was a short trip. Diane was desperately trying to figure out what small talk to make with a stranger who is about to give you a bare-assed spanking, but Mr. Campbell seemed to be deep in thought. Diane noted that they were driving to those nebulous few blocks of well-maintained homes located in the area of the capitol city where the colored neighborhoods blend into the white neighborhoods. She knew that this is the area where the black doctors, lawyers, businessmen, and professors live. Finally they turned towards a stately house and drove directly into the garage. As they walked through a doorway leading from the garage into a large kitchen, wonderful smells assaulted her senses and made her remember that she had skipped lunch. Mrs. Campbell put the lid back on a pot, introduced herself to Diane and welcomed her with a hug. Shortly thereafter, Tricia and Jane arrived home and were introduced by their father. Sure enough, Tricia and Diane already were slightly acquainted from school.
Diane noticed immediately that Tricia seemed sort of quiet. She at first took it to be unfriendliness, a treatment the half-black Diane was used to receiving from both black and white peers, but Diane was sensitive enough to eventually realize that something was bothering Tricia, something that had nothing to do with her.
Mrs. Campbell called for everybody to wash for supper and asked for help to bring the food to the table. Happy for something to break the tension, Diane jumped in to help.
At supper, Diane enjoyed the cozy feeling of being surrounded by family, albeit someone else’s family, but still felt tension. Noticing that Tricia was quiet, but Jane was chattering away unconcerned, Diane deduced that Tricia must be in some sort of trouble.
Finally, Mr. Campbell took advantage of an awkward pause in the conversation to formally welcome Dian to “the humble Campbell home” and announced to his daughters that Diane would be spending the night and possibly the entire weekend. “Tricia” he asked ‘would you please make Diane comfortable in the spare bed in your bedroom?” Tricia looked at her father with an almost a hopeful question in her eyes; “Dad?” She said “Does that mean I don’t have to …er… go to bed early tonight?” (“Going to bed early” was Campbell family code for “bedtime spanking”)
“No” said Mr. Campbell “you’re ‘going to bed early’ tonight, and Diane is going to be up there with you when it happens.” He secretly treasured the incredulous look on his daughter’s face, then continued, “But don’t worry, Diane is ’going to bed early’ also.”
Tricia stammered, “You mean…?”
Mr. Campbell cut off his daughter’s question, “You two help mother with the dishes and then go up to your room, I am sure that Diane will fill you in on the details.”
All too soon, the girls were almost done helping their mother with the dishes. Mrs. Campbell told the girls to go upstairs to “get ready for father”. “Please show Diane how we do that Tricia, there’s a spare robe in your closet”. Tricia pouted, “Yes mommy”.
Up in the room, the girls finally got to compare notes. “Yes” Diane admitted, she really was supposed to get a spanking from Mr. Campbell. It seems that they were both in trouble over their final grades. Tricia had received an “Incomplete” in American History because she hadn’t yet completed her research paper. The problem was Tricia’s tendency to procrastinate, coupled with a lack of focus and some last-minute writer’s block. She had tried to “pull an all-nighter” to get the paper written at the last minute, but when the night was finished, the paper wasn’t. Now she was about to get a spanking for her lack of effort and procrastination. “I’m getting a hand spanking tonight and believe me, that’s bad enough. Also, the Professor will mark down my paper at least one full grade for being late. If I don’t have a satisfactory paper turned in by next Friday, it will be the hairbrush for me.” Tricia sobbed.
“That’s what I am going to get” Diane blurted out. Tricia looked at Diane incredulously, “You’re joking! You’re going to get the hairbrush from Dad? Why?”
“Because I sort of stopped trying in school and, skipped a bunch of classes and then failed two subjects.” Diane admitted.
Tricia didn’t want to pry too much, but finally her curiosity got the best of her: “Wanna tell my why my father is punishing you instead of your own parents?” She was immediately sorry she had asked when Diane’s eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“I…I…don’t really have a family any more,” Diane said “I have sort of a…mentor…and he asked Mr. Campbell to punish me because he can’t do it himself.” Tricia’s eyes grew wide in recognition, “Oh I know who you are now! Is it really true who your father is?”
As she had done all her life, Diane deftly deflected the question and then quickly changed the subject: “The Governor is a friend of my family. Say; didn’t your mother say something about ‘getting ready’ or something?”
Tricia deflated a bit as the subject returned to their imminent punishment. “OK, we should talk about that. First, daddy won’t be up here until about 8:30. This is supposed to be our “thinking” time. He says that the wait makes us remember our punishment better. All we really MUST do before he arrives is move that desk chair to the middle of the room. I guess you know what he’ll use THAT for.”
“Yes” said Diane, “That’s not hard to figure.”
“He always makes a big thing about making sure that we know why we are being punished; so there’s always a little ‘talk”.
“Yep”, interjected Diane, “just like my mom so far.”
“And then, whichever one of us goes first (I hope it’s me) has to get bare, and we have a special rule about that part”
“What do you mean” asked Diane with a growing apprehension.
“Actually, it’s my mother’s rule, but father enforces it. Specifically; nothing can get in the way of Dad’s “work area”. She says that it’s sort of a sign of respect to Dad. We must be totally ready for our punishment and that means being truly bare for it. It shows that we’re sorry and are ready for our punishment.”
“Are you saying that we have to get naked?” Diane asked wide-eyed.
“Not exactly naked” Tricia explained, “His job is to spank us, and nothing should get in the way. Specifically, the rule is that no clothing below your bellybutton or above your socks. So no panties. Basically, that means you’re allowed to wear a very short top and socks if you want. Usually, I just wear a bra.”
“Your mother said something about a robe” Diane probed. “Oh that’s because it’s less embarrassing to get undressed ahead of time. You can do a strip-tease in front of dad if you want, but I’d rather just slip off my robe and lay over his lap, wouldn’t you?” Tricia continued helpfully, “Usually he’s even polite enough to look away while you do that, so he doesn’t see your front.”
Diane only considered that for a second, “You’ve convinced me, where’s that extra robe?
As Tricia searched her packed closet for the spare robe, a question occurred to Diane, “What about after the spanking, when you get up off of his lap? Doesn’t he see everything then?”
Tricia’s voice quivered a bit as she answered, “Probably; but by then you won’t care. My father spanks HARD and LONG! We’re both really in for it. To be honest, I’m not brave about these things.” Both girls sat in glum silence for a moment before Tricia finally continued. “…And speaking of all that, let’s get our showers now; we won’t feel like it later. Do you want to go first or do you need time to get organized?”
“Would you unzip my dress and get your shower while I undress? “ Diane asked. “I’m wearing this fancy stuff because I had to meet with my mentor about my grades.”
Downstairs, Mr. & Mrs. Campbell were sitting quietly in the living room. Mrs. Campbell, having noticed that her husband hadn’t turned the page of his newspaper for several minutes finally probed; “Looks like you’ve got a job ahead of you tonight Andy.” He sighed, “Liz, I’m not looking forward to this. If anything, Tricia is getting off easy, but I don’t feel good about punishing Diane.”
“I think I know what you’re thinking” Elizabeth said, “Diane is having trouble adjusting because her mother died so spanking her for that just doesn’t feel right to you.” “Yes”, Mr. Campbell said, “that’s part of it.”
Elizabeth thought for a moment, and finally offered, “Ideally Diane would have had a family to see her problem earlier and to keep this from happening, but it just wasn’t there for her. Now the kindest thing is to get her back on track, even if it hurts her bottom.”
“When you put it that way, I guess it’s hard to argue, but there’s another…more personal… issue” Mr. Campbell said, looking around the room to ensure privacy. “You know that you’re the only female I would ever touch ‘that way’, and that Diane is just as safe around me as my daughters are, but…um… every part of my body doesn’t know that. I’m pretty much immune to our daughters charms, but when Diane bares herself for her punishment I’m afraid of, err, shall we say…an inappropriate physical reaction.
Elizabeth grinned lovingly at her husband, stood, and took his hand. “I know just how to deal with that problem.” she purred, leading him into the master bedroom.
We needn’t dwell on the action in the master bedroom after the door closed behind the couple, but suffice to say that their daughters would have been shocked had they known. For some strange reason, teens always prefer imagining their parents celibate.
It was nearly an hour later when Andy and Elizabeth finally re-emerged from their bedroom. Both were freshly showered. Elizabeth was wearing a bathrobe, and Andy had exchanged his suit for more comfortable clothes. For the first time that evening, Mr. Campbell seemed truly relaxed. In fact, they were both grinning like Cheshire cats. The couple sat in the kitchen over coffee as they gradually shifted back into “parent mode” and discussed Tricia and Diane’s problems plus Andy’s looming task.
Upstairs, the girls had finished their showers, donned their robes with virtually nothing underneath, and placed the dreaded spanking chair in the middle of the room. At first an awkward silence hung between the two girls. After all, even though both were waiting to be punished, they were nearly strangers. Diane broke the ice by asking Tricia about her “problem” school assignment. Soon they were deep into discussion about how the paper could be improved, perhaps even how it could earn a top grade. Since Diane had no plans for the following week, she volunteered to help with the research, proofread, and even type. (Personal computers were decades in the future) Finally, talk turned to boys, food, clothes, and other “girly” things. Over the next hour, the girls became fast friends. It was well after 8 when the conversation trailed off as the girls individually realized that their punishments were near. Diane was dry-eyed but quiet, but Tricia started sobbing quietly. Diane put a calming arm around Tricia.
“I wish my bottom was hurting so much right now that I couldn’t sit” said Tricia.
“Why” asked Diane, momentarily puzzled. “Because then my spanking would be over, of course,” said Tricia.
“Will your hand spanking really be that bad?” asked Diane.
“They always are” said Tricia, “My dad doesn’t spank often, but he really spanks hard.”
Diane only had a few minutes to reflect on how much worse her own bottom was going to feel after a thorough treatment from the Campbell family hairbrush.
It was a little after eight thirty PM, when the girls heard steps outside their room. It was time for the girl’s bottoms to meet their fate. Diane was almost relieved that the waiting was over.   Tricia whimpered as the doorknob turned. Mr. Campbell entered without knocking. In his large hand was an even larger ivory hairbrush. At the sight of that brush, Diane’s guts tightened into a ball, she felt her knees get weak and she could hear blood rushing inside her head. The whole world seemed to revolve around that hairbrush! Years later, Diane would be able to picture that old yellowed hairbrush in minute detail. The thing must have warmed many generations of bottoms. It had a few hairline cracks that had turned black over the decades. They apparently didn’t impair its main function. She imagined that its surface sheen came from countless impacts with countless bottoms. She even noticed that there wasn’t a single hair entangled in the old bristles. Apparently nobody used it to actually brush hair. Diane’s focus finally widened to include Mr. Campbell, now seated in his chair.
Mr. Campbell’s “talk” was surprisingly short. He noted the coincidence that these two girls who barely knew each other this morning were now getting spanked together for much the same offense. He carefully explained that neither of the girls was being spanked simply for bad grades, he said that he would never do that. Rather, they were both being punished for lack of effort. He also pointed out that Tricia had been less than honest with her parents by not telling them that she was behind in her work. “Next time, that sort of untruthful behavior will be punished as if you had told us a direct lie” he warned. He then turned his attention to Diane, and told her that skipping classes and assignments was totally inexcusable, even though he realized that she was going through a tough time in her life. Then after a pause, he told her that he wished that he had had a chance to meet her a long time ago because he was really impressed with her so far. “I hope you don’t hate me just because it’s my job to punish you and monitor your schoolwork” he said.
At this, Diane finally dissolved into tears, “I already like you Mr. Campbell and I can see that both your daughters love you very much. Why would I hate you for acting like a father?” she managed to blubber out.
“Thank you,” Andy replied, with a bit of surprise in his voice “that really makes me feel better about this whole thing. There was a period of silence when all three seemed lost in their individual thoughts. All that could be heard was the two girls sniffling. Finally Mr. Campbell started rolling up his right shirtsleeve and broke the silence with an ominous question, “Are there any questions before we begin?” There were none, but Tricia, who had been merely leaking tears, started openly sobbing.
Mr. Campbell gently asked Diane an unexpected question that presented her with a moral dilemma: “Diane, you’re the guest here; do you wish to be first or second?”   Although Diane would really have rather gone first to end the terrible anticipation of her looming punishment, Tricia had mentioned more than once that she would like to “get it over with” first. However, Tricia’s face was now a frightened mask, certainly not the face of somebody who was ready for a spanking. Finally, Diane reasoned that as scared as Tricia was now, she would be even more so if she had to wait longer. Diane took a deep breath and asked if she could please go second after Tricia.
Tricia’s sobbing turned to blubbering when she heard Diane’s decision. Her father motioned for his daughter to stand at his right thigh. At first, Tricia backed away from her father, her bottom lip quivering in fright. For a terrible moment, Diane thought that Tricia was going to refuse, but she finally obeyed her father. “You know what to do Tricia,” he said firmly, and then in a deliberate gesture, he turned his head to the left, giving her a moment of relative privacy. Still sobbing openly, Tricia used the privacy to unbutton her robe, shrug it off, and reluctantly climb into position across her father’s lap. She automatically placed her right hand just above her clenching bottom so her father could immobilize it. As soon as Tricia was in position, nearly naked and helpless across her father’s lap, her sobs turned into room-filling cries as if she were already being spanked. Diane thought at first that Tricia’s “spankless crying” was surprisingly babyish, but then she witnessed Mr. Campbell’s first spanks bouncing off of Tricia’s heaving bottom, and realized that Tricia had simply known exactly what to expect.
Mr. Campbell took a glance at his watch, and then started to work. Usually, when a parent spanks a child, the first spanks are mild, and then are gradually delivered harder and harder and faster and faster so that the last few spanks are the hardest and the fastest of all. Diane was surprised to notice that Mr. Campbell spanked Tricia “backwards”. That is; the hardest, fastest spanks were the very first spanks. These first spanks were so hard that their sound actually hurt Diane’s ears in the closed confines of the bedroom. Mr. Campbell raised his hand well over his head and brought it down with awesome force, flattening the targeted buttock and actually pushing Tricia’s hips repeatedly down into his lap. While the spanks themselves could surely be heard throughout the house, Tricia’s screech must have been audible to the neighbors!
As Mr. Campbell spanked, he gave his daughter his full attention and had, momentarily, forgotten that Diane was even in the room. At it turned out, Diane was standing, awkward and slack-jawed, barely three feet directly behind Tricia’s heaving, bouncing, jiggling bottom. Near the end of those first, hardest, spanks, Tricia’s legs scissored wide apart. Diane’s face turned bright red; Tricia was displaying everything she had! Further, there was no way that Mr. Campbell could avoid seeing it. Diane wondered if she would soon be displaying herself the same way. But another thought soon crowded that one aside. Tricia’s spread-apart legs had managed to frame the large white ivory hairbrush that was lying on the floor next to Mr. Campbell’s chair, which reminded Diane exactly why it was there and whose bottom was soon to feel it. Diane’s mouth turned dry and her guts twisted anew as she realized the magnitude of the spanking she would be momentarily be receiving over that same lap. Tricia was “only” getting a hand spanking; Diane was due for that hairbrush!
After the first ten brutal spanks, Tricia’s spanking settled down to one that most would judge as merely “very hard”. During those first ten “bruisers”, Tricia had voiced a loud howl, which quickly rose up the scale to become a howl of agony and then a full-fledged screech, but now she uttered an uneven series of cries, grunts and howls as her father settled into the main part of her spanking. Mr. Campbell spanked with a studied randomness that kept Tricia totally off balance. His spanks were random in pacing, with sometimes up to three right together, but sometimes with significant pauses between individual spanks. The target area was also random; Tricia never had any idea where on her bottom the next spank would land. Further, the spanks were even random in power, sometimes very severe, and sometimes a mere “pop”. There was none of the usual begging, and pleading that one usually hears from a child receiving a sound spanking, there were also none of those usual frenzied promises of perpetually perfect future behavior that spanked children offer. There was none of that because those first, almost brutal, spanks had immediately pushed Tricia into incoherence, then Mr. Campbell expertly kept up the pressure on his already very sorry daughter. As the spanking continued, the bare-assed girl kicked, squealed, twisted and bucked, but Mr. Campbell seemed to take no notice, simply continuing, like some sort of automaton. Once or twice, during the longer pauses, Diane noticed Mr. Campbell twist his wrist slightly to check his watch. She guessed that he had some minimum duration in mind for the spanking to ensure that Tricia got a full measure of punishment. Diane wondered glumly how long her own punishment was supposed to last.
Finally Tricia started to respond less to the spanks raining down on her buttocks. Her bawling continued, but her movements were distinctly less. Mr. Campbell must have noticed and apparently took this as a signal that Tricia had been punished enough. He took a quick glance at his watch, nodded to himself, and ended the spanking with ten quick spanks that were easily harder than any delivered recently. He kept his bawling daughter over his lap for a further two minutes, keeping her in suspense by doing nothing to indicate that her spanking was over. Finally he released her hand, bent over his daughter, and whispered a few gentle words in her ear. It was finally over for Tricia. Diane knew that it must soon be her turn.
But first, she really needed to go to the bathroom!
Mr. Campbell finally urged the still-bawling Tricia to get up on her feet. Oblivious to her state of undress, Tricia pranced in front of her father while feeling her bottom gingerly. Tricia was a mess, her eyes were wet and puffy, her nose was running, and she was crying and hiccupping at the same time. Responding to the open-armed invitation of her father, the nearly naked girl climbed back up into his lap, put her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder for a long cry.
Diane could wait no longer; “Mr. Campbell?” she finally asked “May I please go to the bathroom?”
Looking past his daughter, Andy looked at Diane appraisingly, “Didn’t you have plenty of time to do that before?” he asked, “Why now?”
Diane answered with a frantic plea that almost convinced him, “It just happened while you were…I mean...when Tricia was getting…I REALLY have to go Mr. Campbell!” “OK, I will have to believe you,” decided Andy, “But I can’t take a chance on you running off on me. Are all of your clothes here in this room?” he asked. “Yes sir” she replied. “If you are going to leave my sight before you get your punishment, leave that bathrobe here so I know that you’ll not be tempted to leave the house.”
“Thank you Mr. Campbell,” Diane breathed as she shrugged her way out of the bathrobe and left in a pile next to the chair. Andy glanced at the girl just long enough to ascertain that she was sufficiently bare, and then turned his attention back to his daughter. Clothed only in a bra, Diane rushed out of the room, heading straight for the bathroom.
Two minutes later, Diane returned, looking greatly relieved. She closed the door behind her and, with Mr. Campbell studiously ignoring her nearly naked body, picked up her robe. Knowing that the robe was coming off again momentarily, Diane merely draped it over her shoulders and wrapped it around herself and then stood quietly behind Mr. Campbell’s chair, waiting for him to finish comforting his daughter.
After what seemed like an eternity, the man urged his daughter off his lap. She stood there for a moment sniffling and rubbing her bottom, looking distinctly childlike. “Tricia” he said, “remember that you must submit a satisfactory paper by Friday, or you, me, and this hairbrush will have an appointment to keep.” That seemed to snap Tricia out of her trance.
“Yes Daddy”, she promised earnestly, “It will be a good paper and I will be done by Friday morning, Diane even offered to help me.”
“That’s very nice of her,” Mr. Campbell said with honest pleasure, “But remember that the paper you turn in must be your own work.”
“I know Daddy,” Tricia explained, “Diane said she would help with the proofreading and the typing, but I’ll do the writing.”
“That sounds like a real good plan,” enthused Mr. Campbell, “Why don’t you invite Diane to spend the week with us? That will give you two more time together.”
Forgetting her own sore bottom, and Diane’s impending spanking for just a moment, Tricia looked at Diane beseechingly.
“That would be a nice break from the dormitory,” Diane finally conceded “Thanks’, I would like that”.
Impulsively, the still nearly naked Tricia hugged Diane. “Thanks Diane, I was really worried about that paper. Now I have a lot more confidence.” Diane smiled a bit and returned the hug.
Tricia’s sobs returned a bit as her father led her to her bed. He peeled the covers back and she lay facedown on the bed. He covered his daughter with just a sheet and gave her a peck on her still-wet cheek. “Your mother will be up with some skin cream for both of you as soon as I finish with Diane,” he promised.
Without another word, the father sat back down in the straight back chair and looked directly at Diane, who stepped back and looked back at him like a mouse looks at a snake. They locked eyes for a moment.
“Well Diane,” Mr. Campbell said with a husky voice, “Are you ready to get your first spanking over with?”
“I…I guess so sir” the girl replied unsteadily.
“OK, then,” he said in a businesslike voice, “Stand in front of me and explain exactly why you are being punished.”
Fresh tears erupted from Diane’s eyes and her gut twisted again, but she managed to get out the words, “Because…because I stopped trying in school, and didn’t do my assignments, and cut a bunch of classes, and failed two of my subjects and almost got myself kicked out of the University and…and almost ruined the rest of my life.”
“That’s very good,” Mr. Campbell added helpfully, “but you also seriously disappointed the Gov…, err…I mean your mentor and you know that your mother wouldn’t be pleased if she were still alive.” Those words almost ended the conversation, because Diane put her face in her hands and sobbed freely. In a much kinder voice Andy urged, “Please calm down and look at me Diane. I know this is hard for you, but I must be sure that everything is clear before we start your punishment.” With difficulty, Diane raised her wet face out of her hands and looked into a tear-blurred version of Mr. Campbell’s face. Seeing that he again had her attention, he said, “You understand that you are not being spanked for low grades, right? I wouldn’t do that to you even for the Governor.”
“Yes Sir,” she said, “I understand. This is about my behavior, not my grades.”
“Good,” he said, “I needed to be sure that part was clear.”
It was obvious to Diane that her spanking was imminent. She was a scared girl! Her knees felt weak and shaky, her teeth chattered, she couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with her suddenly sweaty hands, and she felt almost like she needed to pee again. Andy could see that the girl was suffering terribly, even though he hadn’t yet touched her. “OK, just a couple of quick things before we start, so we are both clear on what is going to happen and what is expected of you.” The girl nodded, telling him that she was paying attention; “You are gong to get the first half of your punishment momentarily, and it will leave your bottom sore for the next few days.” With fresh tears flooding her face, Diane nodded again; “I hate to make you wait, but next Friday evening, one week from today, you’ll get your second spanking, assuming that your bottom has healed sufficiently.”
“Yes sir,” Diane acknowledged soberly.
“Until then, you’re on your own, but I hope you will stay here with us and let us care for you and keep you busy so your waiting won’t be so bad, but in any case I expect you to be here next Friday evening in time for supper and the rest of your punishment.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir:” the girl blubbered.
“OK,” Mr. Campbell said pointing to the floor next to him, “come around to my right side. ‘ On wobbly legs, the girl obeyed. As she did, she eyed the hairbrush lying on the floor next to the chair. Perhaps because of that feared hairbrush, the girl ended up a bit too far away from his lap, so Mr. Campbell gently took Diane’s forearm and guided her closer, nearly against his right hip. “Drop your robe and bend over into position,” He ordered, as he deliberately and gallantly turned his gaze away from her body. He sensed, more than heard the girl unwrap robe, drop it to the floor, and then he felt the pressure on his lap as the girl laid herself into position for her punishment.
Mr. Campbell finally looked down, looking directly at the nearly naked girl for the first time. In a moment of slightly guilty self-indulgence, the man reflected that the girl’s body was every bit as stunning as he had expected. Placing his hands gingerly on her hips, he adjusted her position slightly, putting her bare bottom in exactly the perfect position so his arm could impart the maximum blow. Her toes dug into the carpet, and he watched her bottom cheeks clench in unhappy anticipation. “Honey,” he asked gently, “Put your right hand in the small of your back so I can hold it for you.” There was a delay while her overloaded brain processed the request, but finally the girl complied. Andy grasped the girl’s wrist and pressed down firmly to pin Diane’s torso in place. Without further warning or delay, Mr. Campbell’s right hand raised up over his head and pistoned down, landing in the meatiest part of Diane’s right buttock. Downstairs, Mrs. Campbell and Jane easily heard the first spank, and then they heard two more loud spanks before Diane was able to fill her shocked lungs sufficiently to generate a proper shriek. As he had with Tricia, Andy started the spanking with 10 very hard spanks. This was Andy’s normal strategy, the intent was always to start the punishment with a “bang” and instantly induce tears.   Although Diane would have sworn differently, those first spanks were actually not as hard as the ones that had started Tricia’s spanking. Unlike Tricia’s spanking, Diane’s first spanks were intended to hurt like the dickens, but not bruise. For Diane, the bruising would come later with the hairbrush, but first she had to suffer through a long, hard, hand spanking.
Except for those first few spanks that weren’t quite as hard as those suffered earlier by Tricia, Diane’s spanking proceeded as a carbon copy of Tricia’s. At first, he was a little put off by the kaleidoscope of colors that he was witnessing on Diane’s bottom. The instant he raised his hand after a spank, he would see a white handprint, which would almost instantly turn red. The milk chocolate skin of Diane’s bottom got redder and redder as he spanked. At first, he was concerned, but then he realized that this was the first time he had spanked a bottom that wasn’t totally black skinned. Reassured, he continued on with his work.
As promised, it was a severe spanking. Diane was no more able to keep from howling, squirming, and kicking than Tricia had earlier. Near the end of that first barrage of ten severe spanks, Diane forgot herself and allowed her legs to splay wide, giving Mr. Campbell a rear view of Diane’s womanly charms that is usually reserved for husbands and occasionally for medical doctors. Although he did not slack in his duty, he viewed the scenery with secret guilty pleasure. Just as he had before, Mr. Campbell glanced at his watch once or twice during the ensuing spanking to make sure that Diane got a full measure of punishment. Finally, Diane dimly realized that she was no longer being spanked.
The first spanks had been so hard, that Diane didn’t realize that Mr. Campbell had been just using his hand. Therefore, the red-bottomed, loudly crying girl had no reason to believe that her spanking wasn’t over. Far worse, Diane had no reason to suspect that the worst part of her spanking was still ahead! Tricia, on the other hand, knew better. Unable to look away, Tricia had turned her head to watch Diane’s spanking from her bed, but now she buried her face and covered her head with her pillow to muffle the shrieks that she knew that nasty hairbrush would drag from Diane’s lips.
Not having Tricia’s experience with Campbell family punishments, Diane’s spank-numbed brain noticed, but assigned no special significance when she felt Mr. Campbell shift slightly on the hard-backed chair and seem to reach down to the floor. When she heard Mr. Campbell speak, she knew that it must be important, but she just couldn’t relate his words to her own already-scorched bottom. He said something like this: “…this is going to really hurt, but I want you to think about why you are being punished. Are you listening Diane? …Diane?”   Even though she didn’t totally understand, Diane managed to nod convincingly enough for Andy to proceed. She felt him shift under her again, and then felt his leg firmly pin her two legs down. Next, she felt him redouble the firmness of his grip on her wrist and increase the downward pressure that was already keeping her torso firmly captive over his left leg.
“Ok, here goes,” he said in a tense voice.
Mr. Campbell truly hated to do this to anyone, but he gritted his teeth and started. As the girl screamed, twisted and bucked, he methodically used that hairbrush to mark her entire bottom with a series of bruises that she would be feeling for several days to come.   Every time the brush landed, it made sort of a “splash” in her firm flesh, with ripples radiating from the point of impact.
The hairbrush portion of the punishment probably took no more than a minute. Andy had real tears in his eyes when he finished. He held Diane in place firmly in place for several moments to allow her to regain sanity and a measure of control over her body. Finally he gave the blubbering, coughing, sweating girl a tender squeeze and told her, “OK, it’s over Diane, you can get up now.   Unsteadily, the girl got to her feet and reached back with both hands. The touch reignited millions of insulted nerve endings, bringing forth a new torrent of tears. As he had done with his own daughter, Mr. Campbell held out his arms invitingly. That’s all Diane needed, still naked from her bra down, she climbed up into his lap for a long cry.
Mrs. Campbell entered the room with a jar of lotion in her hand. Mr. Campbell comforted Diane, while Elizabeth tenderly applied lotion to Tricia’ buttocks. Finally, the parents guided Diane to her bed for her own lotion treatment. After hugs and kisses all around, the parents left the two girls face-down in their beds covered only by light sheets. After a few final sniffles, the two girls fell fast asleep.

--------------------

The next morning, the two girls bused to the campus library to work on Tricia’s paper. As local custom dictated, they moved to the back of the bus, though some might wonder why the two girls chose to stand for the ride.
The following days were a blur of activity. Tricia came up with a whole new theme for the paper. The entire weekend was spent in the library doing research and making notes on 3 by 5 cards. Tricia put he cards into a logical order, and then made an outline for the new paper. After a bit of collaboration, the girls finally agreed on a final outline. Then Tricia started writing in longhand. As she finished each page, Diane typed the first draft. By Wednesday night, they had the first draft typed and “marked up” with various revisions. Diane then typed the second draft while Tricia worked on the bibliography and end notes.
Finally, they typed out an unprecedented third draft. They both agreed that it was the best research paper they had ever seen. They put it in an impressive binder, and then Tricia delivered it to her professor hours before the deadline. He graded it an “A”, and then downgraded it to a “B” for tardiness. It was the best result that Tricia could possibly hope for. By noon Friday, the girls were celebrating over lunch.
Both Tricia and Diane profited greatly from the project. Tricia really needed the help, while Diane needed distraction from her own problems and enjoyed the familial comfort of the Campbell home. It was also good for Jane. Her school’s semester wasn’t quite over yet. Diane took an interest and helped Jane drill for her final exams.
With the paper done, both girls, especially Diane, had time to worry about Diane’s punishment which was to happen that evening. Mrs. Campbell put things in perspective when she quietly pulled Diane aside that afternoon. “How does your bottom feel?” she asked.
Suspecting why she was being asked, Diane answered carefully. “It’s mostly OK.”
“Mostly?” Mrs. Campbell asked. “I don’t want you spanked tonight if your bottom is still bruised.”
“Please!” Diane begged, “Don’t make me wait. I’m scared, but I REALLY want to get my punishment over.”
“I understand how you feel,” Elizabeth said, “but we can’t have you injured. Mr. Campbell insists that I look at your bottom to be sure.”
With her heart in her throat, Diane allowed herself to be led into the bathroom. Blushing furiously, she lowered her pants and panties to present her bottom for inspection.
“There are still some marks from last week.” Elizabeth said, “My suggestion would be to wait a couple more days. Are you sure you really want to go through with it tonight?”
Diane’s stomach flipped. Despite her earlier declaration, she was almost tempted to accept the offered delay. Before she could change her mind she blurted, “The only thing worse than getting spanked tonight would be being made to wait longer for it.”
Elizabeth warned with uncharacteristic sternness; “Mr. Campbell won’t go easy on you just because you have a tender bottom, so don’t even ask. You’ve earned a hard spanking, and doubtless he’ll deliver.”
Her eyes welling with tears, Diane nodded. “I know Mrs. Campbell; I just want to get it over. I hate to be so much trouble to you and Mr. Campbell.”
“OK Diane” Elizabeth said, gathering Diane into a comforting hug, “I just needed to ensure that you understand. …And you are no trouble. You’re a wonderful person and we’re proud to be able to help you.”
With Tricia’s project over, the afternoon dragged for Diane. However, she noticed the girls acting mysterious, as if they were bursting with some secret. She tried asking Tricia about it, but only got an enigmatic smile. Diane might have hoped that she was somehow to be let off from her spanking, but her earlier talk with Mrs. Campbell made that unlikely. To pass the time, Diane helped Mrs. Campbell in the kitchen until Mr. Campbell arrived from work. Suddenly Diane found herself urged to “go be with the girls”. Obviously the parents needed to talk.

--------------------

Soon everyone was called to supper. Supper was uneventful, except that Diane kept noticing significant glances between the various Campbell’s. Finally the dishes were cleared away and desert plates brought out. Mr. Campbell cleared his throat. “It seems that a little family conference is in order.” Diane started to stand, thinking that she shouldn’t be included. “No, please sit Diane” Mr. Campbell said, “This concerns you.”
There was a pregnant silence, but finally he spoke again. “I’m sorry about what must happen this evening Diane. I’m not looking forward to it, and I’m sure you’re not either. What we need to talk about has no bearing on your coming punishment … understand?
Diane nodded dumbly, but of course she didn’t understand.
“I have been getting phone calls all day.” He began. “First it was Tricia, then Jane, and finally Elizabeth. They all wanted the same thing; they all wanted you to move out of your dorm and live here as part of our family. I … I want it too.” Before Diane could speak, he continued in a husky voice. “You would follow the same rules as Tricia and Jane, and be subject to their discipline, including spankings if necessary. You uniquely know precisely what that means. Think about it, you don’t have to decide today.”
Diane sat in shock, not believing her ears. Finally she swallowed and found her voice. “I don’t need to think about it. I want that more than anything in the world. How can I thank you? …all of you!” All of the Campbell’s were in tears, but Diane never knew, she was crying herself.

There’s really no need to describe the spanking that Diane received that evening because it was a carbon copy of last week’s spanking.

She was dressed the same. Only a bra

The chair was the same

The hairbrush was the same

Mr. Campbell’s technique was the same.

He spanked just as hard and just as long.

She screeched just as loud and cried just as hard.

She learned her lesson just as well.

But one big thing was different. For the first time in her life, Diane was across the lap of a real father figure, a man who loved her.

Yes, Diane had found a home.

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Drop Your Drawers M/F

2010-12-14T20:49:00.000-05:00

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Drop Your Drawers

“Drop your Drawers”; the parole agent ordered.

From prior experience, I knew he meant the word in the plural so I pushed my pants and panties down to my ankles in one motion.

That was a mistake.

“I want them off” he clarified.

Now I had a mess. I was standing in the middle of his office with my pants and panties tangled up in my shoes. He smiled thinly at my discomfort. I tried pulling the pants past my shoes, but it was no use. Finally I squatted to untie and pull off my shoes. Then, balancing on one leg at a time, I finally divested myself of pants and panties; giving him a lewd show in the process. How often does the twerp pull that little trick?

Looking me in the eye, he pulled a nasty-looking hairbrush from a drawer and dramatically plopped it on the desk. I was really in for it.

>>>>>>>>>>>

I live in an island nation with laws that are quite different from yours. Our laws are designed to be pragmatic and economical. They have to be. We’re a civilized country, but poor. Of necessity, our prison system is nearly self-sustaining. It’s intended to cheaply convert us convicts into law-abiding, productive citizens; even if it hurts.

Most of the prison guards are actually parolees. Men paroles guard the lady’s prison while female cons guard the men’s prison. Actual penitentiary time is usually brief, with prisoners quickly transferring from the pen to work barracks, then eventually being assigned to “outside” paying jobs, and then hopefully paroled out to rented rooms to live under supervision. That’s my situation now.

We won’t dwell on my crime; but I was lucky to only get two years. I spent two months in the pen. It was hell! Fortunately, if you follow the rules perfectly, you only get one spanking a day. You don’t want to know what happens to rule-breakers!

Our climate is mild, so they don’t waste money on prison uniforms, making it more convenient for them to spank us. Needless to say, I was delighted to finally be transferred to the work barracks. I got real clothes and fewer spankings.

I worked in the prison kitchen for six months before they assigned me to an “outside” job working in a restaurant. They took my paycheck, putting some aside for eventual room rent. So now I rent a room, work that job, and try to stay out of trouble; albeit not always successfully.

Today’s trouble started when I met a friendly Brit here on holiday. He seemed happy to spend his money on me, and I was happy to let him. All went well until I skipped work to share his last day on the island. My employer reported me for breaking parole, so now I’m bare bottomed in the parole office…again.

>>>>>>>>>>>

The parole agent’s prurient interest was made clear when he stood. His erection was straining his zipper! The twerp didn’t even bother to hide it. Regardless of his dirty thoughts, my body (bottom excepted) was safe. My parole agent was on parole himself, therefore not totally trusted. The surveillance camera assured I would get a spanking, but nothing else.

Even knowing the fate of my bottom, resistance was unthinkable. The twerp needed only push a button to summon help, and then I would be taken down to the basement where an a-frame and prison strap awaited. Nope! I must take my medicine from this twerp. After all, I DID violate my parole.

The parole agent dragged his chair to the middle of his dingy little office, grabbed the hairbrush, sat down, and crooked a finger. Unwillingly, I moved to his front, my exposed sex inches from his face. By now, my anger and defiance had dissolved into a puddle of fear. Feeling sad, tiny and vulnerable, I put myself across the waiting lap.

I know you’re interested in such things, but it’s really hard to describe my spanking. I was there, but I didn’t get to see it. For sure, that hairbrush flattened my butt cheeks and raised interesting waves in the flesh each time it fell. I’m told that the brush leaves a white outline that almost immediately changes to livid red as blood rushes back into the impact point. Doubtless, my bottom was a study in motion after the first few spanks. As my torso bounced from the impacting brush, I could feel my groin grind against a hardness in the center of the agent’s lap. To my shame, I found myself wishing that the agent, just this once, would molest my sinfully damp sex…just a little.

Doubtless, folks viewing that video signal got a helluva show. My legs kicked and splayed with lusty abandon. They couldn’t miss seeing my most intimate bodily orifices. Is it a color camera? Do they have wide-screen TV?

And the noise! Oh gosh the noise! That hairbrush walloping my bottom sounded like gunfire, but after a few seconds I was drowning it out. I screamed, begged, wailed. Naturally, he ignored it all. The spanking continued until the agent was sure that I had learned my lesson. I guess I got off lightly; he could have tossed me back into jail.

Then it was over. With surprising gentleness the parole agent helped me up. Despite myself I wanted a hug, but the camera ensured that wouldn’t happen. The agent moved behind his desk to watch me dance and rub my bright-red ass. Finally, I reversed my earlier strip-tease to dress.

Later, I walked stiffly out the front of the parole office. My rented room and my job were still waiting for me. Honestly, I have no hard feelings against that parole agent. He’s just another con doing his assigned job.

Hopefully, I learned my lesson this time. If not, my little countries’ penal system will reach out to find some economical, if painful, way to make me learn.

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Just 4 Kids Part 2

2010-11-20T21:09:00.003-05:00

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JUST 4 Kids: Part Two

Regrouped outside, well away from Jan’s house, a slightly chagrined Guy finally got a moment to talk privately to Jan. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

She paused, considering. “A little.” she admitted. “It’s sort of like when my Daddy spanks me; I know he loves me, but I just don’t feel right about him for a couple of days. I guess I’ll get over it.”

Guy wasn’t happy with that answer; so he started to form a plan. After a renewed vow of silence, the group scattered to their individual homes for supper.

Although he almost “chickened out” several times, Guy just couldn’t get the idea out of his mind. Afraid of risking rejection by Jan, he decided to try his idea out on Kelly. In a private moment, he picked up the phone and called. Kelly’s mom answered,

“Can I talk to Kelly?”

Finally, Kelly came on the phone. After some initial small talk, Guy finally asked Kelly if she were free to “really talk”. Kelly looked around furtively and answered that it was safe for the moment.

“Have you been talking to Jan?” Guy asked, afraid of the answer.

“Yes,” Kelly said, “she said her bottom really hurts, almost as bad as when her daddy spanks her bare with the hairbrush”.

The words gushed out of Guy before he could change his mind, “Kelly, I REALLY don’t want Jan mad at me, so I want me and her to get ‘even’ tomorrow”.

“What do you mean Guy?” Kelly asked, genuinely puzzled.

“I…I…I mean I want HER to spank ME…bare and hard until my butt is bright red, just like she got it from me” Guy blurted.

There was a long silence.

“Are you sure about this?” Kelly finally asked, “Because if you really want, Tom and I could gang up on you. Then, if you made a few dumb moves to help us, we could almost certainly make sure that you go bankrupt first. Then all we have to do is make sure that Jan somehow comes out the winner.”

Faced with this unexpected answer to his dilemma, Guy suddenly wasn’t so sure. He swallowed twice, suddenly picturing himself naked, kicking and squalling over Jan’s lap. After a pause to collect his suddenly elusive courage, Guy finally agreed.

The next morning, it was Tom who raised a practical question: “What if Jan loses again? Her bottom couldn’t take another spanking so soon.” The solution turned out to be simple; make Jan exempt.. All four of them would start the game. In the unlikely situation where Jan was the first person to be bankrupt, she would be exempt and the next loser would be today’s “slave” and would have to take the spanking. Otherwise, yesterday’s rules would apply.

The game went as planned. Kelly and Tom worked together to block Guy from controlling any color groups. Somehow, Jan managed to own all the railroads and control two color groups. Soon she was placing hotels in Park Place and bleeding everyone dry. Because of their cooperation, Kelly and Tom easily bested Guy, who ended up bankrupt. Suddenly Guy felt three sets of eyes on him. It was time for him to undress and assume his “slave” duties so the game could resume.

With butterflies in his stomach, Guy bravely undressed himself. He finished by stepping out of his underpants. Guy blushed as he saw the two girls staring frankly at his “thing”. With a wicked grin, Tom dared them to touch it, but to Guy’s relief neither girl was feeling quite that brave.

Finally, Tom, Kelly & Jan resumed the game. They kept Guy busy, individually asking for drinks and snacks to keep him moving around the game table, keeping his nakedness in view. As he walked, Guy nervously clenched his nether cheeks and surreptitiously felt back there, wondering if his bottom was tough enough for him to take his spanking without acting like a baby. Based on his previous experience with painful trips over his parent’s laps, he doubted it.

Fortunately for Guy’s nerves, it soon became clear that Jan would be the winner. Tom and Kelly looked at each other across the game board, winked in silent victory, and simultaneously conceded the game to Jan. For better or worse, Guy was about to get his way; he was about to be spanked by Jan.

“Well”, Kelly said to her friend, “it looks like this is your chance to get even for yesterday”.

Jan was a bit dazed at the turn of events. At this point she honestly felt no particular need to “get even” with Guy for yesterday’s spanking, but “rules were rules”. The group’s rules said that it was now her job to spank Guy, and she certainly wasn’t willing too “wimp out” in front of her friends. So it was just too bad for Guy’s bottom!

Jan stood and pointed to the center of the room. In a voice filled with bravado and false confidence the girl ordered, “Put us a spanking chair right there slave and then stand one pace in front of it”. With his heart in his throat, the naked boy obeyed.

Jan sipped on her drink and allowed the tension to build in the room as Guy stood alone, looking at the empty spanking chair. Finally, with a bit of a flourish she took her seat. It was no accident that this arrangement put her eyes mere inches from Guy’s penis. She drank in the close-up view and snapped a mental picture before ordering Guy to her side. Guy took the opportunity to whisper to her plaintively “Do a good job and get it over with as fast as you can. I promise not to be mad at you.”

Jan wordless nodded her agreement, and then ordered Guy over her lap. As usual, Jan was wearing shorts, so this put Guy’s penis between her bare legs, a situation that neither of them had considered in advance. Fortunately, both were more concerned with Guy’s bottom than his front, so no harm was done.

Without further formalities, Jan went to work, spanking in a “right-left-right” pattern.

Five minutes later, it was obvious that there was a problem. Jan was becoming red-faced and winded, while Guy was mildly red-bottomed, dry-eyed and only squirming slightly under Jan’s efforts.

Kelly spoke up first, “I think we need to let Tom finish this. I guess we need to admit that the boys are stronger than us girls.”

Somehow resistant to the idea of being spanked by another boy, Guy got another idea and spoke up, “I vote we let Jan use a hairbrush.”

“Technically”, said Kelly, “I don’t think the slave gets a vote. But actually, that sounds like a pretty good idea.”

Still breathing hard, Jan told Tom to look for a hairbrush on her parent’s dresser. It took Tom a couple minutes to find it, so Jan had time to get her wind back. Meanwhile, Guy could do nothing but uncomfortably squirm.

Soon, Guy’s spanking was again underway. He noticed the difference immediately! The room filled with the popping noise of smooth hardwood meeting young, firm, bottomflesh.

Perhaps Jan’s earlier “wimpy” spanks had given Guy a false sense of security, because he clearly wasn’t prepared for the intense pain the hairbrush caused. The boy tried frantically to stay in position and to keep from humiliating himself by crying and begging, but to no avail. Soon he was kicking, and crying just like any other well-spanked kid. His legs kicked and scissored violently, his bottom cheeks bounced and bobbed and quickly reddened under the unwelcome attention of the dancing hardwood.

Kelly, who had strategically located herself where she could enjoy the rear view of Guy’s maleness, was just reaching to help restrain Guy’s legs, when she noticed the fight seemed to drain out of him, though his bawling continued unabated. Noticing the livid color of the boy’s bottom, she tapped Jan on the shoulder and gave her a “thumbs up” with a questioning look on her face. Catching the motion, Tom agreed, adding his own “thumbs up”. Jan nodded, Guy’s spanking was over.

Even though Jan released him, Guy made no immediate move to get off of Jan’s lap. So Jan simply rubbed her friend’s back and watched as his sobbing gradually decreased. Jan was just thinking about sending Tom for the lotion, when she heard a sound that scared her to death! Barely audible at first, it was her grandmother’s voice calling “Jan…Jan…Jan where are you?”

As her grandmother’s voice got louder and louder, Jan jumped up in panic, dumping the still-naked Guy onto the floor.

“Quick, under the table!” Jan hissed.

Kelly and Tom ducked under the table, dragging the addled Guy after them. Jan peeked around the corner just in time to see her grandmother peering myopically into the front window. Since the old lady apparently hadn’t seen her, Jan flattened herself against the wall, hoping her grandmother would go away. It wasn’t to be. For once, the old lady had not only remembered to bring her purse, but she remembered that it contained a key to Jan’s house.

Everybody responds to stress differently, but Guy was suffering from a series of stressful events. First the painful spanking, then being dumped off Jan’s lap and then being dragged away before his muddled mind could catch up with events. And now fear. Fear of imminent discovery, and certainly fear of imminent parental punishment if they were discovered..

Guy had never reacted that way before, but today his body tried to betray him:

“HIC!”

To his despair, Guy had developed a sudden and very loud case of the hiccups!

The other three kids looked at him in terror!

“Hic!”

Still quite naked, Guy sat under the table with his hand over his mouth, praying that it wouldn’t happen again.

“Hic!”

Suddenly there was the sound of a key turning in the front door. The door opened.

“Hic!”

Thinking quickly, Jan rushed into the living room talking loudly: “Oh hi grandma, I just came in to use the bathroom. Everyone else went home, so I was just getting ready to go to your house.”

From behind her she heard

“Hic!”

“What’s that?” grandma asked.

“That’s just the toilet.” Jan improvised, “It always makes that sound after you flush it.”

At that, Jan bundled her grandmother back out the front door, with nary a glance behind her. She slammed the door shut, locked it, and the two walked off towards grandmother’s house. (OK, Jan walked; her grandmother tottered.)

Under the table, Tom and Kelly let out huge sighs of relief. Guy said

“Hic!”

At the sudden release from the drama of their near miss, the three kids giggled uncontrollably, which didn’t help Guy’s hiccups one bit!

Still hiccupping, Guy pulled his clothes on, wincing as his pants slid past his swollen bottom. Quickly, Tom and Kelly worked together to put the house back into order while Guy acted as lookout.

Finally the three kids let themselves out the back door and scattered for home. As Guy walked away, they heard one last hiccup.

The tensions of the day finally gone, Guy had recovered from the hiccups by the time he got home. Although his bottom throbbed, he was happy that his spanking was behind him. Even though he had cried, he hadn’t “chickened out”, and that was good enough for him.

Epilogue:

Of course, with only half the kids spanked, the group was in an intolerable state of cosmic unbalance. It obviously remained for both Tom and Kelly to prove their mettle by submitting to spankings that equaled the ones suffered by Jan and Guy. Further, those spankings needed to happen quickly since summer vacation was almost over.

Sobered by their near miss, the kids got together the next morning to make an eminently sensible plan. First, they wisely dropped the Monopoly game to minimize their time inside the dangerous confines of Jan’s house. A simple coin toss would now serve to decide who got spanked. The “winner” would get the option to either give or receive today’s spanking. Tomorrow, Tom and Kelly would simply swap roles for the final spanking. When the time for the coin toss came, Tom did the gallant thing; He covered the coin and offered Kelly the option. Since she didn’t fancy prolonging the inevitable, she gulped and elected to receive her spanking. After checking carefully to be sure nobody was watching, the group sneaked back into Jan’s house. Kelly stripped, was made to parade around nude for a few minutes, and then laid across Tom’s lap for a memorable hand spanking. The next morning, it was Tom’s turn to put himself across Kelly’s lap for a serious dose of the hairbrush. Both Tom and Kelly yelped and squealed and shed tears aplenty, but both were otherwise amazingly brave. Each kid hated being spanked, but each found the exciting experience of seeing, touching, and spanking a naked member of the opposite sex plenty of compensation for their own pain and humiliation.

It was over! Finally, each of the kids had both received and given one “real” spanking. Their world was again in balance.

That turned out to be the end of the group’s experimentation with spanking. All four kids had satisfied their anatomical curiosity and had proven their bravery to their peers. Their “spanking games” had never truly been sexual. (OK; probably some proto-hormones were involved) After all, these were just four kids on the cusp of puberty, (albeit some inevitably further along than others). True sexual exploration was still somewhere in their hormone-charged futures.

Over the next months, the four kids stayed mostly occupied with school maters. Their “spanking games” fell to the wayside, simply another event in their pre-sexual past, something childish, only spoken of in embarrassed indirect generalities, and then only with a smirk. Would any of them turn out to truly have the “spanking kink”? It’s just too early to tell, so we will have to wait to see..

Yes, I know what you’re thinking! It’s odd that the kids never got caught by their parents. But kids aren’t stupid, especially these 4 kids. Sometimes it’s astounding the mischief that kids can figure out how to get away with.

Guyspencer Home Page

Just 4 Kids Part 1

2010-11-20T21:09:00.002-05:00

Guyspencer Home Page

Just 4 Kids; Part 1

To understand this story, let's take a quick trip back to my childhood. Jan, my next-door neighbor and I were favorite playmates since toddlerhood. Especially since we were different sexes, we had a natural and healthy curiosity about each other's bodies. So naturally we invented games that facilitated something we instinctively knew our parents would forbid; the mutual discovery of each other's bodies. The first thing that we tried was swapping clothes. When I came home wearing Jan's pants and she came home wearing mine, our parents somehow figured out that we must have been disrobed somewhere in between. They quickly and painfully discouraged THAT game. Then we invented a new game, called either "house" or "school" depending on the day. One of us was either the parent or the teacher, while the other was the "kid". Inevitably the "kid" was "bad" and earned a spanking. A play spanking always resulted; a spanking that usually required lowered pants. Had Jan's family not moved away, perhaps our play spankings would gradually have become more real; perhaps even progressing from "pants down" to “underwear off”. Who knows where we might have gone from there!

This story is a fantasy about how life might have been had Jan not moved away.

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Just 4 Kids: Part One

Shucking off her shorts and top in front of her friends had become familiar enough, but this time Jan saw all three of them staring at her panties with a new expectation. She temporized, deliberately folding up her clothes and neatly placing them on the couch. Now, for the first time, she must take off her panties and bra in front of the group; and then, later, there would be...

Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes with a suddenness that embarrassed her as she reached down to the elastic at her waist. She couldn’t help but think about the spanking that she would get as soon as the other kids were done with the game; not just a few swats on her bottom, but a REAL spanking, just like her parents occasionally gave her, until her bottom was really red and until she was really crying! Why had she agreed to this game?

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It had been an idyllic summer, but now the first day of school was looming. The four kids, Tom, Guy, Kelley and Jan had known each other forever, but had become especially close over this summer. They were particularly enjoying a new freedom that had been gradually granted to them over the last few months. Since they stuck together so well, and seemed to play without conflict or destructive mischief, their parents had gradually become accustomed to allowing them to play outside for hours at a time without supervision. They even gained occasional permission to walk to the mall for games, movies and snacks as long as their parents knew where they were and they promised to stay together.

All four of the kids had their mothers at home all day except for Jan, whose mother worked. Jan was supposedly watched by her Grandmother who lived on the next block. Jan’s grandmother was a loving lady who liked to nap during the day and was secretly relieved that Jan didn’t seem to require much supervision. Jan had a key to her own home, which was empty while her parents were at work, but she was only supposed to enter briefly for necessities and wasn’t allowed to have her friends inside.

As the days became hotter, the kids came to enjoy a regular game of Monopoly in the afternoon. The game initially moved from home to home, but finally settled on the broad, shady back porch of Jan’s home. The kids not only enjoyed the coolness of the porch, but particularly liked the freedom of being able to say whatever was on their minds without the intruding presence of adult ears. The mothers were a little concerned about this new location at first, but because they all lived so close together, and because the kids always seemed to be so good, they gradually stopped constantly checking on them. Perhaps each thought that the other parents were keeping better tabs on the kid’s activities. So the four youngsters gradually drifted off of their parents “radar screens” for entire afternoons.

As the friends gradually became better at Monopoly, they added embellishments of their own to avoid boredom; some of these “special rules” involved things that their parents would certainly not approve of. Sometimes they would enter the forbidden territory of Jan’s house briefly so the winner could give the looser a few swats over his or her shorts. Often, the first person to “go broke” and be eliminated from the game would become the “slave” and would have to serve the others still playing the game drinks and other snacks pilfered from the seemingly limitless bounty inside Jan’s house. These “special rules” were always negotiated before each game. Just two weeks ago when Jan became the “slave”, someone mentioned that it would be nice if she dressed the part of a slave. Jan went inside her house, but the best she could come up with was her bikini bathing suit. Even though they had seen her in it many times before, the boys thought this was a great idea!

The following day, Tom ended up as the ‘slave. Since he didn’t have a handy wardrobe, there was considerable discussion about how he should dress for the part. It was decided that his underpants had to do. The game now had to move inside the banned territory of Jan’s house so Tom could safely disrobe. Nobody really thought about it, but the “game” had now moved distinctly into forbidden territory; the mutual exploration of their young bodies.

Tom had earlier agreed to receive ten swats from the winner, but these were to have been delivered to the outside of the jeans he was no longer wearing. This caused an unexpected 4-way negotiation session. Tom claimed that he shouldn’t be spanked at all, while Kelley, the winner, said that she couldn’t spank all that hard anyhow. Finally, Kelley boldly proposed to deliver only 5 swats if Tom would lower the back of his underpants. “After all” she reasoned, “underpants don’t give much protection anyhow”. Tom found this offer strangely exciting. Pretending to be very reluctant and flushing convincingly, he bared his bottom, laid across Kelley’s lap, and took his licks with only a little squirming. A major Rubicon had just been crossed. With Tom again dressed, the group solemnly agreed to a policy of mutual silence before guiltily moving back out to the porch.

Over the next few days, the games continued their rapid progress into forbidden territory. When Kelley next became the “slave,” the group again snuck inside so that Kelly could strip down to her training bra and cotton panties for her “slave” duties. At the completion of the game, Guy, the winner, delivered five firm swats to her bare bottom. He was surprised at the painful erection that suddenly popped up under her weight; and he was gratified at how strangely wonderful that erection felt as Kelly squirmed. Kelly stood up with moist eyes, pulled up the back of her panties, and then pointed out the unmistakable lump in Guy’s shorts. “I know what that is” she said. Guy blushed a deep red. Kelly decided right then that she wanted to see more of the boy’s bodies before this summer ended.

After a weekend, the group found itself together the following Monday, the last week of summer. Before the game started, Kelly boldly suggested that the “slave” should go totally naked. That was greeted by a gasp or two, but was finally okayed. Then Jan, who was probably the best Monopoly player, suggested the boldest enhancement of all; the loser should get a “real” spanking! What do you mean “real”? Guy asked, “Aren’t they already real”? “I mean a hard spanking like we get from our parents or from the Principal; you know, until the slave is really crying and really gets a red bottom”, Jan said.

There was a long silence.

Finally Kelly spoke up “let’s just do the bare naked thing and the swats today and talk about the hard spanking tomorrow. The group quickly agreed, but the “real” spanking idea was clearly something that wouldn’t go away.

The game started. One hour later, Tom was bankrupt. The game stopped. “OK slave” Kelly said, “off with everything”. With three sets of eyes on him, Tom first sat down to remove his shoes and socks. His shirt followed. He stood up, smirked at the group, undid his belt, unbuttoned, unzipped, and then peeled down his pants. He stood before his friends wearing only his underpants. “Get on with it slave!” Kelly commanded. Tom turned his back to the group and reached for his underpants when a chorus from the group stopped him in his tracks. “NO; Turn around and do that!” Blushing, he turned around, lowered his underpants, and then stepped out of them, bending unnaturally at the waist in a vain attempt to protect his modesty. Tom’s friends quickly ordered him to straighten up and get his hands away from his privates. The girls drank in the view, this first unobstructed look at the fullness of a boy’s body. Brazenly, the girls ordered him to put hands on head and spin around slowly. They were too thrilled to dwell on the distinct possibility that it would soon be one of them on similar display.

The game resumed, with the girls making more than the usual requests for drinks and snacks to keep Tom moving back and forth, not incidentally displaying his “all” to the group of friends. After a while, Tom began to relax and enjoy the game enough to add some gratuitous wiggles to his performance. Perhaps the girls were too distracted to play well; in any event, Guy was an easy winner. Guy ordered the “slave” to put the game back in the box. No sooner had Tom finished that chore than Guy pushed his chair well back from the table and pointed to his lap. With the girls watching avidly, Tom bent over his friend’s lap for what had become the standard five swats. Easily absorbing this punishment, Tom was allowed to dress and the group dispersed long before there was any danger of Jan’s parents coming home from work and discovering them inside the forbidden confines of the house.

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That evening, Tom and Guy had a chance for a private talk, naturally; the main topic of discussion was Jan’s proposal. They certainly were interested in seeing the girls naked, but somehow, for reasons they couldn’t yet understand, the prospect of giving a girl a “real” spanking was far more exciting. “You understand that we could get spanked ourselves” (Guy had a great grasp of the obvious)

“Not only that, one of us boys might have to spank the other, and you realize that we would HAVE to do a good job?”

“Could you take a hard spanking without getting mad and telling?”

“Why would I tell when that would just get me another spanking from my parents for doing something naughty?”

“Oh yea, that’s right! Nobody is going to tell unless we get caught. We just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

The two talked on, but came to no decision.

Likewise, the girls got a chance to talk quietly on the phone just before bedtime:

“Guy is really cute; I would like to see him naked” (giggle)

“Do you think he has a big one?” (Mutual giggle)

“Well I would like to see him naked and squirming around on my lap while I give him a
good spanking” (giggle, giggle).

Somehow, the girls never got around to picturing themselves naked, squirming, kicking, and sobbing while absorbing a hard spanking whilst draped across one of the boy’s laps.

None of the kids was a complete stranger to stern parental corporal punishment, and by now all four of the kids had had enough swats from each other to know what an ordeal a “real” spanking would be.

The scene was set; someone was going to get spanked…hard.

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The next morning, when the group got together for another day’s play, all talk was about Jan’s proposal. They gathered under a cool (and private) tree and hashed out the details. They first decided that the spankings would only be administered by hand; nobody wanted to brave belts, paddles or hairbrushes. Jan objected to this at first because she was afraid that she wasn’t strong enough to properly spank the boys. In that event, it was decided that she should simply do her best work and then ask for help to finish the job. It was decided that the spankings shouldn’t go lower than the buttocks so that the “red” wouldn’t show below their summer shorts, which would be a sure tip-off to their parents and get all four of them in trouble.

There followed considerable discussion about how hard and how long the spanking should be and how that should be judged. Also, there was concern that the spanked person might “get mad” and friendships might suffer. Considering their young ages, the children came up with an ingenious set of rules. First of all, “chickening out” would not be allowed by either the spanker or the “slave”. The spanking MUST proceed as agreed. The spanking would be over when the “slave” was really crying, and the bottom was bright red, and then only when 2 out of the group of 3 decided the spanking was over. There was no way for the “slave” to get off lightly and no way for the “slave” to blame any one person. The “voting” was to be done with “thumbs-up, thumbs-down” signals so the “slave” wouldn’t know who was responsible. Finally, At Tom’s suggestion they also agreed that there was to be no teasing about the tears afterwards. After all, everybody cries then they get spanked!

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After an exciting morning working out these details among themselves, they decided that they would split up for lunch so that they could start their afternoon game a little early. An hour later, just a little after high noon, they were sneaking into Jan’s house. Everybody seemed bright and flush with excitement. Guy got out the game board and spread out the money, cards and tokens.

“Is everybody OK with this?” he asked. “I don’t want anybody to fink out on us.”

Jan took a little longer to respond than the rest of the group, even though this had originally been her idea. She was now having real second thoughts; she really didn’t want a spanking, and she really didn’t want to get naked in front of the group, even though she had enjoyed seeing Tom bare. Quickly, peer pressure won out against her negative thoughts and Jan nodded her agreement. After all, being the best Monopoly player in the group, she was safe; wasn’t she?

The game started. Monopoly is a game of strategy, but there’s still a strong element of chance. From the very start, the dice just weren’t kind to Jan. After her third consecutive stay in jail, and her third start without passing “go” or collecting $200.00, Jan started to squirm. Her stomach had that same “flipping” feeling that it had when her parents sent her to their bedroom to fetch the hairbrush. To put it bluntly, Jan knew early on that she was the one who would be getting spanked. This certain knowledge didn’t help her strategy! After less than half an hour of play, Jan was bankrupt and now it was a three-way game to determine who the spanker was going to be. But first, Jan had to change into her “slave” outfit…her “birthday suit”.

The game paused.

Jan felt three pairs of unwavering eyes looking at her expectantly. Without prodding, she reached for the buttons of her blouse. Starting with her blouse, she worked free all five buttons and shrugged it off. She kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned, unzipped, and pealed off her shorts. Temporizing, she folded her clothing, and piled everything neatly on the couch. Now that it was time to doff her panties, the realness of her coming spanking loomed large. Tears flowed.

“Are you OK Jan?” Kelly asked solicitously. “If this is really a problem I’ll switch with you.”

Jan was briefly tempted, but she straightened up and said bravely, “We said I was supposed to cry, so I am a little”. Before she could change her mind, she reached down and quickly snatched her panties down to the floor, stepped out of them and placed them atop her pile. The bra quickly followed. Tom and Guy squirmed in their seats, their eyes riveted just below Jan’s bellybutton. Jan stood red-faced in front of her friends, one hand cupped over her privates and an arm across her breasts.

Remembering his own previous treatment at the hands of the group, Tom insisted that Jan place her hands on her head and turn around several times to display her entire body. Guy had a younger sister and was slightly familiar with such things, but this was Tom’s first glimpse of the female body. Both boys liked what they saw! Even Kelly felt her pulse quicken in response to these forbidden fruits.

They released Jan to her “slave” duties, and she quickly went to work, attempting to lose herself in her assigned tasks. For some reason, neither of the boys found reason to stand for the remainder of the game. The game resumed. Kelly dropped out within the following half-hour, perhaps purposely. She calmed Jan while the game continued on, hard-fought between the two boys. The winner would be responsible for properly spanking a naked girl. An hour later, it was clear that Guy would be the eventual winner. Because it was getting late, Tom agreed to concede defeat to make way for more important activities. They needed to be out of the house long before Jan’s parents were due back!

The “slave” cleaned all of the drink cans and snacks off the table while the three others watched. Then she carefully and rather slowly put all of the game parts back in the box. Finally, when she could delay no longer, she looked directly at Guy and tears again sprang to her eyes. At the sight of this, Guy started to waver. Kelly again offered to change places, “No; you will get your time sooner or later” Jan said. Still seated in a kitchen chair and hoping his erection wasn’t obvious, Guy pushed his chair back from the table.

Like in a trance, Jan came to him.

What Jan lacked in stoicism, she made up in character and bravery. “Please” she said urgently between soft sobs, “do a good job and get it over with; even if I beg you to stop”. A million conflicting emotions and impulses ran through Guy, most of which he was too young to understand. There was a strong impulse that made him want to spank that firm, tiny, feminine behind, but there was also a human part of him that was reluctant to cause his friend pain. Even Jan felt conflicting emotions. She was clearly afraid of being spanked, but she was also somehow curious about what it would be like to be spanked by a boy. Plus, there was something else. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and she would never admit it; but somehow, on some level, she NEEDED this spanking.

In the end, there was no contest; peer pressure settled the issue for both of them. The spanking was going to happen! Nervous as a young colt, and with her stomach “flipping” furiously, Jan climbed onto Guy’s lap, but then Guy realized that something wasn’t right. Jan’s butt was on the wrong side of his lap. Everyone laughed nervously as Guy urged Jan back up on her feet and guided her over to his other side. Again bent over Guy’s lap, her sobbing grew louder as she gripped the chair legs and prepared for her ordeal. Tom, who happened to be sitting to Guy’s right, suddenly realized that he had the best seat in the house as he stared spellbound, at the perfect angle to view new secrets of Jan’s body.

Guy started out with the familiar five slow, hard, spanks. Jan reacted to these with loud yelps and some energetic butt-wriggling. Then Guy started at his job in earnest. Compared to an adult, Guy wasn’t strong, and was certainly no experienced spanker, but he was determined to give a good account of himself. Jan’s yelps gradually morphed into genuine sobs and then outright cries. Her movements became more and more frantic has she fruitlessly tried to move her bottom out of range of Guy’s busy hand. “Stop! Stop! Oh Stop Please!” she wailed as her right hand came back to protect her rapidly reddening bottom. She could only protect one mound at a time, so for several seconds Guy simply spanked alternate cheeks while Jan’s hand moved back and forth trying to protect the cheek that currently hurt the most. Finally he stopped for a moment to trap Jan’s hand in the small of her back, (as his father had done to him on several unhappy occasions). He glanced up meaningfully at Kelley and Tom, but received two “thumbs down” signals meaning he should continue the spanking. Guy resumed his job, raining new spanks on Jan’s unprotected tush.

Jan’s legs splayed, suddenly treating Tom to a wide-open view usually reserved for medical doctors and lovers. Both Tom and Guy were now dealing with what they knew as “boners”. Guy was feeling a new and delightful pressure against his erection as Jan struggled on his lap. Tom was longing for privacy so he could touch his “thing” in the same manner as he did under the sheets at night. Even Kelly was feeling a new, unexplainable, sensation in her groin.

Jan’s cries became louder and louder and her movements even more urgent. She managed to interrupt her spanking momentarily by curling her legs up over her bottom. Without being asked, Tom gently restrained her ankles and brought them back down to the horizontal.

The spanking resumed yet again.

Totally helpless and with a bright red bottom, Jan finally started to give up the fight. She lay still, absorbing the continuing rain of spanks on her bare bottom with little more than incoherent sobs. It was obvious to all that the spanking was nearly over. Guy looked up for approval and was greeted by two “thumbs up” gestures. The spanking finally over, Guy released the well-spanked girl.

To the astonishment of the boys, Jan jumped to her feet and did a “spanked brat” dance trying to wriggle and rub the pain out of her burning bottom, her tears and cries returned as if she were again being soundly spanked. Kelly sprang up to hug and comfort her friend.

“I told you I would take it for you” Kelly said.

“No, I’m glad it’s over” Jan sobbed.

Kelly had a sudden thought: “Do your parents put lotion on your bottom after a spanking?” she asked quietly.

“Yes” Jan sniffed.

“Where is it?”

“On my Mom’s dresser’” She sobbed.

Happy to do something to make amends, Guy jumped up to find the lotion. He had no problem finding the bottle, noting that it sat right next to a hefty-looking hairbrush. Guy handed the lotion to Kelly, who took her stricken friend into the bathroom to apply the lotion. Although he would have liked to see more of Jan’s red bottom, Guy made the grand, gallant gesture of knocking and handing the pile of Jan’s clothing through the bathroom door.

The two girls finally emerged from the bathroom, Jan looking considerably recovered. With a furtive look at the clock, she suggested that they clean up all evidence of their presence inside the house and “all get outside before we get caught”.

Jan’s ordeal was over: Who was next?

Cintinue to Part 2

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Detention with Corporal Punishment Part 3

2010-10-28T21:23:00.001-04:00

Detention with Corporal Punishment: Part 3

Ed, a student at Edison Junior High, was a boy who seldom caused trouble, but was now enduring that confusing time of his sexual awakening. His parents had found enough soiled bed linens and underpants to know the score, so Ed’s father had the traditional “talk” with him about sex and the changes he was seeing and feeling. In these pre-Internet days, save for that one talk and the dubious wisdom from his peers, Ed really had no sex information available to him. So mostly, he had to figure things out for himself.

Although normally an easy-going boy, certain things began to weigh on Ed’s mind. One was his parent’s idea of discipline. Most of Ed’s friends were spanked, but Ed’s parents favored other punishments, usually grounding. Ed listened to his friend’s spanking stories, and actually envied them. Being spanked seemed simpler than grounding, and being able to brag about bravely “taking” a spanking seemed manly to him. So being spanked seemed “macho” to Ed, not childish.

It’s normal for a teen boy to privately fantasize, but Ed found himself with two recurring fantasies. The first was about being spanked, but the other involved a sexual infatuation with Miss Sara Russell, his school’s Guidance Counselor and acting Dean. Miss Russell was also his school’s youngest and “hottest” female staff member. Since Miss Russell was also the school’s sole designated spanker, Ed’s two fantasies inevitably merged together.

Typical for boys his age, Ed found himself masturbating regularly. Ed’s masturbatory fantasies often featured Miss Russell spanking his bare bottom. From there, it was a tiny mental jump from dreaming about it, to making it really happen.

There were several ways to earn a spanking at Ed’s school, but Ed’s goal was to pick one that wouldn’t affect his permanent record, and would earn him only the minimum spanking. Ed focused his attention on the school’s “Three Strikes” rule. The rule was simple; violating any rule three times in the same semester earned you a “red slip”, which sentenced you to detention combined with a serious spanking. Ed’s plan was simple and safe; simply to accumulate three unexcused tardies within one semester.

The first tardy was the very next day. Every school day started with a 15- minute “home room” period. Any student late enough to entirely miss home room had to report to the school office for an admission slip. If the student had no excuse for being tardy, the school clerk also issued the student a yellow detention slip. Ed simply waited at home until his mother literally kicked him out of the house, and then dawdled on the way to school until he was sure to miss home room period. The plan worked, Ed was awarded with his very first “yellow slip”.

As required, Ed dutifully took his “yellow slip” home for his parents to sign. His parents lectured him, signed the slip and Ed served his detention the next day after school.

Two weeks later, Ed screwed up his courage and was tardy again. This time, he got his parent’s attention. They gave him a stern scolding and grounded him for a week before signing the slip. Again, Ed reported for detention the next day after school. This time he saw Miss Russell escort a girl out of the room. 30 minutes later, the two returned. The girl was red-faced, puffy-eyed, and obviously recently spanked. With a swelling in his groin, Ed clenched his butt cheeks and imagined being spanked by Miss Russell.

Ed waited a full three weeks before doing it again. His heart pounding fiercely, he reported to the school clerk. She checked her records in disbelief, “tut-tutted” a bit, and then issued Ed his “red slip” with instructions to get it signed and to report for detention tomorrow after school. Ed had finally earned his spanking. Tomorrow Ed had a “date” with Miss Russell, an appointment for a spanking.

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When Ed got home from school that afternoon, he was surprised that his mother already knew about his “red slip”. What Ed didn’t know, was that the Principal himself had called his mother. They had had a long talk about discipline in general, and the recent changes in Ed’s behavior in particular. Had he known that his mother had totally changed her mind about corporal punishment, and had phoned his father, Ed would truly have been alarmed.

“Go up to your room and start your homework” she said sternly “Stay there until we call you for supper”.

Later, Ed heard his father arrive from work, but he dutifully stayed in his room and concentrated on schoolwork.

Finally, they called him down for supper. Supper was a quiet affair. Nothing was said about Ed’s “red slip” until after desert. Finally, Ed’s father asked him how much more schoolwork he had to do. “About an hour sir” Ed replied.

“In that case, I want you in the living room at eight so we can deal with your misbehavior. Have your school stuff finished and packed up. I want you showered, in your pajamas, and all ready for bed.”

“Yes sir” Ed replied, and quickly disappeared into his room. Ed didn’t think his father’s orders terribly alarming. When grounded, he was required to wear his PJ’s in the home as a reminder, so Ed took this to mean that he was grounded again.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

At the appointed time, Ed came downstairs for his “talk” with his parents. He expected a scolding followed by announcement of a long grounding. He only had a small fear that his parents would forbid his school spanking, which would result in some alternative punishment; probably suspension. As it turned out, he had no reason to worry.

He found his parents in the living room, the shades drawn. He didn’t notice at first, but a bottle of aloe lotion was sitting on a table. On the same table was the “red slip”. He could see that his parents had written something on it.

His father started out reasonably enough by asking him what happened to make him tardy so many times. All Ed could manage was red-faced incoherent mumbling combined with vague apologies. Things went downhill from there. Ed endured a scolding, while waiting for the inevitable punishment announcement. Father finished by reminding Ed that he had been warned after his first tardy, and been grounded after his second tardy. “And now” he concluded, “we need another plan, since those two things didn’t work”.

At that, Ed’s father lapsed into a glum silence, leaving Ed suffering through a long, awkward pause. Finally, Father surprised Ed by giving him a long hug. Ed wasn’t the most observant boy, but he noticed that his father’s heart was beating furiously. It was then, that a suspicion started to form in the boy’s mind…

“Go give your mother a hug son, then we will get down to business.”

Puzzled, Ed obeyed. He hugged his mother and apologized for getting into trouble at school. “We need to be sure that you really are sorry Ed,” his mother replied, “so take off those pajama bottoms for me.”

Ed looked at his mother as if she had suddenly sprouted an extra head! His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He stood there, frozen before finally squawking “W…w…whaaaat?” Father answered, “You heard your mother. Drop those PJ bottoms and hand them over. You’re done with them for tonight.”

“But…but” Ed stammered, “I’m not wearing any underpants.”

“Great,” Mother said soothingly, “then they won’t have to come off. Don’t worry; we’ve seen your body before.”

With his head spinning, his mouth dry, and his heart pumping furiously, Ed reluctantly obeyed, pushing down his PJ bottoms, stepping out, and then placing them in his mother’s outstretched hand. She folded them neatly and placed them next to the lotion.

Although it’s true that Ed’s parents had seen every part of his body innumerable times, it’s also true that there were certain parts they hadn’t seen lately. When Mother saw the developments at Ed’s groin, she pictured the stained linens that had become a regular event, and recalled the principal’s parting words; “Your little boy is gone. He’s been replaced by a young man with very different needs and motivations. You may need to change how you discipline him, or you risk losing control.”

Even in his befuddled condition, Ed was smart enough to figure out what was coming next. He looked at his father, who pointed to the floor next to his right thigh. Eyes wide, mouth dry, Ed obediently walked towards his fate.

“I’m…I’m supposed to get spanked tomorrow…” Ed stuttered nervously.

“We know”, Father said firmly, “But that’s at school. Tonight it’s our turn.”

“But” Ed objected with perfect logic, “You’ll make my bottom sore for tomorrow’s spanking.”

“You should have thought of that sooner.” Father said. In a softer voice he explained; “We hoped to raise you without spanking you even once. Always before, logic and non-spanking punishments worked with you. But suddenly something’s changed so we’re forced to change too. Other things didn’t work, so I’ll try to make this spanking painful and embarrassing enough to do the job.”

With real regret he said “Sorry son” as he guided the boy into position across his lap.

For the first time in several years, the father contemplated his son’s bare bottom. Like many young teens, Ed was slim with coltishly long legs. The only part of his body that seemed to retain baby fat was his buttocks. Ed’s pure white bottom contrasted with his tanned body, making his bottom seem to blossom out. In short, Ed had a surprisingly spankable bottom for a teenage boy.

The father was new to spanking, but the process was hardly a mystery to him. He had been spanked regularly as a child, and had witnessed several spankings, so he was confident that he could deliver a credible punishment.

Ed’s head spun with a million emotions and fears. Naturally, he was embarrassed to be waist-down naked in front of his parents, and across his father’s lap. On the other hand, he was curious about what a spanking was really like. And there was the fear... Naturally, Ed was afraid of the pain, but he was more afraid of disgracing himself by acting like a baby.

The father patted and squeezed the unfamiliar territory of his son’s buttocks, taking their measure, feeling their resiliency. He was trying to “calibrate” how much strength to put into the first spanks.

The spanking started. The first dozen spanks were overly-tentative, and caused little reaction from Ed. The father “recalibrated” himself, and tried again, harder this time.

After those first few spanks, Ed began to relax. “I can take this” he thought. But that didn’t last long. The next salvo of spanks finally lit a bit of fire in Ed’s tush. In spite of himself, he squirmed and grunted a bit. Father noted Ed’s reaction and “recalibrated” his swing again, delivering ever harder spanks. Gradually Ed’s bottom became a study in motion, with his globes flattening and jiggling from the spanks and his hips moving in every possible direction in a futile effort to move his quickly-reddening bottom away from his father’s punishing hand. Then his legs started moving as if they had a mind of their own, kicking, spreading, bicycling, and digging his toes into the carpet.

His confidence quickly growing, Father tightened his grip on his son. Stealing a trick from his own father, he trapped both of Ed’s legs under one of his own before doggedly resuming his fatherly duty. Totally restrained and enduring this new flurry of spanks, Ed finally “lost it”. Before he knew what had happened, he was bawling, screeching, begging, and making improbable promises of eternal obedience.

Now feeling fully in control of the situation, father continued spreading spanks over the target area until he felt his son relax just a bit. At the same time, he noted a change in his cries. Somehow, he knew that Ed had finally surrendered himself to his punishment.

Finally, Father sensed that it was time to end the spanking. Keeping the crying boy firmly pinned, he stopped and inspected his work closely. He looked up at his wife with a question on his face. With teary eyes, Mother gave him a silent “thumbs up”.

“Are we getting through to you Ed?” he asked. The boy choked and fervently nodded his head. “OK then” the father replied, “Just a few more hard spanks on your sit spots and we will be done.”

Ed bawled “Noooooo.”

Alternating sides, Father landed four scorching spanks on each sit spot. Ed howled anew.

Moments later, Ed was back on his feet. His hands flew back to his bottom, but rubbing only made things worse. Ed’s face dripped fresh tears as he tried to dance away the sting.

Partially to comfort his son, and partly to stop the embarrassing penis-wagging dance, Father stood and hugged the sobbing boy, inviting him to “cry it out” on his shoulder. It took several minutes to calm him and dry his eyes. The boy’s eyes widened when Father ordered him across his mother’s lap. “She’s just going to put lotion on your bottom.” the father promised, “We’re done spanking for today.”

As Mother applied lotion to Ed’s livid bottom, the boy dripped his last few tears. Finally she helped him back on his feet and gave him a long hug and a kiss.

In a businesslike tone of voice, Father informed the boy that they still had “business”. Ed nodded soberly, knowing that his punishment was far from over. “First” Father said, we haven’t yet decided if you will be grounded. That decision depends on your attitude over the next couple of days.”

“I’ll be good Dad.” The boy promised soberly.

“Next,” Father continued, “there’s this ‘red slip’. He handed the form to Ed. “Read what we wrote on it where our signature is supposed to go.”

Wiping one rogue tear from his eye, the boy read out loud “Please see attached note.” “We haven’t written that note yet.” Father explained, “But we know what it’ll say. We’ll dictate it, but you get to write it.”

With that, they led the boy to the kitchen, where he found a pen and paper waiting on the kitchen table. They pointed him to a chair. With his tender and still-bare bottom planted on a hard dinette chair, the parents handed the boy the pen. “Use your best handwriting” Father commanded, “We want Miss Russell to be able to read every word.” Then he started dictating. With increasing horror, Ed had no choice but to write down every damning word. It felt like writing his own death warrant…

Dear Miss Russell:

We are sorry for the trouble that Ed has caused. We’ve tried to get him to tell us why he has been tardy so many times, but to no avail. He has plenty of time in the morning, and only a short walk to school. We must conclude that Ed got himself into trouble purposely.

When you see his bare bottom, you might notice that we have already spanked him. No doubt, that tender bottom will make the spanking you give him more painful for him. But please don’t reduce his punishment. On the contrary, we feel that Ed’s wanton disregard of school rules merits a maximum punishment. We suggest the paddle. If you leave marks on his bottom, that will be OK.

Please tell us immediately if you have any more issues with Ed.

Thank you;

Father picked up the completed letter and read every word before signing it. He handed it to Mother, who also signed it. She stapled the form and letter together, and then sealed them in an envelope with Miss Russell’s name on the outside.

Writing the letter forced Ed’s thoughts to tomorrow’s “date” with Miss Russell; suddenly it didn’t seem like such a great idea! How could he have been boneheaded enough to want a spanking? Despite his fantasies about getting spanked, he had found nothing sexy or manly about the reality of being spanked by his father. Unlike his friends who bragged they could “take it”, Ed felt completely disgraced. He had cried like a baby! What would Miss Russell think if he acted that way tomorrow?

The parents escorted the still bare-bottomed boy to his bedroom and tenderly put him to bed. They left him face-down, with a single sheet over his still-livid bottom.

Alone in the dark, Ed soon felt a familiar tingle in his groin. He reached down to manipulate the growing hardness. Somehow his burning bottom made his self-stimulation feel far more intense than ever before. Suddenly the fantasy was back, and (in his mind) so was Miss. Russell! Lying bare-bottomed across her silken thighs seemed like a wonderful dream! Suddenly, though very temporarily, tomorrow’s “date” seemed like a good idea again.

Continue to Part 4

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Detention with Corporal Punishment, Part 4

2010-10-28T21:21:00.000-04:00

Detention with Corporal Punishment; Part 4

“Tap tap tap” Miss Sara Russell’s shoes tapped purposely as she led Ed, the holder of today’s only “red slip”, down the hall to her office to receive his spanking. She made light small talk as they walked. Sara held the boy’s elbow with a gentle, almost accidental, touch; but the hold was no accident. At Ed’s slightest balk, her grip would turn to iron.

It was highly unlikely that Ed would balk. Sure, he was anxious about his imminent spanking, but his young mind was totally intoxicated by his nearness to Miss Russell. Shortly after detention had started, Miss Russell appeared next to his desk. Even though her perfume was faint, it seemed to overwhelm him. She had to tap him on the shoulder twice before he finally stood. Everyone in the detention room smirked when he clumsily dropped his books and dropped to retrieve them. The students looked at each other knowingly as she led him out.

It would be Ed’s second spanking in 24 hours, and only the second spanking of his life.

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The day hadn’t started out well for Ed. Worn out from his spanking last night, and depleted from his solitary bedtime activities, he had overslept. His mother woke him 15 minutes after his usual time. So he had to rush, which meant no time to manually relieve the pressure already gathering in his groin. To his consternation, his mother insisted on walking him to school to ensure that Ed and the envelope made it to school on time.

At the school entrance his face blushed crimson as his mother insisted on a hug and kiss. Leaving, she told him, “Take your punishment like a man, and learn from it.”

The day’s classes went by in a blur. Later, he couldn’t even remember his lunch. Finally school was over, and Ed was in the detention room handing the envelope to Miss. Russell. She took it without comment, pointing him to a desk. For a few minutes she busied herself gathering the signed slips and organizing the other students.

Finally, Ed saw her open the envelope and read the note. Her eyebrows popped up in surprise. She looked around to find Ed, and caught his eyes. Ed felt trapped in her gaze. He felt trapped in another way too. He had grown an erection that was there to stay.

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Miss. Russell escorted Ed into her office and sat him down. She came straight to the point. “You’re here to be spanked because you have accumulated three unexcused tardies this semester. Can you please explain how that happened?”

Of course, Ed couldn’t tell Miss Russell that he had done it purposely to be alone with her, and to lie across her thighs, and so she would spank his bare bottom. As a result, all Sara heard was the same incoherent drivel and vague apologies that he had given his parents the night before.

“That’s not helpful.” Sara said. “Do you know what’s in this letter”?

“Yes” Ed replied, “They made me write it.”

Sara smiled thinly in appreciation of the parent’s methods. “Well I agree with your parents, you seem to have been tardy on purpose.” Again, Ed couldn’t help his case. He could hardly admit that he fantasized about her spanking him.

Changing the subject slightly, Sara asked Ed if his bottom was sore from last night’s spanking. “It’s still a little tender” Ed replied honestly, “But now it doesn’t hurt much to sit down.”

“That means you have no serious bruising and we can proceed with today’s punishment” Sara explained briskly. “My job is to apply the punishment ordered by the Principal. I can’t reduce it just because your parents chose to spank you first.”

Although struggling to follow his talk with Miss Russell, Ed’s mind was clogged with notions only a teenage boy could truly understand. It awed Ed that he and Miss Russell were technically capable of making a baby together. Of course, that coupling was not only improbable, but professionally, legally, and socially impossible! But for Ed it was an intriguing thought. Also, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Miss Russell’s thighs. Finally! He would touch them! Even if it did involve getting spanked!

Moving the conversation along, Sara instructed Ed how to prepare for punishment; “You will go in my washroom, use the toilet if necessary, and then remove your shoes, pants, and underpants. Finally wrap a towel around your waist so that it opens in back. I expect you out in three minutes!”

With butterflies in his gut, Ed got up and walked to Miss. Russell’s little washroom. He tried to casually hide his erection, which had remained locked in place since it popped up in the detention room, but that didn’t fool Sara. Ed’s parents may have been stumped, but Sara correctly guessed Ed’s motivation for getting himself into trouble. It was her! Now what should she do about it?

Sara laid the two copies of the “red slip” in front of her. The Principal’s copy was signed and noted “#1”, specifying a “normal” hand spanking. A “#1” spanking was usual for a “three strikes” offense, so no surprise there. However, in Ed’s case, that didn’t square with the purposeful nature of Ed’s offenses or with the wishes of his parents. Something would have to be done.

In the washroom, Ed prepared himself. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his pants, and then doffed his underpants (while carefully pulling them out in front to accommodate his erection). The erection was a tremendous embarrassment. He knew how to make it disappear, but there wasn’t time for that. Fortunately he didn’t need to pee, since that would be difficult in his condition. Ed wrapped a towel around him as instructed. The starched material prickled against his penis. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Sara looked up at Ed. The bulge in the towel was painfully obvious, but she pretended to ignore it. “The Principal should see this letter.” She explained, “Face that corner and don’t move while I’m gone.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The Principal’s office was just next door. She found him at his desk buried in paperwork. She handed him the note, he read silently:

Dear Mrs. Russell:

When you see his bottom, you might notice that we have already spanked him. No doubt, that tender bottom will make the spanking you give him more painful for him, but please don’t reduce his punishment. On the contrary, we feel that Ed’s wanton disregard of school rules merits a maximum punishment. We suggest the paddle. If you leave marks on his bottom, that will be OK.

Please tell us immediately if you have any more issues with Ed.

Thank you;

Richard Mercer

Barbara Mercer

“Well”, the Principal said, “The School Clerk noticed that Ed didn’t seem to be hurrying or flustered, so she also thought he did it purposely. But with no other information and Ed’s perfect record, I gave him the minimum. But if you think different…”

“It’s more than that” Sara explained carefully, “He’s ahhh … errrr.” Her face colored. “Do you mean ‘turgid’?” The Principal asked. “Yes, yes that’s a good word.” Sara said with relief. “It appears that Ed has gone to lots of trouble to earn a spanking. I think his hormones are leading him into trouble.”

“We’ve seen this before,” the Principal said, “and we can handle it. “Give me my copy of the “red slip.” Sara handed it over. The Principal erased the “#1”, wrote “#3” in its place, then initialed the change. “We don’t want this problem again” he said, handing the form back to Sara, “So start that spanking with a ‘bang’ so he doesn’t get a moment’s pleasure.” Now it was official! Ed would get the paddle, the school’s maximum corporal punishment.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Back in Sara’s office, Ed was bummed. He had planned on receiving only one spanking; and that only a minimum one. He had already been spanked by his parents, plus Miss Russell was apparently talking the Principal into a more serious spanking than he had bargained for. Worse, Ed had dreamed of having private time with Miss Russell, but now he was in this corner all alone! The door opened and Miss Russell strode back in.

“Let’s get this over with.” She said briskly. “You seemed to want this, but you’ll soon change your mind. Significantly, she opened a drawer and extracted a paddle. Ed’s eyes got large. “Yes Ed,” She explained, “You did this purposely, so you get the maximum; a hard, thorough hand spanking, and then the paddle.” To his horror, Ed felt tears coursing down his cheeks.

Sara saw the boy’s consternation and softened a bit. “Don’t worry” she said, “Everybody reacts differently. ‘Taking your punishment like a man’ doesn’t mean not crying, it means taking responsibility for your misbehavior and cooperating with your punishment. I think you’ll do just fine. Besides, my office is soundproofed. Nobody will hear except me, and I won’t tell.”

Sara moved a chair to the middle of the room, sat down, and placed the paddle behind her. She looked Ed straight in the eyes. “Make all the noise you want” she instructed, “but for your own good, try to stay in position. That way, we will get done sooner. Understand?” His brain in a protective fog, the boy nodded.

Though still pretending to not notice the boy’s erection, she nevertheless spread her legs as she guided the boy across her lap so it could dangle free. She opened the towel, tucked the ends away, and raised his shirt tail. This efficient process left Ed bare from above his beltline to the top of his socks. As expected, Ed’s bottom was still pink from his father’s efforts, but only slightly marked. It would look far different in just a few minutes.

Sara adjusted Ed’s bottom to the perfect spot so she could deliver full-force smacks. Finally she grasped Ed’s wrist, holding it at his waistline. “You are being spanked because you broke school rules.” Sara said in a formal tone. “Repeat that back for me.” Ed croaked a response. “Keep that in mind,” she warned, “I will be asking again.”

“Ready?” Sara asked.

Ed bleated something, which Sara took as OK to proceed.

Normally Sara started with “warm-up” spanks, but she wanted Ed to hate this spanking from the very beginning, so with machine-like regularity she rained full-strength spanks on Ed’s unprotected bottom. Ed bellowed and bucked. She had planned to deliver 20 scorchers to the meatiest part of Ed’s bottom, but at number 18, Ed nearly fell off her lap. She stopped and ordered the bawling boy back into place. The boy half-stood, and obediently put himself back into position. With the towel no longer concealing anything, Sara could see that Ed’s erection was history.

With Ed back in position, Sara concentrated on his sit-spots and the virgin territory below. Using her peculiar spanking technique, she allowed Ed to move, squirm, and twist as she spanked. Each movement gave Sara new spanking opportunities. A twist might expose a hip or outer thigh, scissoring or spreading his legs might bring opportunities in the tender inner thighs. And so it went, with Ed bawling, begging, bellowing and making indescribable noises.

Again, Ed again managed to get out of position. As she readjusted his position, the towel, which was supposed to be trapped under him, slid off and fell unnoticed to the floor.

Since she had been interrupted anyhow, Sara took the opportunity to order Ed to open his legs so she could spank his tender inner thighs. This anatomical view made her uncomfortable, but spanked inner thighs were part of a #2 or #3 spanking. Though not a favorite part of Sara’s job, she did this well and thoroughly, just as she did everything else. She could tell from Ed’s anguished reaction that this was an effective part of the punishment.

Sara stopped to inspect her work. It was good, but not perfect. She “touched up” a couple spots with a few last spanks. Now it was time for the paddle.

“OK Ed”, she said, “We’re half done. Remind me why you are being punished”

She had to repeat the question, but finally Ed choked, sniffed, and managed to croak the answer, “Because I broke school rules”.

“Yes,” Sara responded, “Normally we would be done now, but you did this purposely, so now you get the paddle.” She reached behind her for the paddle.

The paddle was hairbrush-size, but thinner and lighter. It was perfectly sized to sting like a bee, but not do damage. Among the students, its reputation had grown. Few students had actually seen it, so most thought it was a huge, fearsome thing. Sara did nothing to clear up that misconception! The few students who had actually felt it were held in special awe. Right now, it was fame that Ed would gladly do without!

She raised the paddle, the room filled with a “popping” sound. Ed’s bottom exploded in a new wave of pain. When he finally filled his lungs, he let out an impressive screech, totally drowning out the sound of the paddle. Holding Ed tight, Sara rapidly peppered his buttocks, turning them far redder than before. She considered Ed’s buttocks “done” when they assumed a mottled look, indicating they were just short of bruising. Then, she moved down to the “sit spots”. She worked there nearly a full minute, leaving twin marks for Ed to feel whenever he sat for the next few days. (The letter said “marks were OK”, so Sara obliged) Sara finished with a fusillade of spanks to the back of Ed’s legs. Ed unashamedly bawled like a baby.

Using her usual post-spanking technique, Sara restrained the wailing boy in place with a single hand to his upper back, but allowed him to rub his bottom. She called this “COL”, short for “crying over lap” time. At first the boy seemed inconsolable, and not coordinated enough to stand, so she knew her lap was the safest place.

Then she noticed the missing towel. Craning her neck, she finally located it under her chair, just beyond her reach. Finally she got Ed to reach and hand it to her.

She spread the towel across his bottom, and then urged the boy to his feet. As he stood, she efficiently wrapped the towel around his waist to preserve his modesty. Seeing the distraught and hurting boy, she had an almost irrestable urge to hug him, but suspecting his adolescent crush on her, she avoided anything he could mistake for affection.

Holding his arm, she looked in his eyes. “Tell me why you just got spanked” she ordered.

“B…b…because I purposely broke school rules” the boy managed.

“That’s right!” she said. “Sitting will hurt for a few days. When you feel that pain, remember why you were spanked; OK?” The boy nodded. “Will we ever need to do this again?” she asked.

“No Ma’am” the boy said fervently. “I never want to be spanked again!”

“Great.” She said, “Then we haven’t wasted a spanking.” With that, she led the boy to the washroom, instructed him to dress himself, and closed the door behind him.

Inside, he dropped the towel and turned to view the impressive sight of his bottom in the mirror. Then he gingerly pulled his underpants over his bottom, and shakily donned his pants. Finally, he delicately sat on the toilet to don his shoes.

The boy emerged from the washroom. Showing a bit of pity, Sara took him back in and washed the tears off of his face. Judging her job to be done, she escorted him back to the detention room.

As they entered, the other students gave Ed looks that varied from amusement, to curiosity, to pity. Seeing the disturbance, Sara said “Would anyone else like to visit my office?” Simultaneously, every set of eyes snapped back down to their work.

The hard seat was torture on Ed’s bottom until Sara finally dismissed the detention session. As everyone filed out of the room, Sara stopped Ed. “I want to make sure you have a ride home,” she explained. Outside, they found Ed’s parent’s car waiting. She led him to the car.

“I paddled Ed as you recommended,” Sara told Ed’s parents. “He took his punishment like a man and has a good attitude. We shouldn’t have any more trouble from him; …right Ed?”

Ed nodded emphatically.

The parents thanked Sara as Ed gingerly eased himself into the back seat. She waved and they were gone. Ed endured a short lecture on the way home, and then a final embarrassing pants-off session in the living room so mother could apply lotion to his bottom. Finally, the incident seemed to be over.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

That turned out to be Ed’s last spanking at school, though he earned a few more at home before his parents finally decided he was too old for such things. As teen boys do, Ed quickly moved on from his childish crush on Sara.

Unlike his classmate Olivia, Ed’s prurient interest in spanking turned out to be merely a brief side trip in his life’s journey towards a destination of vanilla sexual maturity. It’s possible that Sara actually “cured” Ed with that moderately severe spanking, but more likely he just wasn’t wired to be a spanko.

We will never know for sure.

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