Caught Cheating (F/m, M/m) NEW!

GuySpencer Home Page
© Guyspencer 2010

NOTE: This story starts from a kernel of truth. Something like this incident actually happened to the writer. Also, the places and the characters are quite real (albeit nameless). That said, the writer has not allowed reality to get in the way of a good spanking story. For that reason, this should be considered fiction. This story contains no sex, but does involve the spanking of a minor in a manner that might actually have happened in the 50’s and 60’s in the United States. As always, this is fiction, not parenting advice.


“Caught Cheating”

I am an honest boy and I really didn’t mean for it to happen.

My seat was at the very front and center of my class. On my right sat Ritchie, who was my best friend, my neighbor, and my study partner. We were both sitting directly in front of our teacher, so when he looked up at the class, he tended to see us first. Momentarily baffled by a math problem and just like we both did dozens of times each day, I looked over at Ritchie’s paper to compare notes. Bad idea! I had forgotten that we were in the middle if a math test.

Since I really hadn’t meant to cheat and this was actually a momentary lapse, I hadn’t bothered to notice that Mr. Haling, our teacher, was staring right at me the whole time. Naturally, from Mr. Haling’s point of view, he had just witnessed a case of flagrant cheating. He quietly hissed for me to bring him my paper. As soon as I was in range, he snatched my test paper from my hand and wrote a big “zero” at the top. I was screwed!

Mr. Haling is usually a reasonable guy, and I was quite taken aback by his anger. Since, he had just seen me cheat on a test with his own eyes; he gave me no chance to explain myself. Red-faced, but still in that whispery, hissing voice, he said a few words about what he “would never tolerate in his class” and dashed off a quick note. He folded the note, sealed it in an envelope, and told me to deliver it immediately “to the office.”

Our school’s administrative office featured a long counter that was presided over by the school secretary. Behind the counter was her desk, which guarded the doors that led to the private offices of the Principal and her Assistant. Two minutes after being exiled from my class, a tearful me was standing across the counter from the school secretary, a plain lady who always had her hair in a bun, and often stored pencils in her hair. She read the note, making little “tut-tut” sounds and shaking her head disapprovingly. The next thing I knew, she was directing me to come around to her side of the counter. All business, she sat me down in a chair just outside the Principal’s door and demanded my shoes. (I suppose that was standard procedure to be sure that I didn’t bolt) She disappeared into the Principal’s office with my shoes and the note, returning moments later empty handed. Ignoring me for the moment, she went to a file cabinet, searched through two different drawers and finally extracted a manila file folder. The folder featured my name on the side, printed in neat block letters. My stomach did a sad flip. Whatever happened next was going to soil my “permanent record” forever and would probably hurt like hell.

The secretary delivered my file to the Principal and then sat at her desk, seeming to forget about me. I sat there numb. Minutes earlier, I had been a normal student sitting happily in class next to my best friend. Now suddenly I was an outcast, a criminal in the eyes of the school.

It seemed like hours, but probably it was minutes, when I heard the Principal call my name. Timidly, I stood and padded into her office.

The conversation that followed is something I still replay in my mind. I could have stood up for myself so much better! Sadly, life had not yet prepared me to be a lawyer on my own behalf. Perhaps if I had been sophisticated enough to know the phrase “mental lapse” and had used it to describe what really happened. Perhaps if I had thought to point out that what my teacher described as “flagrant” was actually a complete lack of stealth since I had no conscious intent to cheat. Heck, I didn’t even point out what should have already been obvious to her; I had a totally clean record.

What I actually said (well, actually blubbered) to the Principal was something like, “I am so sorry, Mrs. K, I didn’t mean to cheat.” Naturally, the lady took my poorly chosen words as a complete confession! Her subsequent lecture easily succeeded in convincing me that I was totally guilty. Even today, as an adult, I remain conflicted; am I guilty or innocent? I honestly don’t remember ever intending to cheat, but clearly I was guilty of taking more than a casual glance at Ritchie’s paper in the middle of that math test.

Judging from the Principal’s lecture, cheating “erodes the very educational foundations of our school” and it was something that she must “nip in the bud”. I had heard my parents use that “nip in the bud” phrase before, and I knew exactly what it meant; it meant that I was going to get a spanking! With my knees shaking, I waited for the lecture to end. Finally it did, with an admonition about how I “should be ashamed of myself”, and how my parents and classmates and teachers “would be ashamed of me”.

As I stood there totally immersed in shame, the Principal stood, ordered me to “not move a muscle” until she returned, and then glided imperiously out of her office.

After the first two minutes of waiting, the room seemed to sway and spin as I stood in the middle of the small office and concentrated on literally “not moving a muscle”. Finally I heard the sounds of feet walking back into the office. I quickly realized that it was both the Principal and the secretary. They talked between themselves in low voices as they prepared the room for my correction. The secretary placed a wooden paddle on the desk in front of me, blinds were lowered, the desk was cleared, and chairs were noisily moved. Finally the Principal seemed to notice me again.

Speaking in firm tones, she informed me that I would be getting the school’s maximum allowed punishment “and then some”. Although this was the first time I had been paddled at this school, I knew that six strokes with that nasty weapon was the most that school regulations allowed. What could she mean by “and then some”? This had turned into my worst nightmare!

Gently, almost kindly, the Principal led me to her desk and showed me the position I would be expected to assume and hold for my punishment. She solemnly warned me not to reach back; emphasizing the damage the paddle could do to an errant hand. To help control my hands, I was to firmly grip the far edge of the desk

Then, just as I thought that my ordeal was about to start, things suddenly got worse! You are wearing underwear right?” the lady asked. Puzzled, I managed to stutter an answer; “Un…un…underpants Maam, but no undershirt”. “Good” she said, “I want to be sure that you remain decent, after all, there are ladies in the room.” Just as I was trying to make sense of that statement, she dropped a bombshell: “You may lower your britches to your knees.” I gaped at the lady as if a bird had just flown out of her mouth! I had never heard of anyone being required to remove clothing for a paddling and I suspected that it was not normally allowed.

“Do it now” she insisted firmly. Having no negotiating position, and being in complete shock, I meekly complied, and then I complied with her next order by putting myself into position across her desk.

Next I felt her restraining hand press firmly on my back, and I felt the pressure of the paddle rubbing directly on the back of my underpants. Then suddenly the paddle was gone! I took a quick nervous breath, which was knocked out of me by the force of the first blow. I howled and bucked, but her hand kept me firmly in place. “It’s OK to cry” she said, “but try to stay in position for your punishment”. I did my best, really I did! By the third swat, I was crying loudly and unashamedly. I was vaguely aware that my pants had fallen all the way to my ankles. After the fourth swat, my knees gave way and I started to slip to the floor. I desperately tried to get back into position but my pants hobbled my feet and I could not seem to get them back under me.

The Principal quickly laid down the paddle and assisted me back into position. I don’t remember what she said, but her words were firm yet not terribly reassuring. With me back in position, she quickly applied the last two swats, and they were easily the hardest of all! I am afraid that I screamed, and I know that I was a complete mess for several minutes.

When I came back to my senses, the secretary had already signed the “witness” line on the “Discipline Record” form in my permanent file and left the room. I don’t remember if I pulled my own pants up or if the Principal did it for me, but somehow I was fully dressed again.

As my sobs finally decayed to mere sniffles, the Principal gave me a little pep talk about “all is now forgiven” and how I now had a chance to “make a new beginning”. Of course, all was definitely NOT forgiven. Not only was my record permanently smudged, I still had my parents to deal with.

The rest of the school day went as well as could be expected. Since there was only one hour of school left, the Principal allowed me to stay with the school nurse, and even sent a messenger for my books so I wouldn’t have to face my class. Soon the last bell rang and I was free to walk home.

Ashamed, I hung behind the main crowd all the way home, purposely avoiding anyone I knew, especially Ritchie. All too soon, I was home. As usual, I walked through the side door, directly into the kitchen, but today I also walked directly into the hard gaze of my mother. Looking at her face, I knew immediately that she already knew everything. “How could you?” she asked, “I can’t believe that a child of mine could stoop to cheating in class.” Immediately, I had new tears dripping from my cheeks.

By now, I was quite convinced that I was guilty as sin and besides, just getting paddled at school served as prima facie proof to my parents that I was guilty of some serious crime. My parent’s rule was clear; any punishment earned at school will be repeated much worse at home!

Mother explained that the Principal had called before my punishment to tell her what had I had done, and to request permission to lower my pants for my paddling. That permission had been quickly granted! This explained my five-minute wait alone in the Principal’s office. Further, Mom had already called Dad at work, and she expected him home early to “deal with me”. She pointed me to the nearest empty corner to await justice.

Justice was not long in coming. I was only in the corner for a few minutes when I heard the sound of the family car pulling into the drive. I heard my father walk into the room, noisily kiss my mother, and then I felt a presence next to me and felt a comforting arm around my shoulder. “I love you son but cheating in school is bad business, we are going to have to nip this in the bud right now”. It was the second time that day that I had heard “nip in the bud”. Clearly, the outlook for my bottom was grim.

Father and Mother left the room for a private chat, and then returned together. Moments later, we were all seated around the dinette table and we were having “the talk”. Naturally, both of my parents took turns soundly scolding and shaming me for cheating. Finally “the talk” seemed to wind down and my parents were just looking at me appraisingly. Finally Daddy spoke. “You remember the rule about getting punished at school right?” My still-sore buttocks cringed as I gave the required answer; “I…I get it worse at home?”

“Yes son,” he confirmed, “you get it much worse at home.”

His hands moved under the table for a moment, and then I heard a strangely familiar “snicking” sound. Looking me straight in the eye, Daddy placed his belt on the table. Tears squirted and my head spun as the implication immediately struck home; I was not about to be merely spanked. Instead of a spanking, I was about to get my second whipping ever. I put my head down on the table and sobbed. My father patiently waited a couple of minutes for me to regain control and then explained; “The Principal thought that this was serious enough to give you the most severe punishment in her “toolbox”, so as your parent I feel that I must support her by doing the same thing, and a whipping is this family’s most severe punishment…understand?” Miserably, I nodded my understanding (if not agreement).

Just then, Mother touched my father’s arm and gently reminded him, “what about his bottom? Is it in any shape to take a whipping today after already getting paddled over his underpants?” Daddy looked startled and suddenly snapped his fingers, “Thanks for thinking about that. I guess we will just have to check.”

I immediately knew what would be required. Moments later, I was blushingly lowering my trousers and underpants so my parents could inspect the damage to my bottom. My father whistled; “Wow, that really looks like a professional job! It is still quite red but she hardly caused any bruising at all. Does it still hurt son?”

“A little” I admitted. At this point I had very mixed emotions. I was really afraid of that belt waiting for me on the table, and any delay would undeniably be a temporary relief…but then waiting for my whipping would be hell!

My father pronounced judgment: “Well, you surely won’t need a warm-up spanking, but with that unbruised bottom I don’t see why a good whipping would cause you any problems.” Except for a quiet sniffle, I accepted my sentence stoically and pulled my pants back into place. He took me by the shoulders and looked straight into my eyes, “You are getting bigger now. Can we go somewhere private and do this ‘man-to-man’? …Or would you feel better having your mother in the room when it happens?” I knew that I would have to strip naked for my whipping, so the choice was easy: “Man-to-man please sir” I managed to say. Still looking in my eyes for any sign of weakness, he made himself very clear; “It is going to hurt like hell. If we are going to do it man-to-man I am going to insist on your best cooperation”. I looked at him unblinkingly, “I will do my best Daddy, honest!” My father held me for a long moment. Finally he asked, “Should we get it over with right now? Before supper?” I gulped and nodded. Suddenly unable to keep my stare, I looked down, but unfortunately found myself staring right at the belt that was shortly to be the instrument of my correction. Daddy followed my gaze, picked up the belt, and offered it to me. I flinched back, but then recovered and gingerly accepted the feared weapon.

“Your room or mine?” Daddy asked without irony. I thought quickly, I didn’t want Ritchey to hear the evidence of my disgrace, and my parent’s room was on the opposite side of the house from Ritchey’s house. “Y…y…your room sir,” I stammered. “OK” he said, “Hug your mom, use the bathroom, and then take the belt to our bedroom and get yourself ready for your punishment. You have been whipped one time before, so surely you remember that I will expect to find you naked.” I shivered unhappily at the thought and finally managed to say, “Yes sir”.

With the belt still in my hand, I hugged my mother and mumbled yet another apology. With tears in her eyes she told me, “You need this punishment, so please learn from it so we won’t have to repeat it. I know Daddy hates to spank you, but I also know that he will do a very good job on you. Go and get it over with so we can forgive you and get your life back to normal”.

Five minutes later, I had folded my clothes in a neat pile and placed them on the vanity table next to my parent’s bed. Those white underpants that I had so reluctantly displayed to the Principal now topped the pile. I was sitting naked on my parent’s bed, listening hard for the footsteps I knew would be coming soon. Daddy’s belt was waiting in my lap and I was painfully aware that there was nothing between my skin and that nasty strip of leather. My father had been wearing that same belt to work for as long as I could remember. It was about 1.5 inches wide, made of supple leather, and kept well oiled. I remembered well from the only other time that my daddy had whipped me with it; it hurt like fire. I knew that in moments I would be crying and screaming my way through a whipping that promised to dwarf that previous one.

Sooner than I really wanted, the door opened and Daddy was there. I was trying to be brave, but as usual, my tears betrayed me. I stood and offered him his belt. Daddy gave me a quick hug, and then firmly turned me around to face the bed. He positioned me carefully on the edge of the bed with a rolled-up pillow under my hips to raise my bottom to receive the belt, and thoughtfully allowed me to bury my face in another to muffle the shameful noises I would soon be uttering. Daddy instructed me to wrap my arms around the pillow and clasp my hands together to keep from reaching back.

There isn’t much to say about the actual whipping, except that it was pure hell and it seemed to last forever. I felt leather tap my bottom a couple of times as Daddy got the range. After those taps, he must have started off with a roundhouse swing because the pain of that first swat was astounding. The ones after that were worse. I know that I totally "lost it" after the first swat.

Daddy says that I took it bravely, but that is not the way I remember it. I screamed, I howled, I begged, and I made all kinds of shameful noises. Several times Daddy had to stop when I got out of position. Each time he patiently repositioned me, and each time I resolved anew to hold my bare bottom in place for that terrible belt’s repeated visits. The very worst was when Daddy aimed low and hit places that hadn’t been previously prepared by the Principal’s paddle.

As always, Daddy was methodical, conscientious, and thorough in discharging his fatherly duties. When it was finally over, my poor bottom was crisscrossed with angry stripes and speckled by numerous little bruises that exactly matched the tip of Daddy’s belt. The damage began just below my waist and extended halfway down the backs of my upper legs. His duty done, Daddy dropped the belt and Mommy appeared as if by magic. I needed her! Suddenly it didn’t matter that she was seeing me naked as a jaybird. I don’t know how long it took, but finally they managed to slow down my bawling, and I became aware that both of my parents were holding me. Finally, Mommy laid me facedown on the bed and began to apply a soothing salve to my bottom. Daddy hovered until Mommy sent him to find me a pair of pajamas to cover my nakedness.

At last I was allowed to retreat to my own room while my parents prepared supper. When they called me down to eat, no reference was made to my crime and punishment, except I found a pillow sitting on my dinette chair to pad my sore bottom. Dinner was a quiet affair, but my parents took pains to put me at ease and to welcome me back into their good graces.

Back at school, I was the talk of my class for a few days. It didn’t help that there was no way I could hide my marked bottom in the boy’s locker room at gym class. I thought that my disgrace would last forever, but it was mostly forgotten in a week’s time, replaced by other events at the busy school. I am sure that I learned some kind of a lesson from getting into the worst trouble of my school years, but looking back, I am still not sure what it was supposed to be.

GuySpencer Home Page

8 PM (M/f F/m M/m) NEW!

GuySpencer Home Page
© Guyspencer 2010

Introduction: I am a child of the 40's and 50's, and this story is set in that time. Imagine yourself in a working-class neighborhood in a southeastern small town in early September. The house lots are small and the streets are narrow by today's standards. Air conditioning is still something found only in downtown department stores, so evening finds most windows and doors wide open. Sounds travel easily from house-to-house and house-to-neighbor's yard. Television is not yet common and much more evening and leisure time was spent in the relative cool outside the house, the parents lounging on porches and patios and the children playing. On a still evening, the sounds of a "private" parental spanking could carry the distance of several homes. In that respect, we enjoyed little privacy.

Societal attitudes towards spanking were quite different then. Firm corporal punishment tended to automatically be considered a sign of good parenting. Given that attitude, and unlike today, there was little reason for a parent to be circumspect about such matters. 

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story written around a real-life historical setting involving the spanking of teenage children. The writer does not advocate the spanking of children and does not wish to trigger or participate in conversation about it. If you find this subject disturbing, this may not be the story for you. This story is not suitable for Minors.

Prologue: They were a nice, loving family in a nice home in a nice neighborhood of a nice American small town. The father was a respected professional, well-known in this small Virginia town in the 1950's. The mother had a college education, but as was common for the times, chose to remain a housewife. The two children, Bob and Jan, were bright, well-adjusted, high-spirited, and entirely normal. In the future, Bob would become a local high-school football legend and then live an obscure life; Jan would follow her mother's tracks to college and a good marriage.

This is a spanking story, so we know right away that this was a STRICT family, but not excessively strict given the societal norms of 1950's small-town southern America. Like virtually all of their friends, both Jan and Bob grew up getting regular butt-warmings from their parents. The teens were aware that their mother's bottom also was not immune from a trip over their father's lap, but, like their sex life, the parents kept that aspect of family life strictly to themselves, behind the master bedroom door. Again, given the times and the locale, none of this was seen as unusual. Although modesty prevailed in the home, Bob and Jan normally witnessed each other's spankings. In spite of the embarrassment, the parents felt that it was kinder for both kids to "share the lesson" so they would ultimately need fewer spankings. Since spankings were usually on the bare bottom, both children grew up knowing what each other's bodies looked like and saw this as no big deal. As the children matured, and better learned how to live within the rules of the house, their spankings grew less and less frequent, but given the increasing responsibility that goes with increasing age, the possibility increased that the spankings they DID receive could be quite severe by today's standards. For this reason, the father gradually became the sole dispenser of corporal punishment for the house.

A rather unusual procedure gradually evolved in this home that effectively made the children directly responsible for their own behavior; when they broke a rule of the house, they were expected to go to their parents, confess, and request the appropriate punishment. Because there is a normal human tendency to delay punishment, there evolved a specific time for such confessions. It was 8 PM every day.  It is not as if they held a family court; at 8 PM the miscreant simply found the father wherever he happened to be and asked for an appropriate punishment. If the "appropriate" punishment happened to be a spanking, it was invariably given in the middle of the living room, OTK, with the father seated on the traditional straight-back chair. Depending on the seriousness or repetition of the infraction, spankings were delivered with the hand, hairbrush, and on rare occasions for the most serious offenses, with a belt.

"Cheating" on this system was risky indeed. If one of the teens misbehaved and did not request punishment the next time the clock reached 8 PM, then the punishment was automatically increased to a hard strapping. Additionally, after a few days of healing, there would be a second, identical strapping for "not telling the truth". As it turned out, only Bob was ever careless enough to ever get caught testing this system; the resulting punishments, witnessed by Jan as per the usual family custom, were sufficient to convince both of the siblings that honesty was truly the best policy. In fact, they learned it was best to report the slightest, most theoretical infractions and throw themselves on the very reasonable, loving mercy of their parents so they could never be accused of attempting to avoid punishment.

CHAPTER 1; Jan:
Strangely, this family culture of self-policing led to an unusual atmosphere of domestic tranquility. Arguments and parental commiseration were rarely necessary. Perhaps a specific example would help to explain how this is: At the end of her sophomore school year, Jan, the oldest child, was granted very limited group dating privileges coupled with a strict 10 PM curfew. Twice previously, she had lost track of time and returned home less than an hour late. The first time earned her a hand spanking (at 8 PM the next evening), but the second time resulted in a vigorous session with the hairbrush that all involved thought would be quite sufficient to calibrate her internal homing mechanism. Given her past performance, the parents were not altogether alarmed when Jan failed to return at 10 PM on her last outing of the summer. Sure enough, Jan appeared, flying through the door at 10:45 very upset with herself for again being late. In many families this would have resulted in an ugly scene, but these parents simply welcomed her with a hug, calmed her down, and then all went gratefully to bed.

The following day, without being told, Jan stayed home and contemplated her pending punishment. Mindful that the upcoming punishment was intended as much as a lesson for himself as for Jan, Bob stayed close all day so he could lend moral support to his older sister. The entire house seemed extra quiet, yet a supreme calm prevailed. Jan ate a light lunch, but did not show up for supper. At 8 PM, both parents were waiting expectantly in the living room when Jan tearfully entered the room with her brother solicitously at her elbow. She stood directly in front of her father and said "I am so sorry I broke my curfew last night, I have no excuse; will you please punish me?" (It should be said here that begging for mercy and offering vague excuses were specifically not allowed, one point of this procedure was to train the children to take responsibility for their actions) "What punishment do you expect?" the father asked mildly. She sobbed deeply and drew her hand from behind her back, showing him the belt folded in her hand. "I...I...I...think I need to be spanked real hard with this" she managed to choke out. "Yes" the father said, "that was my idea also, I love you very much but I think my job tonight is clear". "Put the spanking chair in place so I can give you a good warm up spanking and I guess you know how to arrange your clothing". Bob went for the chair, but father stopped him, "I'm glad you want to help your sister, but this is Jan's punishment". Mechanically, she went to the edge of the room, retrieved the waiting chair and placed it exactly in the center of the living room, facing the couch where her parents were seated. Mother jumped up, closed the windows and pulled the curtains, what was about to happen was only for the family to see and hear.

Father sat down in the chair and looked at Jan expectantly. Jan turned for her brother to unzip the back of her dress; she had to remind him to undo the little metal hook at the top. She reached down for the hem of her dress, pulled it up over her head, and handed it to her mother to fold up. (Her mother took the opportunity to ask her quietly if she needed to go to the bathroom, Jan blushed prettily and said that she had already thought of that.) Next, Jan unhooked and stepped out of her slip, which Mother also neatly folded. Mother and Bob took their places on the couch, scant feet from the spanking that was about to take place. Turning her back on her brother to preserve her modesty for a few more seconds, Jan reached for the thin elastic band at her tiny waist. The elastic strained briefly as it stretched past the swell of her thighs and buttocks. Bending over gracefully, she pushed the panties down to her bare ankles and stepped out of them, (inadvertently giving her flustered brother a close-up view that most of the local males would have happily crawled many miles in the hot sun to see). The panties lay forgotten in a tiny pink heap on the floor. In this familial setting, Jan did not seem compelled to cover her mound, her mind was apparently less involved with her modesty and more involved with what was about to happen to her bottom. Already barefoot and clad only in her training bra, a tearful Jan forced herself to look directly at her father, who patted his lap meaningfully. Making a sound that was a cross between a groan and a deep sob; Jan walked to her father's right side and draped her nearly nude body over his lap, assuming the traditional position for her lesson in responsibility. "Tell us exactly why you are being punished" Father commanded. "Because I disobeyed you and Mom by being late, even though you have punished me twice before for doing the same thing and I promised to never do it again" she said, (a very satisfactory speech, delivered all in one breath, that she had obviously mentally rehearsed). "That is exactly right" Father said, "I am going to give you a very good warm-up spanking to get your bottom bright red and ready for the belt." He then proceeded with his customary pre-spanking speech; "You may make any noise you need to, but try not to fight me. Everyone in this room loves you very much, so let's do a real good job for you and get this unpleasant business over. Please accept this punishment, and learn from it so we never have to go through this again. Now I want you to keep your legs wide apart for this part of your punishment so I can reach everywhere you are supposed to get spanked. Hold on to the chair legs and don't let go!"

The spanking proceeded exactly according to script. Father first expertly reddened Jan's perfectly-formed buttcheeks without missing the smallest spot. As usual, Jan resolved to lay still and take her punishment quietly; and as usual, she was not able to manage that feat for long. As the spanks gradually got harder and harder and the sting began to build to intolerable levels, her butt gradually started moving from side-to-side on it own volition in a futile, mindless attempt to avoid the spanks. Her initial silence gave way to sobs, which gave way to begging and improbable promises of future obedience, which gave way to pure incoherence. Her long legs easily reached the floor, and as she lost control her toes dug into the carpet and her feet did a dance that added a vertical dimension to the increasingly energetic movement of her bottom. This excessive bare-butt-wriggling caused both of the teen siblings physical pain; Jan because her father had to repeat spanks as he repeatedly missed some of the less-red spots and Bob because the view triggered a massive and unwelcome erection straining against his briefs and jeans. Bob flushed guiltily as he squirmed in pain, held prisoner by his own hormones. (30 years later, he would remember this as the moment he started down the road to becoming a spanko.) In spite of her resolution, Jan's hands came off of the chair legs and moved back to defend her bottom. The left hand encountered her father's torso and was not a factor, but her right hand almost made it to her bottom before her father deftly caught her wrist and gently trapped it in the small of her back. Two times, Jan managed to stop the spanking briefly when she bent her knees, covering her butt with her legs. Both times her father harshly ordered her back into position.

Finally, with Jan's buttocks a satisfactorily even shade of bright red, Father turned his attentions down to her waiting legs and thighs. As he was planning on limiting the coming strapping to Jan's buttocks, Father gave Jan's legs, outer thighs, and inner thighs special attention. "Open your legs wider and keep them there!" he ordered. As he spanked her inner thighs; she howled in protest. When her "warm up" spanking was finally over, her bottom was a bright red and her legs and thighs even more so, with the hint of a few future bruises. He finished the spanking by sliding her far out on his lap so he could land a last few spanks on the area of her left thigh that had been protected by his waist.

He allowed the chastised girl up off of his lap, but would give her no time to dance or rub her bottom, thinking it kinder to get her punishment over quickly. He ordered her over the arm of an overstuffed chair for the balance of her punishment. Blubbering and stammering and weak-kneed, she stumbled into the proper position. Her mother came to hold her arms in place as Father picked up the belt and moved to her left side purposely. Father had announced no particular number of strokes because he was not terribly experienced with the belt and wanted the flexibility to simply do a good job. He started the whipping, raising his belt-wielding hand high. Five times the belt whistled down on her right buttock in an even, relentless tempo, five times the end curled around to make an angry mark on her right thigh and five times she wailed in protest. With firm pressure, Mother kept Jan's torso in place on the chair, though her legs danced somewhat against the floor. Father moved to her left side and changed hands. Five times more the belt fell; these left-handed strokes painted marks on her left cheek that were not quite as neatly placed as the five on the right, but were otherwise satisfactory. Her wails morphed into shrieks. Again he moved to the left side and placed five more strokes significantly harder than the previous strokes, but this time landing evenly across both mounds. Jan reacted with even greater vigor to the whistling, snapping belt, but Mother managed to hold her in place. After waiting a moment for her movements to decrease, Father again changed sides and delivered five more strokes, again aimed to fall across both buttocks, but trending significantly lower on her rump than the previous five; she roared and bucked all five times.

Now Father turned around and backed up beside Jan so that he was looking straight down at her stripped butt and her nervously-prancing feet. After a dramatic pause, he brought the belt straight down in a vertical stroke intended to cut across all of the other belt marks on the fullest part of her right asscheek. Jan must have flinched to the right, because rather than landing on the center of her cheek as planned, the belt landed directly on the center of her butt-crack, with the tip curling up into a private region that neither parent would purposely target. Sorry for this accident, Father would have ended the strapping then and there, (he was nearly done anyhow) but Jan roared with pain and managed to break loose from her mother's hold. She stood in front of the chair dancing, rubbing, and howling. Not wanting to allow Jan to end her punishment by getting out of position, both parents insisted that Jan bend back over the chair and she was given one more vertical welt on each buttock as a more fitting end to her strapping.

After a moment, a much smarter and very well-chastised girl was allowed up off of the chair and on to her feet. She threw herself into in father's arms sobbing and blubbering incoherent apologies. Unmindful of her state of undress, her father held her tight and long with Mother joining the hug and Bob hovering protectively at his sister's shoulder. Mother led the still-undressed girl to her bedroom, forgetting her clothing.

Although this whole process had seemed to the family to take forever, by 8:30 a thoroughly-spanked and now forgiven Jan was lying on her bed gently sobbing into her pillow while her parents applied an icepack and then lotion to her well-chastised bottom. (Meanwhile; Bob was in his bathroom, furtively risking repetitive-motion injury. In his hormone-fueled fantasy, his sister's twitching, bucking red bottom had somehow ended up on his girlfriend, Cindy's body.) For perhaps the last time in her life, Jan's parents tucked her into bed, kissed her goodnight, and turned out the lights as if she were still their little girl.

Life quickly returned to normal in the household. The following morning, a Sunday, Jan ate breakfast with her family as usual. Jan was moving somewhat stiffly, and sitting down very carefully, but otherwise all was fine. No matter how severe the punishment, when it was over, it was truly over and there seemed to be no residual hard feelings. If anything, the days after a spanking seemed to foster a climate of relief and renewed family tranquility.

Monday morning brought the start of the new school year. Jan excitedly took her place in the junior class, and Bob enrolled in the same high school as a freshman. For the first week of class, Jan was reminded of her painful lesson every time she sat in one of the hard school desks. She was especially glad that she did not have gym that semester, because everyone would have known that she had been recently spanked. Over the following two weeks, her pain and the belt-marks gradually faded, but the lesson did not; Jan was known for her punctuality for the rest of her life.


CHAPTER 2; Bob:  It was nearly six weeks before one of the two siblings again had To seek out Father at 8 PM, and this time the culprit was Bob. That particular day, Bob slinked quietly home from school over an hour late. He had no doubt that his butt was in serious trouble. He shared his predicament with his sister, making sure that she was expecting no friends over that evening, but otherwise kept to himself until suppertime. At supper, Mother noticed that something was clearly bothering Bob but she did not ask, correctly guessing that it was an "8 PM thing". After supper, Bob retired to his room and nervously watched the clock; simultaneously willing the clock to stop while also wishing the clock would "hurry up and get it over with".

At 7:58, Bob took a deep breath and, heart beating madly inside his chest, went to seek his father. Not finding him in the living room, he made a quick pass through the house and finally noticed a light in the garage. Sure enough, he found his dad out there in the process of painting a piece of furniture. Tears welled up in his eyes as he waited for his father to notice him. The father finally glanced up at his son; one look at his son's wet cheeks left no doubt what was coming. "I think you need to spank me dad" the boy managed to croak, handing him a form from the school Principal. "I am sure that can be arranged" the father said, "Before I read this form perhaps you had better tell me more". "I...I...I got detention at school" the boy said. The father carefully folded the form unread and set it aside, "keep talking" he commanded as he continued painting. Bob told him the entire story, finally trailing to a lame ending. Father continued painting, obviously deep in thought. Finally he spoke: "I have about five minutes of work before I finish this coat of paint. I want you to get Jan and your mother and set up the chair in the living room, I will be in as soon as I can".

Sobbing, ashamed, and understandably dreading his imminent lesson, Bob stumbled into the house, and found his mother and sister finishing the dishes in the kitchen. "We all need to go into the living room" he choked out. Understanding immediately, Mother gave him a long hug, wiped the tears from his eyes, and followed him to the living room with Jan bringing up the rear. Bob went directly to the open windows in the living room. Looking out, he could see directly into the living room of the house across the street, which happened to be the home of his girlfriend, Cindy. He did not want anybody outside his family to see him getting his bare butt spanked (least of all Cindy), and he particularly did not want anyone outside to hear him bawling like a toddler; which is exactly what he was afraid would be happening in a few minutes. Bob carefully closed the living room windows and pulled the curtains tight. Then he picked up the dreaded straight-back chair and placed it exactly in the center of the living room facing the couch where his mother and sister were uncomfortably sitting.

Mother never did bother to ask what this was all about, perhaps Jan had already clued her in; in any case, she would find out in a few moments. Seeing Bob standing there awkwardly waiting for his father to appear, she took the opportunity to ask the motherly, embarrassing "bathroom" question. Bob was startled to realize that he urgently needed to pee. He quickly disappeared into the bath that was only five steps away in the hallway. Emerging moments later, he found that his father still hadn't appeared. After fidgeting for a few more moments, he decided to do something useful and kicked off his shoes. After a little more thought and a shrug, he loosened his belt, unbuttoned, unzipped, and pealed off his jeans. When his father finally walked into the room, smelling strongly of turpentine, Bob was standing uneasily, dressed only in white briefs, socks, and T-shirt, fretfully awaiting his fate. Without a word, dad sat down in the straight-backed chair with that damning letter from the Principal in his hand.

"OK, tell us your entire story" Father said. Bob did, trying to leave nothing out. He had been involved in an altercation in the schoolyard. It had not come to blows, but the jerk had hit Bob's hot-button by insulting his girlfriend Cindy. When the assistant principal had happened by, Bob was seen and heard busily yelling obscenities at an innocent-looking fellow student.

There was a long silence.

Finally, Father uttered the dreaded words, "what should your punishment be?" Bob's knees literally knocked together as he answered,"Uh...the hairbrush sir?"

Another long silence; incredibly, Bob felt like he could pee again.

"I was kind of thinking about the belt" Father finally said thoughtfully. (Since neither of the kids had ever gotten detention before, there was no established punishment. The belt was exactly the punishment that Bob was afraid of; he considered it to be far worse than the hairbrush.) Immediately, Bob felt a painful cramping in his gut and he had to clamp his buttocks tight to keep from having the ultimate embarrassing accident right there in front of his entire family; Father had just brought up exactly the subject that Bob had been worried about all afternoon, Bob was terribly frightened that he was going to get the belt! Fortunately, having thought about this beforehand, Bob now desperately delivered a defense that he had been working on for the last two hours 'just in case'; "but you always save the belt for when we do something bad more than once, except for lying, and I am telling you the exact truth." Bob saw his mother nod at his father and he knew that, against the odds, he had scored. "OK, you get the hairbrush," Father said, "How hard should your spanking be on a scale of one to ten?" This was not an idle question; Bob was expecting it, it required a reasoned answer, and the only logical answer would condemn his bottom to a very serious spanking. His intestines cramped again, new tears appeared, and he spoke through a sniffle; "A t-t-ten sir, I have no excuse for using bad words in school". (Any other answer would have required some facts in his defense and there were none.) "I agree" Father said, "you may go get the hairbrush; you know where to find it."

"D-d-dad?" "Yes son?" father asked kindly. Can...can I go to the bathroom first?" "But you just went" Mother pointed out. (Mothers keep track of these things.) "It's the OTHER now, I gotta go bad!" Bob said desperately. "OK" Father decided, "Just do what you must do very quickly and then bring the hairbrush so we can get this business over with." "Yes sir" Bob said over his shoulder, hurrying to the bathroom with that special walk that convinced the adults that Bob was not simply delaying his spanking.

While Bob was sitting on the pot "doing his business" and trying To decide if he should simply kick his underpants off while they were Down or pull them back up for the walk back into the living room, his Parents took the opportunity to discuss the situation for the first time. After a quick conversation, being especially careful what they said because Jan could hear every word, they decided to make a slight one-time alteration in the family's punishment routine. Mother and Jan changed places on the couch so that Jan was on her mother's left; leaving the field clear for the job Mother had just been given; the temporary conversion of a swelled-head teenage boy into a bawling, mommy-spanked child. Meanwhile, modesty won out and Bob decided it best to emerge from the bathroom with his underpants properly in place, it just did not seem right to run around the house barebottom. He completed his "business", replaced his briefs, fetched the "special" hairbrush from his parent's bedroom and returned to the living room, offering the feared tool to his father.

"Bobbie" Father started (deliberately switching to the long-unused diminutive form of Bob's name), "your mother and I have started to see a disturbing change in your attitude since you started high school and we want to remind you that you will still be our child for several years to come; lots of exciting things are going to happen to you over the next few years, but your mother and I will remain your parents." "To remind you of your mother's authority, I have asked her to give you your warm-up spanking before I spank your bare bottom with this hairbrush." "Go to your mother, apologize to her for getting in trouble at school, and ask her for a very good warm-up spanking." Wordlessly, Bob nodded and padded over to his mother.

As ordered, Bob apologized and requested his spanking. At first, this change in procedure seemed like a good deal to Bob because he assumed that his mother could not spank as hard as his father. He was soon to discover that his mother could do just fine! Just as he was wondering if his mother was going to make him take his underpants off or simply allow him to lower them, he got a bit of a surprise; she reached out and whisked them down herself. He stared dumbly at her, his briefs puddled around his ankles. She sat back and regarded her boy, purposely letting him squirm. His T-shirt hung entirely too low for the business at hand, covering most of his butt and virtually all of his rapidly-blooming pubic hair; but it did not hang so low as to hide the fact that her little boy was rapidly becoming a man; the undisputable evidence was hanging right in front of her face! "Raise your arms" she ordered. She had to stand to complete the job, but she grabbed the hem of his shirt and whisked it over his head and arms. Bobby was standing naked except for his socks; undressed by his mommy for the first time in several years.

She left him waiting nervously for several moments while she Looked him up and down, trying to hide her motherly pride in a purposeful frown. Football drill was already sculpting his young body, adding muscle to his shoulders and subtracting baby fat at his abdomen. He squirmed...waiting for the inventible. Watching from the rear, Bobbie's father noted that the tan lines caused from the combination of Bobbie's gym shorts and the hours of sunny football practice sun caused his buttocks to look paper white. They would not stay that way for long!

Finally Mother patted her lap, and the boy almost gratefully shook the briefs off of his ankles and assumed the traditional position. He was on a bit of an angle, his feet on the floor but his torso on the couch, head pillowed next to his sister. Instinctively, Jan held her brother's hands, seeking mutual comfort. Without further delay, the spanking started.

To Bobby's surprise and consternation, Mother did not start out with the usual slowly-increasing pattern of a warm-up spanking. Rather, She began with several resoundingly hard swats right to the meatiest part of Bobby's right buttock, leaving an overlapping pattern of red handprints. Bobby had no chance to demonstrate his manliness by remaining stoic for his warm-up spanking; he was instantly crying and begging for respite, his pale, bare bottom frantically moving up, down, and sideways in a futile attempt to dodge the spanks. He started to reach back to shield his tush, but his sister did him the tremendous kindness of holding his hands in a grip of steel so the spanking could continue more quickly to its conclusion. His ineffectual kicking gradually became a leg curl which his mother countered by throwing a leg over his calves. Mother did not spank with the precision of Father; Bobby never knew where the next blow was going to fall. Bobby would be remembering this "warm-up" for a long time to come!

When Bobby's bottom had finally attained a proper, even, shade of bright red, Mother paused for a moment to release his legs, uncovering virgin, spankable flesh that had been shielded by her leg and then resumed her parental duty with a new vigor. Bobby's movements and vocalizations achieved a new fervor as Mother peppered his tender leg-skin with painful spanks. After just a minute or two of diligent work, this new area exactly matched the shade of his buttocks.

The spanking stopped, it took Bobby a full minute to notice, and then another 30 seconds before he looked tearfully back at his mother to see what was next. Open your legs so I can properly spank your thighs" she ordered sternly. Bobby started to blubber and beg; "You know better than that Bobby", she said sternly, "Open them now"! Reluctantly, Bobby's legs opened. "Wider!" Whimpering, Bobby finally spread his legs enough to placate his mother, leaving one up against the back of the couch and the other dangling down to the floor. Unbelievable pain erupted in his inner thighs as Mother gave them her full attention, spanking fast and hard. Bobby howled, but managed to hold his position long enough for his mother to finish this especially painful part of his punishment. The spanking slowed down as Mother closely inspected her work and added the odd "touch up" spank. Finally, Mother decided that her portion of  Bobby's punishment was complete. After giving Bobby a few moments to calm down, she allowed him up. As soon as Jan released Bobby's hands, they flew down to his scorched bottom; Mother caught them and reminded him that his punishment was only half over. This brought a fresh torrent of tears. She rose from the couch and led the sobbing, mama-spanked boy to his father for the next part of his punishment.

Father positioned the boy, still naked except for his socks, directly in front of him and pinioned him there with his gaze and his silence. Finally he spoke; "tell us all why you are being punished" he commanded. "Because I broke the rules at school by saying curse words and got detention" Bobbie said shakily. "Yes, that is right" Father said, "and I want you to keep that in mind while you are over my lap"; "tell us what is going to happen now". Again Bobbie responded correctly, though the words were filtered through fresh tears; "I am going to get a hard spanking on my bare bottom with the hairbrush".  "Correct again" Father said, "you will be feeling a little bit of this spanking every time you sit down for the next week or two; every time that happens, I want you to remember this lesson so you never forget it for the rest of your life". Father's voice suddenly got gentle and somewhat choked; "you know we love you and we feel that you really need this lesson?" Bobby nodded tearfully and then, at his father's signal, obediently draped himself over the parental lap, his beet-red buttcheeks poised for the painful continuation of his lesson on proper behavior.

Father turned to Jan, gently complemented her on being kind enough to hold her brother's hands during his first spanking and asked her if she would please come over and help Bobby again. Jan got up, walked the two steps over to her softly-sobbing brother, sat down on the floor and took his hands in a comforting, yet very firm, grip; a job that her mother had always done before. Bobby felt his father lean forward and pick up the hairbrush from the floor; he knew he would not have long to wait before that instrument would add a further color change to his buttflesh. Father threw one leg over Bobby's legs, and placed his left arm firmly around Bobby's bare waist. Held in place by both his sister and his father, Bobby squirmed uneasily, his bare butt totally helpless and fully exposed to the impending fall of the waiting hairbrush.

The spanking started without further ceremony, with Father Spanking hard, demonstrating his usual precision, unrelenting cadence and maddeningly-predictable pattern. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! The hairbrush landed three times in exactly the same place, the top of Bobby's left buttock. After a short, measured, pause Father moved down exactly one-half of the width of the brush and applied three more. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! There was never any question of stoicism, Bobby lost control immediately, bawling, squalling, begging, hiccupping; none of which had the slightest effect on the mechanical-like movement of that hairbrush. In spite of the tightly closed-windows, a pedestrian on the sidewalk outside could not have helped but to hear the piercing collision of hard plastic with firm, young, buttflesh and the resulting strident, mostly-incoherent vocalizations from the owner of that particular bottom. Under the loving but firm restraint of his father and sister, Bobby was unable to move enough to avoid any spanks or even spoil his father's precise aim; the most movement that he was able to muster was a twisting of his torso and (naturally) a distinct bouncing motion of his butt as the hairbrush did its efficient work.

Father's spanking technique seemed to multiply the effects of what was already a very hard spanking. There was never any doubt where the next blow was going to fall; the inevitability of the timing and the location each spank was maddening to Bobby; exactly the effect his father intended. Father worked his way all the way down the left side of Bobby's twitching bottom, well past the line of demarcation where buttock becomes leg. Finally, the brush crossed over to the right leg and then began working unhurriedly up the right side. The computer-like cadence of the hairbrush did not vary until the final set of three spanks was delivered at the tip-top of Bobby's right tushcheek; then the spanking was suddenly over. Father's technique, that big "U" that started at the top of Bobbie's left buttock, down to the thighs, across, and back up to the top of the right buttcheek, had caused every square inch of Bobby's backside to receive exactly six blows with the hairbrush, converting a merely bright red bottom to a considerably marked bottom. Because of Bobby's helpless situation, the entire job had taken well less than five minutes. Father inspected his work closely and leisurely, found it flawless, and signaled to Jan to release her anguished brother's hands. Back on his feet, Bobby's hands were finally allowed to shoot back to his bottom and he was allowed a brief spanked-brat dance as he continued to squall and hold his pained bottom, oblivious to his state of undress. Father, Mother and Jan gently formed a circle around the stricken boy to offer their love and to calm him with a long collective hug and murmured words of assurance and love.

As they had done weeks before with Jan, the parents led the still-weeping bare-bottomed boy to his bedroom for first-aid to his bottom and to be gratefully and lovingly tucked into bed, still naked,belly-down, and covered only with a light sheet. Indeed, Bobby had learned a lesson for life, exactly as his parents had intended. The parents then returned to the living room to erase the scene, opening windows and curtains to the cool night air, replacing the straight-backed chair, picking up underpants and other clothing, and returning the hairbrush to its place of honor on their dresser.

Epilogue: The next few days were not as bad for Bob as they could have been. The other boys on the football team could not help but notice Bob's marked bottom. Even if his bare-red bottom had somehow been missed in their communal shower and locker room, his marks continued well below his gym shorts and were there for all to see. But in these times a bruised bottom was not an unusual sight, especially among this group of high-spirited testosterone-charged young men. Any of them could end up with a similar sore bottom from their parents, from the school Principal, or from the often-busy paddle in the coach's office.

Cindy, Bob's girlfriend, was also no problem. Bob told her the day after his punishment the unlikely story that he had "really got it" but that it really hadn't hurt him that much. He fervently hoped that she hadn't heard him squalling all the way across the street! If she had, she was nice enough to never mention it, but that did not stop her From asking several probing questions and offering her own spanking experiences which were not totally unlike Bob's. Bob found this strangely exciting, as did Cindy. Cindy suggested that she would like to see the marks on Bob's bottom, but Bob had an unpleasant idea of what might result the following evening at 8 PM, and decided that his bottom was not yet ready for another parental "lesson". Although sorely tempted by her invitation; he kept his pants tightly fastened around his waist.

Just as his parents intended, Bob had very good reason to remember his recent spanking every time he sat down for the next several days. Healthy young specimen that he was, his pain started fading after only a week, the marks similarly fading after another week.

Bob had learned a lesson for life, never again spouting profanity in an inappropriate place. Bob's attitude also improved, although he did still need the occasional parental reminder to bring him back to earth after his football successes.

Jan and Bob still had about four years each of occasional parental spankings ahead of them. Jan was subject to them for longer than her younger brother because she decided to go through college and thus, remained dependent on her parents and subject to their discipline. For her college years Jan's 8 PM routine had to be modified somewhat; when her parents received a phone call at exactly 8 PM, they knew that she was calling about an "8 PM thing", such as a breach of school rules, or perhaps a bad grade. If a spanking was in order, then Jan came home for the weekend and for her 8 PM Saturday-night spanking. The hardest phone call for the parents to receive was in Jan's senior year when she tearfully and haltingly called to confess a sexual indiscretion. The following Saturday night, Jan, although legally and physically and adult, insisted that her parents not hold back on her punishment. She need not have worried! The belt was retired after that night, but not until after a strenuous session where it thoroughly brightened Jan's bottom one last time. Shortly after her college graduation, Jan was wed to a fellow graduate. They lived a good life in a nearby town in a nice home; the bedroom of which occasionally resounded with the sounds of a punishment spanking vigorously but lovingly applied to the young bride's bare bottom by her husband.

Bob finished high school, moved out into the job force and quickly ended up married to Cindy, the girl across the street. Well before their nuptials, there had been several red bottoms, both his and hers,Most had led to several thoroughly satisfying lovemaking sessions. Everyone said that theirs was a match "made in heaven"; few realized that it was actually spanko heaven.

Copyright” Guyspencer 2010

GuySpencer Home Page

"Family Circle" (M/m, M/f)

GuySpencer Home Page
© Guyspencer 2010

The King family was a very ordinary family of six living in a medium-sized Southern town. If you knew them, you would think of them as fairly religious, and you would probably be envious of the loving, closely-knit style of life that the parents, Jan and Jeff King, cultivated for their family. One of the key customs that the couple maintained to keep the family close together and the household operating efficiently was the “Family Circle”. Although different times were tried over the years, the best time for “Family Circle” seemed to be every Sunday, shortly after the family returned from morning service, because the entire family always went to church together and this was the one time that they could guarantee that every family member would be present. The family normally returned from morning service, changed out of their church clothes, and then, without being told, met in the living room for Family Circle.

“Family Circle” always started out with a short devotional, and then a lively discussion of family matters usually developed. This was a time for the entire family to work together to allocate chores, air grievances, plan family outings and vacations, give recognition of the children’s good deeds, and dispose of all manner of family business. The family would sit in a large circle, usually with the three youngest children on the couch, Sally (the oldest) in the easy chair, and the two parents (Jim and June King) in armless chairs borrowed from the dining room.

If you were a fly on the wall at a typical “Family Circle” meeting, you would probably notice that some of the King children showed up in street clothes and others in pajamas. At first this difference would not seem important, but towards the end of the discussion of family business, you might see one or two of the King children fall particularly silent, or perhaps look at any implements that might be lying on the coffee table and squirm nervously. If there happened to be a hairbrush or perhaps an old belt lying on the table, you would probably notice one of the children looking particularly concerned, perhaps even in tears.

If you were a particularly discerning fly, you would probably guess correctly that “Family Circle” was also “Punishment Circle” for any of the King children that had ran afoul of their very fair household rules over the previous week.

When all of the discussion had finally wound down, all four King children would fall silent and look expectantly at their parents. Mr. King would finally designate one child to “go get the calendar”. On that calendar, in the children’s own hand, would be any of their minor offenses committed over the last week, each offense would have a number next to it assigned by a parent. The parents called this number “demerits”, but the King children thought of it as simply “swats”. Demerits were disposed of by one swat on the bare bottom for each, or (at the parent’s option) one hard swat with a hairbrush for each five demerits.

After clearing any demerits that the King children had happened to earn, the parent’s attention was then directed at any of the children who happened to have earned a spanking. Spankings were given in front of the entire family with the pajama bottoms removed (no underwear was allowed under the pajamas) and were normally given with the hand, but a hairbrush spanking was possible.

Rarely (very rarely) one of the King children would have committed one of the special offenses for which the family’s ultimate punishment was prescribed, a whipping with the family’s spanking belt. This was always done last, and, in keeping with the more serious nature of the offense and punishment, was always done with the offender nude.

It should have be noted that the King’s would have preferred to spank their children privately, but there was one overriding factor that argued for the entire family to be present; all of the children received the benefit of the lesson involved in each spanking with only one of them actually feeling any pain. In other words, the Kings figured that each child would receive fewer spankings if they were allowed to learn from the errors of their siblings by witnessing each other’s punishments. For them, this strategy seemed to work. Often the Kings enjoyed several weeks of “Family Circles” before one was marred by a spanking or whipping. Demerits, on the other hand, were much more common and it was a rare week where there was not at least one child who did not have to lower the back of his or her pajamas and bend over a parental lap to dispose of his or her weekly accumulation of demerits that had been recorded on the kitchen calendar.

There was one particular “Family Circle” that would stay on the entire family’s memory for a long-long time. Sally, the family’s oldest child, was an energetic, good-looking, intelligent girl who singularly seemed to have learned to live almost perfectly within the King family rules. In fact, it had been nearly a year since the girl’s name had been on the demerit calendar, and nobody could even remember her last actual spanking. Sally’s mother and father both talked often about what a pleasure it was to have such a trouble-free daughter; but because of her excellent record, they were perhaps a bit too quick to grant the high-school senior new privileges.

It was Friday night and Sally had been given permission to go out with a group of her friends. Later, that evening, the parents were shocked and concerned when their daughter did not return home by her midnight deadline. At nearly 2AM, the couple was just about to start calling Sally’s friend’s homes when Sally finally appeared. After listening politely to a rather lame excuse, they were telling her how disappointed they were that she did not even think to call them, when Mrs. King noticed the heavy smell of peppermint on her daughter’s breath. Thinking that was really odd because Sally was known to hate peppermint, June sniffed more carefully and noted the distinct odor of beer under the cloying peppermint smell. “Sally Wray King!” She said sternly, “I can’t believe it, you have been drinking beer!” The girls face collapsed into tears, and the parents knew immediately that it must be true. “And you tried to cover it up with the peppermint didn’t you?” Jeff King (Sally’s father) accused. Mr. King’s answer came in the form of a torrent of teenaged, feminine tears. Choking back the angry words that almost bubbled out, the father finally said, “Right now I think we all need to go to bed, but the three of us are going to have a long talk in the morning young lady.” Sally choked out a barely coherent apology, tearfully hugged her disappointed and angry parents, and fled to the sanctuary of her bedroom.

The next morning, June had to nearly drag her daughter out of her bedroom for breakfast. Later, Sally was summoned into her parent’s bedroom for the promised “talk”. “First of all, your ‘excuse’ is flimsy nonsense young lady”, June started, “even if you couldn’t get someone to take you home, there no reason why you couldn’t have called us, your father and I are always happy to pick you up, even at midnight.” “Yes Mommy” Sally agreed, “I don’t know what got into my head.” “I think your mother and I agree that it was alcohol that got into your head”, scolded Mr. King, “not only did you ignore one of our strictest rules, you broke the law! Possession of alcohol by a minor is a crime in this state, and that is just one of the reasons why we have forbidden you to drink.” “What do you have to say for yourself young lady?” Naturally, there was nothing for Sally to say in her own defense. “I am so sorry,” she blubbered.

“OK Sally,” Mr. King continued, “tell us what the punishment is for drinking alcohol.” Sally spoke so low that her parents could barely hear; “the belt” she said. “That is right,” Sally’s mother bore in, “but we aren’t done yet. Tell us the difference between lying to your parents and trying to deceive your parents.” Sally looked at her mother uncomprehendingly, “what?” she said. Mr. King rephrased the question, “What is the difference between lying and deceit?” “Ummm, I guess I don’t know” Sally finally responded. “The reason you don’t know is because there really is no difference”, June King responded, “They are just different shades of the same thing.” Sally look quizzically at her mother, still not sure where this conversation was going. June soon made things clear; “when you used that peppermint to try to cover the smell of the beer so we wouldn’t notice, weren’t you trying to deceive your parents?” “I’m sorry about that mom, really I am.” Sally implored. “Oh you are going to be much sorrier young lady”, June replied, “Remember when we agreed that lying and deceit were the same thing?” Sally did not actually remember agreeing, but now she was horrified to understand exactly where this conversation was going; “No Mommy, I didn’t mean to lie to you.” Sally sobbed. “Oh yes you did young lady, and you planned it all in advance, but you got caught.”

“Sally, ” Mr. King said almost gently. “I know that you are not used to being in trouble, and perhaps all of this is moving a bit fast for you. Should we leave you by yourself for a few minutes and let you think everything through?” “I’m OK daddy, really”, she implored, “I know I did wrong and I want to get this over with.” “OK then honey let’s continue, please tell your parents what the punishment for lying to us is?” Sally’s mouth flew open, “You can’t! I am already going to get the belt. Please don’t whip me twice! She sobbed. “You are getting ahead of us Sally” Jeff said patiently, “tell us what the penalty for deliberately lying to your parents is; we have always made it perfectly clear.” Sally could barely get the words out; she looked down at the floor, hoping it would swallow her up. “A whipping with the belt” she finally said.

“That is exactly right honey,” the father said gently. “If we were to give you two whippings would that be unfair of us?” “No, I guess not.” Sally admitted reluctantly. “There is also the matter of you being two hours late and not even bothering to call us. Your mother and I haven’t even talked about it, but that should be good for either a bunch of demerits or a good spanking; don’t you think? Sally looked down at the floor, “Yes sir” she finally said heavily. “Well your mother and I have already talked about it, and three punishments is not what we have in mind,” Jeff announced, “We are willing to just give you one whipping, but we will expect you to take full responsibility for your actions. You will be receiving an extra hard whipping tomorrow at Family Circle and we expect you to cooperate with your punishment to the very best of your ability. Sally found herself nodding, almost eagerly agreeing to a thrashing she knew she would feel for days. The three went on to discuss Sally’s role in tomorrow’s Family Circle.

Sally spent most of that Saturday in her room. Like a bad tune that you can’t get out of your head, the language of corporal punishment kept running through her head, especially the King family’s penultimate punishment word, “whipping”. Her! Getting a whipping? Why couldn’t it merely be a hard spanking? Then she re-ran her “talk” with her parents through her head for the umpteenth time and realized to her horror that “whipping” was not quite correct; actually her father had said “extra hard whipping”. Like a painful but loose tooth that you can’t stop moving with your tongue, Sally just couldn’t let the subject go. The sad girl remembered the family’s last whipping. It has been last winter. She remembered Billy sprawled over the easy chair’s arms, buck naked, bawling at the top of his lungs, his bottom striped and crimson. More specifically, she remembered the unique view that she had had of the back side of her brother’s “male part” and of his little pucker hole as his legs kicked and splayed in reaction to the blows from that nasty belt. Tomorrow, it would be her naked across that same chair. Could she manage to keep her knees together throughout the entire performance? In her heart, she knew it would be impossible. There was no part of her that her siblings would not see tomorrow. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she would be bawling like a baby through the whole thing! Alone In her room, Sally bared her bottom in front of the mirror and tried to imagine it looking like Billy’s bottom had looked; then she tried to imagine how it would feel after the belt had done its work; then she cried once again.

Her two brothers were too oblivious to notice that Sally was acting unusually subdued, but Jane, Sally’s little sister noticed right away. “What’s the matter Sally?” she asked, when she found her sister gently sobbing in her room. “I’m going to get a whipping” Sally sobbed. “That’s not fair” Jane said. Red and wet-eyed, Sally looked up questioningly at her sister; “Not fair why? You don’t even know what I did.” “You’re too old to get spanked” Jane replied. “I wish that were true,” Sally said thoughtfully, but mom and dad are head of the family and we all have to live by their rules as long as we live here.” “But you are grown up and have breasts and everything. They’re not going to make you get naked are they?” Jane inquired. “I’m afraid so Jane, but I did something really bad and when you hear about it, you’ll know I deserve the whipping you are going to see me get.” “What did you do?” “You will hear all about it tomorrow at family circle just before I ’get it’” Sally hedged, “until then, let’s just keep this between us girls, OK? “ “OK,” Sally’s little sister said dubiously before leaving her sister alone, “I guess so.”

Explaining things to her younger sister actually helped Sally put her situation into perspective for herself. As much as she dreaded her coming date with the spanking belt, she knew that her parents loved her and that her coming ordeal was entirely her own fault.

After a Saturday that seemed to last forever, Sunday morning finally arrived. The King family filled their usual pew in church. Sally was aware that her parents had made some discrete calls to some of the other parents in the group that she had gone out with to tell them about the beer, and it was obvious from their squirming that some of her friends were particularly uncomfortable on the hard wooden church pews. Even though she had not yet been touched, nobody in the building was more uncomfortable than Sally.

After church and Sunday school, the Kings finally arrived home. As was their usual routine, everybody went to their respective bedrooms to change from their Sunday outfits. Mrs. King changed quickly so she could pop Sunday dinner into the oven before the family meeting; Mr. King took a quick shower before he changed into casual clothes. Mr. King had already checked the calendar and knew that today’s “Family Circle” would be an unusually busy one. Billy, the oldest boy, and Jane both had demerits to deal with. Bill had only ten demerits, but Jane had 50; ten from not cleaning up her room and forty for talking back to her mother, an incident that very nearly cost her a spanking rather than mere demerits. Gathering the hairbrush and the spanking belt, Jeff King went into the living room and placed the items on the coffee table, and then borrowed two chairs from the dining room and arranged the furniture in the living room into a big circle.

Mr. King checked that all was going smoothly in the kitchen and yelled up the stairs towards the children’s bedroom, “Family Circle in five minutes”.

Jimmy, the King’s youngest child at 10 years old, was the first to show up. Although Jimmy often had at least a few demerits to settle, today he was to be the only King child to show up in street clothes. He was staring in surprise at the belt on the coffee table when Mr. King asked him to fetch the kitchen calendar on which the demerits were written, they would soon need it. Billy and Jane arrived almost simultaneously, both wearing pajamas. Mrs. King walked in from the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel, and was slightly concerned to see that Sally was not yet there, but then she heard a faint flush and understood immediately that her daughter was taking the precaution of a last minute trip to empty her bladder. Blushing furiously, Sally walked into the room, wearing a pair of demure pajamas, the first time in nearly a year she had appeared so dressed for Family circle.

After leading the family in a short prayer, Mr. King told the family that instead of a bible lesson, Sally would deliver a little talk on the evils of alcohol (he had warned her to be ready). Surprisingly, Sally did a creditable job, spending about five minutes explaining the down side of imbibing alcohol. She reached the end of her talk with a little catch in her throat; “I had a little experience with alcohol recently, and there will be more about that later.” At that instant, all the King children guessed correctly why the belt was there and why Sally was wearing her pajamas.

The meeting now went into routine family matters. The family was planning an upstate camping trip in a few weeks and the boys were detailed the task of checking the family tent and other gear. Mrs. King talked about a problem with bedroom neatness that had developed over the last few weeks. With the business done, the room lapsed into an awkward silence.

Mr. King reached for the calendar and said, “Well, we have a rather unusual batch of disciplinary problems to deal with this week, congratulations to Jimmy for being the only one not on the list.” Jimmy beamed at the rare praise.

“Billy,” Mr. King continued, “You are first on the list, I see you have ten demerits. Please stand and tell the family how you earned them.” Billy blushed, then stood and explained that he had ignored his mother’s warning to clean up his room. “OK, come here and prepare yourself.” The father ordered. As Mr. King spoke, he turned his chair 90 degrees to the left so that Billy’s bare bottom would be facing towards the center of the circle, visible to all. Obediently, Billy stood at his father’s right side, lowered the back of his pajamas, and put himself in position across his father’s lap. The boy bucked slightly as Mr. King slowly delivered five medium-hard hand spanks to each bare buttock. The boy did not cry out, but he clearly had tears in his eyes when he was allowed to stand and readjust his pajama bottoms. Relieved that his punishment was over, the boy hugged his father and mother and then regained his seat.

The next name called was Jane, a normally sweet girl of 12 who had had a rather bad week. Jane had also earned ten demerits with a messy bedroom, but that was the least of it. Jane had allowed her mouth to run unchecked, and had regrettably given her mother some “backtalk”. For her performance, she was quite fortunate to have only earned 40 demerits rather than a spanking. Mr. King made her read off her offenses from the calendar and informed her that she would be receiving 10 hand spanks followed by 8 with the hairbrush. Jeff King informed his contrite daughter, “I think you are getting off lightly with just demerits and this had better not happen again, I will not have my children disrespecting their mother. Come here and prepare yourself!” Reluctantly but obediently, the girl went to her father, lowered her PJ’s in back as her brother had, and started to bend over her father’s lap. He stopped her; “Not so quick young lady, the hairbrush will need a bit more target area than that, lower them below your hips.” As the girl pushed her pajama bottoms further down in back, the elastic stretched, strained and snapped down in front. Her face reddening, the girl quickly got into position to hide her nakedness against her father’s lap. As her feet dangled down to the floor, gravity betrayed her by pulling her pajama bottoms well south of her knees. Demerits were supposed to be a brief, measured punishment, so the father began by swatting Jane’s bare bottom with exactly the same force that he had earlier used on Billy. As usual, Jane responded much more energetically than her brother, kicking and squalling her way through the ten firm hand spanks. “Mr. King paused, picked up the brush, and announced, “OK, eight with the brush! Remember! Never again to talk back to your mother.” “Yes Daddy” the girl sobbed.

Each spank with the brush was worth 5 demerits, so Jane’s father put much more energy into these final strokes. From previous experience Jane knew exactly what to expect, but that previous experience had granted her bottom no immunity to the effects of that nasty implement. From the very first spank, Jane kicked, squalled and bucked. By the third swat, her right legs had jerked free from her bunched-up pajama bottoms, and her kicking caused the garment, still attached to her left leg, to wave like a flag of surrender. No longer attached to each other, her legs splayed in opposite directions. Seconds later, her ordeal over, the sorry girl was allowed up on her feet. Fortunately, the long-forgotten pajamas slipped off of her remaining leg, so she did not trip as she squalled, danced, rubbed, and generally seemed inconsolable, inadvertently revealing all of her charms to her brothers who took no special notice. The King children had been punished together for as long as they could remember, and they had all seen each other several times before. As usual, the girl quickly recovered, her dance quickly giving away to a rueful rub. Next, Jeff King enjoyed of those tender moments that all parents live for. Proving that she held no hard feelings for her red and stinging bottom, his wet-faced, still-bottomless daughter spontaneously climbed back up on her father’s lap and hugged him hard as she indulged in her last few sobs. At her father’s suggestion, the red-bottomed, wet-eyed girl went to her mother, hugged her, apologized for being disrespectful, and promised that it would never happen again. Mrs. King forgave the girl with a hug and a kiss and helped her put her pajama bottoms back on.

Sally watched all of this with tears streaming down her cheeks; she knew that she was next and that she had a far worse punishment coming.

The family’s newest drinker did not have long to wait. “Sally,” Mr. King said firmly, “I believe you have something to say to the family.”

Sally stood, faced the family, and burst into tears. Her mother spoke up gently; “Sally, we are going to all sit here until you say what you have to say. Calm yourself down and get it over with.” With visible effort, Sara pulled herself together and choked out the words; “I…I…I gave in to peer pressure and drank beer Friday night…and then I was afraid to come home and ended up being two hours past my curfew…and then I did something terrible.” The distraught girl went on to explain how she had tried to fool her parents with the peppermint and how she now understood that doing that was the same as lying to them.

“I…I did three things wrong, and two of those things could earn me a whipping, but Dad and Mom are going to consider it all one thing and give me just one whipping, but it is going to be…” at that point, the girl could go no further. Mr. King finished for her; “She is going to get just one whipping, but it is going to be extra hard. You have all been warned; so we are not likely to be so tolerant in the future, understand?” Three King children nodded solemnly in awe, there had previously been a few “extra hard” spankings, but never before an “extra hard” whipping; this was truly going to be a “Family Circle” to remember.

There was a long silence as the parents waited for Sally to compose herself. Finally, she seemed to be able to pull herself together again, and faced her parents bravely, ready for her punishment. “Billy?” Mr. King asked as he picked up the belt from the coffee table, “Would you please help Sally rearrange the furniture for her whipping?” The two kids lifted the coffee table out of the way and slid a wide-armed easy chair into place several feet in front of the couch. They oriented the chair so that Sally’s bottom would be facing her sister and brothers’ while the belt was doing its fearsome duty. That job done, Billy thankfully regained his seat.

“You understand that everyone in this room loves you, right Sally?” Mr. King asked gently. Her eyes stinging with tears, the girl nodded her agreement. “Do you have anything else to say before we begin?” She shook her head “no”. “OK,” said Mr. King heavily, you have a price to pay and you and the other three all have a good lesson to learn from this. You may prepare yourself for your punishment.”

Instantly the girl blushed from her scalp all the way down to her neck as she obediently reached for the buttons on her pajama top. It was a blush that Mr. King knew well; he had first seen it on Sara’s mother 15 years ago as they had prepared to share their first exciting intimacies. The father knew well that when Sara’s pajamas came off, there would also be other things that would remind him of a younger Mrs. King. He wondered how he would bring himself to do his stern duty to his precious first-born. This must be the most severe punishment he had ever delivered to any of his children and he secretly wished it had been anyone but Sally.

Sara finally finished undoing all of the buttons on her pajama top and then seemed to freeze. Suddenly spurred on by a stern look from her mother, the girl quickly removed her pajama top, revealing firm breasts that had doubled in size since the last time that the father had glimpsed them. The girl laid the garment over the chair arm where she would soon be bent, and then reached to her waist to finish the job of baring herself. Quickly, she lowered her pajama bottoms, gracefully stepped out of them, and laid them over the other arm of the chair where they would soon absorb her tears. Sally stood before her family, her rapidly maturing body revealed to her family for the first time in over a year, dread hanging like an anvil inside her tummy.

He father gulped, took a breath, and finally spoke; “Get over your mother’s lap, she will prepare you for the belt.” The King’s had spoken at length about how they were going to handle this punishment. This had to be a memorable ordeal for Sally, but it also had to be safe. A whipping was already the considered the “ultimate punishment” for the King children; so how would they safely deliver the promised “extra hard” whipping? They finally decided that they would make it longer, not harder, and that they would start with a “warm-up” spanking. Mildly surprised at her orders, Sally went to her mother, gave her a peck on the cheek and a brief, teary hug, and put herself in the traditional position across her mother’s lap.

The spanking started with a flurry of rather light spanks that covered Sally’s bottom from her waist down to almost the backs of her knees. When every inch had been covered, Mrs. King stopped to inspect her work, and started again from the beginning, only with slightly harder spanks. After about four repetitions of this treatment, each slightly harder than the one before it, Sally was squirming, her bottom reddening to an ever-darkening patina. At this point, Sally was sobbing, but sobbing more from the shame and mortification than from the pain of the spanking. Mrs. King knew that her daughter was still “fighting it” and had not entirely given herself to her punishment. She intended to change that before Sally was allowed to bend over the chair to feel the belt.

Mrs. King paused one last time. Giving no hint of what was coming next, the mother suddenly unleashed a flurry of perhaps 20 full-strength spanks to the fullest part of Sally’s buttocks. Caught totally by surprise, Sally seemed to lose her breath and could at first only manage a gasp. Her arms and legs splayed, her knees curled up, and her right arm came back in an attempt to defend her buttocks from the unexpected assault. Mrs. King paused just long enough to immobilize the errant arm, and grimly started again. Now Sally found her breath, and her howls filled the room. With that, the mother pronounced the daughter truly ready to go to her father for her real punishment.

Back on her feet, the bawling girl immediately reached back to rub her bottom, but her father quickly grasped her elbows, brought the girl’s hands to her sides, led her to the chair, and urged her across its padded arms to continue her punishment.

With the still-sobbing girl in place, the father picked up the family’s spanking belt, (an old well-oiled work belt) and carefully wrapped it around his right hand three times leaving a business end that was only about 18 inches long. He turned to the three rapt children who were sitting side-by-side on the couch and said, “I’m sorry that you need to see this, but so that I won’t have to do this to any of you, it is important that you know what happens when you are untruthful to your parents or drink alcohol; understand?” Three wide-eyed children nodded earnestly.

“Sally, are you listening to me” he said sharply, A different-sounding sob and a nod of her head told him that she was. “Pull your arms underneath you and keep your hands clasped together. In no case, are you to reach back, that belt won’t feel good on your hands”. The girl looked back fearfully at her father and the belt. Sobbing even louder, she obediently retracted her arms underneath her body and clasp her hands together tightly. “You are a big girl so I am going to expect you to stay in position for the punishment you have earned. If you don’t, this whipping will take a lot longer than it should, understand?” The girl nodded again.

The girl felt leather brush against her bottom lightly as her father carefully gauged the range to her nervously clenching bottom. Sally was really glad that she had earlier made that trip to the bathroom because now she felt nervous enough to pee. Finally it started. The sound of the first collision between buttflesh and leather rang through the room; Sally bucked and howled piteously as a crimson stripe formed in the middle of her left nether cheek.

What followed was the most careful, deliberate punishment that the King children had ever known. The belt slashed down again and again, but always after a suitable pause carefully timed so that the target area had time to steady itself from the effects of the last stroke so that the aim of the next stroke would not be ruined. To make the spanking last longer, he exclusively strapped the left cheek until it looked like a bright red firehouse ladder, leaving the right side still untouched by the belt. After the first few strokes, he had his range calibrated so precisely, that the belt would connect solidly with the left cheek and then the nearly supersonic tip of the belt would barely caress the right cheek as it dug its way into her butt crack to leave a tiny welt that she would feel for days after the other evidence of her whipping had faded.

Sally had real problems staying in place for the first half of her strapping. Her father’s technique of spanking only half of her bottom at a time must have produced an uncomfortable contrast in pain on her bottom, and frankly, Sally had no experience in properly holding position for a punishment. She had never before been strapped and she had been firmly held across her father’s lap for her previous spankings, which were well over a year ago. At first she would howl, buck and writhe after each swat, and her father had only to wait a few seconds for the target to return to its proper place, but then the writhing became more of a twist that hid her bottom from the strap for a few more seconds each time. Finally, the poor girl twisted far enough around to give her father a pitiful, pleading look. Thoroughly uncomfortable, the father explained to the girl in an even non-threatening voice, that her punishment must continue and she was just making it worse on herself. With new determination, the girl put herself back into position, but after a few more hard strokes, a hand sneaked back in an attempt to protect her bottom. Mr. King had been expecting this, and had a plan. He immediately switched his target to his daughter’s lower, left thigh where the hand could not reach. Sally screamed and howled piteously, but her father was steadfast, and continued working on the entire area below her left butt-crease until she was red and marked almost down to the backs of her knees.

In the same flat tone, loud enough to be heard above her cries, but still sounding patient and controlled, Mr. King told his daughter to put her arms back into place. “We are almost halfway through” he said, “but I need to work on your bottom some more”. Still sobbing profusely, the girl complied, pulling her arms underneath herself.

A few more swats finished off the left cheek, and the father immediately started on the untouched (except for the warm-up spanking) right buttock. Sally’s screeching and bucking started anew, but, perhaps partially exhausted, she seemed to be able to hold her position better for this part of her spanking. Soon, Sally’s left and right sides were made to match each other and her punishment was almost over. “Hang in there Sally, just the finishing swats and we are done” her father announced. He stepped back and unwrapped one turn of the belt from his hand, leaving a longer tail. This time the belt finally slashed down across both sides at once, right on her “sit spot”. As his precious daughter bucked and screamed, the father carefully laid three more identical stripes in the same general area. Mrs. King had insisted on these “reminder marks” that Sally would feel every time she sat down for the next few days.

The father looked at his wife for approval, and she rewarded him with a solemn nod. She agreed; Sally’s punishment was finally over.

He dropped the belt and kneeled down next to his sobbing daughter, put his arm across her heaving shoulders and told her that she had taken her punishment well and was forgiven. Looking up at his other children he suggested, “Come over here one at a time, give your sister a kiss and then leave quietly. Your mother and I will take good care of her and get her to bed. Don’t forget what this was all about! No alcohol and truthfulness!” The three children nodded solemnly and complied, Billy first, whispering a few encouraging words in her ear, and giving her a quick peck on the cheek before going on to meet the rest of their day.

Alone with their hurting girl, the parents escorted her to her bedroom applied a soothing lotion to her livid bottom, and put the still-nude girl tummy-down in her bed with a single sheet over her body. After explaining to Sally that her punishment was over and she was free to get up and get dressed whenever she was ready, the parents tiptoed out of the girl’s bedroom.

As usual, life quickly returned to normal in the King household. Sally did not show up at Sunday dinner, so this gave the parents an opportunity to explain to that other children that Sally’s punishment was over, and that Sally was still their “big sister”, and that she still deserved their respect just as before. They were told that Sally would be hurting for a few days and that they should show her love and understanding. Finally, the children were warned that teasing Sally about her punishment would not be tolerated. As they had hoped, it was the last incident of alcohol abuse or major dishonesty involving any of their children that the Kings had to deal with. Their “lesson plan” was a success.

Copyright Guyspencer 2006

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"Lessons From Granny" (F/f)

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© Guyspencer 2010

For the first decade of her life, Jan lived a very normal family life. Her parents subjected her to very normal discipline, virtually identical to that of most of her friends. Spanking was used as a last resort, and on those rare occasions it was always her father who led her to the privacy of her room (usually at bedtime) and reddened her little bottom, always with just his hand and usually over her panties except when special emphasis was needed.

Jan’s parents disagreed deeply about corporal punishment, but had reached a workable compromise early in their marriage. The compromise was simply that Jan’s mother would not oppose her husband’s decision to spank Jan, but he would limit punishments to moderate hand spankings. Furthermore, they agreed that bare bottom spankings would be rare. Over the years, both parents honored their side of the deal, and Jan never detected any tension between her parents concerning her discipline.

When Jan was about 12, her father’s health began to decline. Since Jan’s father was the family’s sole spanker, her spankings gradually became rare and finally disappeared altogether. As her father’s health worsened, Jan started spending considerable time at the home of Ellie, her maternal grandmother. This worked nicely because both parents wanted Jan to have an escape from the grimness of her father’s now terminal illness and it gave Jan’s mother (Mary) more time to care for her husband. Jan and Ellie became very close, she often spent several days at a time at her grandmother’s house during her father’s worst spells. Although Jan never complained about her grandmother, Mary was quite disturbed to discover that her mother had twice spanked Jan’s bare bottom with her old hairbrush. From past experience, Mary knew that Ellie’s views on discipline were firmly held and that there was no changing them. In particular Mary was intimately (and painfully) familiar with that same old hairbrush from her own childhood years.

Finally it happened; Jan’s father died. Although his death was expected, there followed the usually flurry of grief, out-of-town family, painful viewing sessions, and finally the funeral service. Weeks later, life had returned to a new version of “normal” with Jan and her mother finding a new way of life together. Jan now saw much less of her grandmother, but they still spent many Saturdays together. Mary dealt with her grief by throwing herself into her profession. She told herself that she was doing it so that she could afford to give Jan more opportunities, such as saving for her college education, but gradually her job grew to where it began to crowd Jan out of her life. The result was that Mary became increasingly unavailable to Jan, both physically and emotionally.

Not surprisingly, Jan’s behavior began to decline. First there were problems at school, but Mary blamed the school administration. Things got worse. After each incident, Jan seemed remorseful, but Mary’s (non-physical) punishments were having little effect. In desperation, Mary asked her mother for suggestions, but always received the same answer “Do you want to borrow my hairbrush?” Stubbornly sticking to her earlier rejection of spanking, Mary always ignored her mother’s advice.

It was when Mary received the phone call from the music store that she realized that things had to change. The security guard had caught Jan stealing a music video. Since it was Jan’s first shoplifting incident, the manager released Jan to her mother rather than involve the police. The ride home was quiet. Jan’s shoplifting seemed senseless to Mary; after all, Jan had enough money to buy several music videos.

When they arrived home, Mary and Jan had a long conversation. As usual, Jan seemed truly sorry for what she had done, but offered her mother no explanation for her behavior.

Finally, Mary sent Jan to her room and phoned her mother. “I am desperate Mom; what should I do?”

“I have told you several times what to do,” Ellie responded, “you just never do it.”

“I…I don’t know if I could bring myself to do it,” responded Mary, “but I know that I need to do something different. I might not be able to bring myself to spank hard enough, or I might spank too hard and injure her. Can’t you help me just this once?”

There was a long silence, finally Mary heard her mother say; “You are really asking me to spank Jan for you?”

“Well, tomorrow is Saturday and Jan was coming over anyhow; I am really desperate, I need any help I can get.” There was silence on the line; finally Mary surrendered completely; “Yes mom, I guess that you have probably been right all along, Jan needs to have her bottom spanked.”

There was another long silence. Ellie finally made up her mind: “It will be my way, and you know what that means!”

“Yes mom, I remember exactly what that means”.

And then finally Mary got her answer; “OK, just this once, and only because this needs to be a truly hard spanking. After this, you need to take that hairbrush home and use it as necessary.”

“Thanks Mom,” Mary breathed, “I will go break the news to her right now, she will be there tomorrow morning at the usual time.”

Jan seemed a bit taken aback, but took the news stoically. She again apologized, and then mother sent her to bed early. Her mothering duties finally over for the evening, Mary went downstairs, turned on her laptop, and buried herself in her business affairs for the rest of the evening.

The night was rough for both of them, especially for Jan. No sooner would she get to sleep than a red-bottomed vision of herself would wake her up. Regardless of Jan’s and Mary’s trepidation, morning arrived exactly on schedule. Mary rousted Jan out of bed at 7:30 and told her to be ready and down for breakfast by eight. Breakfast was a quiet affair; it was obvious that Jan was thinking about her impending punishment. “I am really sorry Mommy,” she finally said.

“I am sorry too Jan, but this seems to be something you need.”

“I…I guess so,” Jan conceded, “Is it going to be with the hairbrush?”

“You can bet on it,” Mary said, “and if I know Mom, it will be on the bare and be the hardest spanking of your life.” Jan took this news with a tiny tear in her eye.

Moments later, they were in the car. As grandmother’s house and Jan’s punishment got closer, the girl started sobbing. By the time they made it to Ellie’s porch, Jan was bawling.

“Jan? Jan?” Mary asked, “Are you going to be OK? I hate to leave you like this but I really need to get to the office you know. There is some work I really need to catch up on.”

“No Mommy, NO! Don’t make me face a spanking alone!” Jan bawled, “I love grandmother but you’re my mom and I need you with me for this.”

Just then Ellie opened the door. “Naturally your mother is going to stay for your punishment,” Ellie said. She turned to her daughter, “Your office is closed today and can do without you just fine. Isn’t your daughter more important than your office?”

Subdued, Mary mumbled an apology and escorted Jan inside.

Ellie quickly embraced the trembling child and gave her a kiss, and then pulled Mary into a 3-way embrace. In a husky voice she said, “Both of us love you a whole bunch Jan. We are going to punish you for thievery. We are going to make your bottom hurt enough to teach you a lasting lesson, and then we will forgive you and go on to more pleasant things; OK?” Reluctantly, the girl nodded. Ellie pressed on; “You know that you need this spanking; right honey?” Sobbing, Jan nodded again.

“OK”, the grandmother said, “first of all use the bathroom, and then just like the other two times I spanked you, you will fetch the hairbrush, put a dinette chair in the living room and get bare; right?” Still sobbing, the girl nodded again. “Then go; we will see you in the living room soon.” Ellie sent the girl off with a swat to her bottom.

With the girl out of earshot, Ellie turned to her daughter, “What the hell were you thinking about Mary? Did you really think it was OK to just drop your daughter off here for a spanking?”

“I’m sorry Mommy, I don’t know what I was thinking about.”

Slightly mollified, Ellie asked. “Are you serious about taking that hairbrush home and using it when Jan needs it?” “Yes Mom, I am convinced now; but I’m still afraid of hurting Jan.”

“Well you can pick up some pointers today, and I can be with you the first couple of times”

“Thanks Mom,”

“…and you can give Jan her warm-up spanking today.”

Mary stood open mouthed, “But…but I thought you were…”

“Yes Mary, I am. But she needs to have her bottom warmed up for the hairbrush. Just spank her tush nice and red with your hand and get her crying freely. Then it will be much easier for her to take her hairbrush spanking; you will be doing her a favor.” Reluctantly, Mary agreed to spank her daughter for the very first time.

With that decided, the two ladies went into the living room. They found the wet-faced girl standing next to the dinette chair in the center of the living room with pants and panties lowered below her knees. She was holding the feared hairbrush in one hand, and covering her groin with her other.

“Oops,” Ellie said, “I guess I wasn’t specific enough. You need to be naked for this punishment. And don’t worry about covering yourself like that; we have both seen everything you’ve got hundreds of times before.” Jan actually started to protest; “but why naked Grandma?” Ellie instantly cut her off; “What I should be hearing is ‘Yes Grandma.’ Actually I will explain in a minute, but get everything off first”.

Balancing on one foot at a time, Jan pulled off her socks and then pulled her legs out of her jeans and panties. Coloring slightly, she completed the job by removing her blouse and bra. “Fold those clothes up neatly and pile them on the coffee table, you will need them later,” Ellie ordered. Blushed with embarrassment, the girl complied.

Ignoring the spanking chair for a moment, Mary and Ellie sat down together on the couch and motioned the naked girl in front of them. Both ladies realized at that moment that it had been some time since either had actually seen Jan fully nude. Both Jan’s mother and grandmother looked at the girl’s flowering body with a mixture of love, pride, and a bit of envy. Below the trim girl’s pretty face were tiny, firm breasts that barely justified an “A” cup bra. Her flat belly was decorated with a perfect navel. Trailing down from the navel was a narrow line of barely visible down hairs that led the eye down to a triangle path of longer blond hair that was not yet sufficiently luxuriant to obscure her female anatomy. A pair of hips that were just now starting to round out in anticipation of future motherhood served to make her waist appear impossibly tiny and framed her pubic mound perfectly.

The pause grew long and uncomfortable. Naturally, the pause was especially uncomfortable for Jan. Finally Ellie broke the silence: Do you remember the other times you have felt this hairbrush? “Yes Grandma, the first time I got spanked for sassing you and the second time was when you caught me with the cigarette.” “And you have never done either of those things again have you Jan?” “No Grandma, I haven’t.” “See?” Ellie said, “That hairbrush really works! Now on a scale of one to ten, how hard would you say those spankings were?” The girl stopped to consider her answer: “They were really hard Grandma; I guess a nine or a ten?” Ellie broke the news to her granddaughter gently: “Actually I would call those fives. Today you are going to get an eight. It probably should be a ten, but I want you to have something special to look forward to if you ever steal anything again.” The girl looked at her grandmother soberly. “Mary”, the grandmother said, turning to her daughter, “I am sure that you have already scolded Jan and had a long talk with her about her behavior so we don’t have to cover that ground again, right?”

Mary pointed at her daughter; “Let Jan answer that.”

“Yes,” Jan assured her grandmother, “Mommy and I had a talk last night, and then she talked to you on the phone and then she told me I was going to get sp…spanked by you.”

“OK that covers that,” declared Ellie, “Now for the next item; you asked my why you had to be naked for this spanking, and there are several reasons. First of all, it is going to be a very hard spanking that I want you to remember for the rest of your life so we never have to do it again and being naked will make it just a bit more memorable. Second, when I am done with you and you are done dancing and crying and rubbing your bottom, all you are going to be thinking about is going to bed for a while and you will already be dressed for it. Third, it is kind of a symbol for something I am going to need from you right now.”

There was a long silence until Jan finally asked the question that seemed to be required of her: “What is that Grandma?”

“I need the naked truth,” Ellie said, “I can see the whole outside of you, but now I need you to help me see what is inside. Will you help me with that?”

“I will try Grandma,” the girl said with obvious curiosity in her voice.

“You did what you did and your punishment is all decided. Nothing you say in the next few minutes will change your spanking for better or worse; understand?” The girl agreed with a silent nod. “OK,” the wise old lady said,” I want you to think back to the moment you walked into that store, it was only yesterday, this should be easy right?”

“Yes Grandma,” the girl agreed.

“Tell us what you were thinking at that moment; the moment you walked into the record shop.”

Jan stopped and thought for a moment, “I was thinking about Mommy.”

“What about your Mother?”

“I was wishing she was with me, but there was some work she had to catch up on at the office so she told me to go to the mall by myself and get something to eat and she would meet me there.”

In a softer voice Ellie said, “I happen to know that you had enough money to buy that video if you had really wanted it, and I happen to know that the one you ‘stole” was by Dave Matthews and you don’t even like his music.”

“She doesn’t?” blurted Mary, “I didn’t know that.”

It came out before Ellie could stop herself: “Perhaps if you paid a bit more attention to your kid you would know these things.”

As Mary sat back stunned, Ellie turned back to Jan and motioned for her to talk, “I was mad at Mommy, because she promised me she would be there and she wasn’t. Maybe I wanted to get caught just to teach her some sort of a lesson.” Both Jan and Mary were more than a little taken aback, Jan because she had revealed more than she had planned on, and Mary because the truth had cut her like a knife.

The new batch of tears in Jan’s eyes kept her from noticing the daggers in Ellie’s eyes as she looked at Mary. Understanding that she shared some of the blame for the incident in the music store Mary started to say, “Perhaps we shouldn’t spank Ja…” but instantly Ellie cut her off,

“Oh yes, Jan gets spanked! She did the crime and now she gets the ‘lap time’ just like we promised. We can ‘discuss’ your part in this later.”

Ellie stood and gave her granddaughter a long, comforting hug and then held her at arms length. “I think we have gotten to the bottom of this thing and I think we now can make a few changes that will help out in the future. Are we all ready to start your punishment?” Jan nodded miserably. “OK honey” Ellie said gently “your mom will give you a warm-up spanking and then I will do the honors with the hairbrush.”

At that, Mary reluctantly stood, gave her daughter a squeeze and a peck on the cheek, and then led her by the hand to the dinette chair in the middle of the living room. Mary sat on the chair, and Jan automatically put herself in the traditional position across her mother’s lap.

Perhaps Jan and Ellie expected the spanking to start immediately, but Mary had her own ideas. Starting with her tense neck muscles, Mary massaged her daughter as she spoke gently to her. She told Jan that things were going to be quite different in the future, and that both of them were going to be more accountable in the future. She explained that the hairbrush would be going home with them, and that Jan would once again be subject to regular spankings should they be needed. She also promised that she would change her priorities to make more time available for her daughter. By this time, she had worked her way down so that she was massaging Jan’s back.

Finally, Mary explained to Jan that her behavior in the music store had been not only been wrong, but willful. “It is time for you to pay for your actions and learn a lesson that will last you for the rest of your life.” she concluded as she massaged Jan’s clenched buttocks. Jan made a response that may have been intended to be an apology, but the best she could manage was an inarticulate sob.

There was a silence as Mary continued to massage her daughter’s bottom. Mary was trying to compel Jan’s gluteal muscles to relax, and also sort of taking the measure of her target area before she began the unfamiliar task of spanking her daughter. When she finally had the girl’s buns relaxed, she took another minute to work her way down the backs of girl’s upper legs.

Without warning, Mary steeled herself, raised her hand, and struck her daughter’s bottom for the very first time. Jan bucked and squealed in surprise and pain. Mary looked down at the red handprint on her daughter’s bottom, gulped and sobbed. Realizing the huge step her daughter had just taken, Ellie found herself blinking back tears. Mary continued to stare at her daughter’s quivering bottom, so Ellie decided to break the spell with a bit of motherly advice.

“Start off kind of soft and then slowly build up the heat until your spanks are just a little harder than that one was.” Mary nodded her understanding, pinned Jan’s tiny waist with her left hand, and grimly went to work.

A few minutes later found Mary was doing a creditable job of “building up the heat” on her daughter’s bottom. Jan’s entire bottom was turning a bright red, and Jan was long past the stage where it was possible for her to remain silent. The girl was crying real tears and her nose was running prodigiously, making the girl gasp uncomfortably for air between her cries. Jan was not the only one with wet eyes. As Mary spanked, she was spanking a bottom that was greatly distorted by the tears running from her own eyes. Regardless, the mother grimly soldiered on, doing her duty as she now saw it. Jan’s bottom was not difficult to find; she could have done the job blind, and the increasing blush of her bottom’s skin showed through her teary vision just fine. Twice, Mary had to warn Jan to get her right hand away from her bottom before Ellie finally suggested that Mary capture it and hold it in the small of Jan’s back.

Finally, Mary sensed that her part of Jan’s punishment was complete. She stopped spanking her daughter, looked up at her mother, and was rewarded with a smile of approval. Mary held Jan in place for a full minute to allow her time to calm down. “OK, honey, Mary said in a businesslike tone, “we are going to change spankers. Stand up next to the chair, keep your hands away from your bottom, and do not move.” Still crying freely, the girl stood up. Although she barely succeeded in keeping her feet in one place, she hopped up and down and wiggled her bottom in a vain attempt to sooth the sting.

A moment later, Mary and Ellie had changed places and Jan was across her grandmother’s lap. For just a moment, Ellie ignored the naked, red-bottomed girl lying across her lap, and started giving Mary spanking pointers in a manner that was almost clinical. “Mary, pay attention to how high I raise the hairbrush and how fast I bring it down. Remember, this thing multiplies your strength and you have to be careful with it. The idea is to impart a memorable sting without doing any lasting damage.” Mary nodded her understanding.

Finally Ellie turned her full attention to Jan, who was sobbing anew. A moment later, Ellie was firmly holding Jan in place and that old brush was doing its awful duty.

A mere two minutes later, it was all over but the crying. It had not taken the determined grandmother long to deliver approximately 30 moderately harsh wallops to Jan’s rump and a flurry of lighter strokes to the lesser padded regions on the backs of her legs. Her bottom had at first turned a new darker shade of crimson, and then took on a mottled appearance that presaged moderate bruising. Her resistance broken down by her session over Mary’s lap, the girl had filled her lungs and shrieked from the very first stroke of Ellie’s hairbrush. Ellie had expected this, fortunately she had closed all of the windows before Jan and Mary had arrived. At least she would not be answering question from nosey neighbors!

It took a full 60 seconds for Jan to stop her keening cries and notice that she was no longer being spanked. Ellie said a few calming words to the girl and urged her up on her feet. Jan’s hands immediately reached back to her stinging bottom, and then flew away as her desperate rubbing reawakened thousands of outraged nerve endings. Jan had to settle for a sort of lewd dance with her hands trying to wave some cooling air onto her overheated bottom.

Finally, Jan went to Ellie for a forgiving hug, and started to climb into her grandmother’s lap. “No Jan,” the old lady said, “I love you but that is your mother’s job.” The next thing Mary knew, she had a lapful of daughter desperately hugging her and sobbing on her shoulder. Mary held her daughter for several minutes, rocking and whispering calming words before Ellie finally suggested, “why don’t we get your little girl in my bed so that we can doctor up her bottom and let her get some rest?”

Mary led Jan towards Ellie’s bedroom while Ellie ran ahead to pull down the comforter and top sheet. Without prompting, Jan stiffly climbed up into the bed and lay facedown. Mary looked at her daughter’s livid bottom with a special interest; she knew that her own bottom deserved the same treatment for her part in this matter.

Mary rubbed her daughter’s back and neck and spoke soothing words to distract her while Ellie gingerly applied a soothing cream to Jan’s swelling buttocks. Ellie threw a single sheet over the girl and soon the girl fell into an exhausted, endorphin induced sleep.

Ellie looked at her daughter and with a slight edge to her voice said, “I think we need to talk while we have the chance. Let’s go out in the living room.” Obediently, Mary followed her mother.

Mary and Ellie had a long talk about Mary’s parenting style. Ellie made Mary understand that she had been shortchanging Jan in favor of her job. Mary needed to change her priorities. When the conversation was over, both women looked at the dinette chair still sitting in the middle of the living room with the hairbrush lying on it. Both knew what the other was thinking…

Some indeterminate time later, Jan was awakened by the sound of a spanking. She clearly heard the “pop” of the hairbrush as it repeatedly collided into someone’s bottom. That “someone” was making lots of noise. Obviously, these sounds made no sense to Jan’s sleep-dulled brain. She was the only non-adult in the house; how could she be hearing a spanking? Perhaps it was too-vivid a memory of her recent spanking… perhaps it was just a bad dream…perhaps…perhaps… Her brain settled everything by dragging her back into a deep sleep, a place where a girl needn’t worry about spankings.

An hour later, Jan stirred and was surprised to feel a warm presence next to her. She reached over to find her mother laying naked on her belly, apparently in a deep sleep. Suddenly remembering her “dream” and developing a suspicion, Jan lifted the sheet and inspected her mother’s bottom. She winced at what she saw, and then realized what her grandmother had done for her.

Mary opened one eye, smiled sweetly at her daughter and the two dissolved into a mutually comforting embrace and drifted back off to sleep together.

Jan’s final thought before being overcome by sleep was a certainty that everything was going to be different now. Grandmother had taught two lessons today.

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