My Big Mouth (M/m)

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© Guyspencer 2010

WARNING: All the usual warnings and reservations of rights apply. Although there is no sex in this story, it is not for minors. This story depicts bare-bottom spankings of a minor. If that bothers you, this is not the story for you.


My Big Mouth

Mrs. Carlson and her desk swam in front of my tear-filled vision. “Do you have something to say to me?” she asked. “M…M…Mr. Crowley said to ask you to get me ready for the p…p…p…paddle” I was finally able to stammer as I stood in front of the school secretary’s desk outside of the principal’s office I had just left.

Only fifteen minutes earlier, I knew I had made a terrible mistake as soon as the sassy words had passed my lips. For the second time in only two weeks, I had sassed the teacher in front of the whole class. Immediately thereafter, she quick-marched me down the hall and deposited me in the principal’s office of my large, private religious grade school. The first time something this serious had happened to me, the Principal sent me home after a lecture with a letter to be signed by my parents. As a result, my father spanked me that evening. I returned the signed letter to school the next day to be checked for a proper parental signature and to be included in my “permanent file”.

The discipline rules and procedures at my school were considerably stricter than those at the local public schools. The school’s disciplinary rules and procedures were never completely explained to us, but nevertheless, we knew them intimately. As part of our registration process, all parents signed forms giving the school specific permission for our “appropriate physical discipline”. Looking back, the process was really quite fair. First offenders were seldom spanked at school. The principal knew that school spankings were almost always repeated at home, so a letter sent home with an errant student would almost surely result in the offender getting spanked by his or her parents.

When it WAS done, a spanking at school was always done on the bare bottom, and for repeat offenders, the usual hand spanking could be followed up by a brief to moderate application of a paddle or belt. It seemed very unfair to us (and especially to ME right now) that we could be subject to BOTH a hand spanking AND an application of a belt or paddle. However, it never really occurred to us that if the Principal had used the belt or the paddle for the WHOLE punishment, the damage to our bottoms would have been far worse.

The procedure, as we came to learn it, was for Mr. Crowley, the Principal, to send the condemned miscreant out to Mrs. Carlson, the school secretary, with a request to get him or her “ready” for punishment. Mrs. Carlson would then immediately confiscate the student’s shoes, (probably to make escape unlikely). She usually then sent the student to the bathroom with instructions to “try and go”. (This was apparently because some long forgotten past student had dribbled into the principal’s lap.) Female students were also instructed to remove “everything underneath their skirts”. This may seem embarrassing, but it gave the girls a big advantage over the boys. Unlike us, they could then get their bare-bottom spanking without frontal exposure by simply having the bottoms of their loose uniform skirts flipped up.

Wisely, the principal would never allow himself to be alone with a disrobed student. Therefore, Mrs. Carlson always accompanied the miscreant back into the principal’s office for the punishment. If an “implement” was to be used, such as the paddle in my case, Mrs. Carlson would produce the paddle or strap from her supply closet and hand it to the student to carry into the principal’s office.

To my mortification, after my trip to the boy’s room, there was a salesman and a mother waiting to see the Principal. In their full view, Mrs. Carlson handed me the paddle and instructed to sit down and wait. I padded up to a chair and sat quietly trying to avoid their curious glances, tucking the paddle next to me so it would be less obvious. I don’t know about the salesman, but the mother certainly knew what I was waiting for. The principal dealt with the mother and then the salesman. I was alone in the waiting area. It was my turn.

Mrs. Carlson got up from behind her desk and escorted me and the paddle into the principal’s office and shut the door behind us with a very final sounding “thump”. He did not even look up from his paperwork. At the secretary’s orders, I prepared for my punishment. She made me pull a straight-baked chair into the middle of the room and lay the paddle down on it. Then she directed me to remove my pants, and lower my underpants to just above my knees. Even though my face was bright red with embarrassment, I now realize that I must not have been as exposed as you may be visualizing. The large tails on my school-uniform shirt covered much of my nakedness front and back. To my mortification, my adolescent male physiology immediately conspired to defeat that slight advantage. A cold draft started the process, and the unaccustomed friction of the starched shirt-tail against my penis finished it. Concentrating on trying to stop it only made things worse! There was nothing I could do; I stood there with tears in my eyes and with an unwanted erection peeking out from between my front shirt-tails. I must have turned beet red! Mr. Crowley finally looked up at me. He did not even seem to notice the object of my embarrassment; he had probably seen the effect many too many times before. “Mr. Spencer, are you ready for your punishment?” he asked. “Y…y…yes sir” I answered. He got up and walked around his desk to me, picked up the paddle and sat down in the chair. After a few words about “taking my punishment like a man”, he laid the paddle down on the floor to his left and ordered me over his lap.

“Scoot up higher” he said. I found myself with my bottom up high, my feet off the floor, and balancing myself with my hands on the floor. I was looking straight down at the paddle not six inches from my nose. I felt him fold my shirt-tail up in back. His left arm circled tightly around my waist. I was desperately uncomfortable, already crying, and with my head nearly upside down the effluent from my nose was threatening to mix with my tears.

Looking back, I realize that Mr. Crowley was a demanding and talented spanker. He used words and drama to enhance the beneficial effects of the punishment (and probably, to allow him to reduce the physical part.) “Explain to me why you are here” he said. He would not accept a short answer. In complete sentences, and excruciating detail, he made me sob through a complete description of my two class disruptions. He then made me tell him why that is bad and what would happen were students allowed to say anything they wished to the teachers.

My spanking finally started, although the question-response session continued. He started spanking exclusively on my right buttock. SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, “Will this help you going to learn how to control your mouth? “Yes sir”. SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, “What will happen if you do this again?” “I don’t know sir.” SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, “Well, what would you suggest I do?” “(sob) A spanking sir?” .” SPANK, SPANK, SPANK, SPANK “What kind of spanking?” “Owwwwww” After sever dreadful rains of spanks, he finally got the response he was looking for, “With the s-s-strap sir?”

The spanking and the questioning went on like that. My responses were getting less and less coherent. The sting on my right cheek seemed all the worse because the Principal had not yet touched the left. He was saving that one!

Like many boys, I had made a silent (and stupid) pledge to myself to take my spanking in silence; but Mr. Crowley was far too experienced a disciplinarian for that to work. Even if I had a chance of holding out mutely against the quickly rising sting in my bottom, his constant questions quickly broke my concentration and frustrated my efforts. I was starting to break down fast, grunts giving way to silent sobs which quickly degenerated into uncontrolled blubbering. My tears were landing on the waiting paddle, which the Principal had placed under my face where I could not avoid seeing it. Of course, I was squirming, writhing and kicking, but he was holding me too firmly for that to have any effect. Finally, my feet came up unbidden, trying to protect my burning, squirming bottom. Mrs. Carlson was ready for this. She stepped forward and easily caught both of my ankles and held them down. To this day, I don’t even want to think of the view she must have had.

That was probably the sign that triggered the next phase of my spanking. Spanks suddenly rained down on my left cheek; the one that had remained virgin until then. The talking part was temporarily over, now he was just spanking me in earnest. My blubbering quickly turned into loud cries. I raised my hands to try and reach my bottom, but gravity conspired to slide me forward until my head almost struck the floor. I was restrained only by Mrs. Carlson’s hold on my ankles.

Mr. Crowley stopped for a moment to readjust my bottom and to warn me “to behave”, reminding me of my promise to take my punishment “like a man”. “We have to do a good job to get you ready for the paddle” he said. That was an unwelcome reminder, in my pain I had forgotten about the paddle!

He waited an entire minute watching my shoulders shake with sobs.

The spanking started again. He expertly spanked both of my cheeks, and in the tender spot where bottom meets leg, and then his spanks wandered down onto my legs. I was a complete wreck, having long ago completely surrendered to the spanking. I did not realize it, bit Mrs. Crowley no longer even had to hold my legs.

It stopped.

I was too far gone to notice for a while. I lay on his lap and blubbered for several minutes before I quieted down.

“Are you ready for the rest?” he asked?

Feeling like a boy who had already been thoroughly spanked, it took me a few seconds to remember, to my horror, what the “rest” was.

“Well?” he said. To my shame, I blubbered and begged. Naturally it do no good. “Hand me the paddle” he ordered sternly. It took some further threats of dire action from the Principal, but finally I balanced myself with my left hand, picked up the slightly wet paddle with my right, and shakily handed it up to him. He pronounced sentence. “You will only be getting four swats”, he said,” You must count them out loud if you don’t want extras.” Having been sentenced to only four strokes was small comfort, the maximum number that anyone was known to receive was six.

What happened next made me an instant celebrity among my classmates. Allow me to digress for a moment to explain that there is only one classroom that is within earshot of the principal’s office. The Social Studies room shared an interior wall with the principal’s office. Our school building was old and solidly built, but loud noises, such as a hard spanking, traveled quite clearly from the principle’s office to that one particular classroom. As luck would have it, my class had made their regularly scheduled move from the homeroom to the Social Studies room while I was so unhappily occupied in the Principal’s office. Although the wall somewhat muffled the first part of my hand spanking, they could clearly hear the harder “tail” end of my preliminary hand spanking. Then they heard the pause in the action as the principle allowed me time to regain my composure, and then demanded that I hand him the paddle.

As the Principal brandished the paddle, Mrs. Carlson automatically stepped forward to again restrain my ankles. “SPLAT!” my classmates finally heard the first paddle stroke, quickly followed by my adolescent howl of pain. Then they finally heard my voice give the required count: “ONE”. Then…”SPLAT!!”; all normal educational activity had long stopped when the paddle again connected with my tortured bare rear. I don’t remember, but they said I screamed and then it seemed like I would never give the count. “TWO” I finally said at the principal’s prompting. “SPLAT!!”. They heard the paddle connect with my asscheeks for the third time. Then it happened. “GODDAMN!!!” I yelled.

You could hear a pin drop in the classroom as a long silence ensued. The Social Studies teacher was speechless. One does not “take the name of our Lord in vain” in a religious elementary school, particularly THIS religious elementary school. Not one of my classmates would have changed places with me at that moment, not for a million dollars.

I never got the fourth swat with the paddle. Mr. Crowley jerked me up off of his lap as if I had suddenly burst into flames. I stood before him as he quietly lectured me. My underpants had fallen to my ankles, I desperately wanted to reach for them, but I did not dare. My blubbered apology fell on deaf ears.

The lecture finally stopped. “Remove your shirt” he told me. “Mrs. Carlson, we will need the strap” he said over his shoulder. After losing my shirt, I stood clad only in my T-shirt. Now there was nothing to hide my adolescent nakedness. My young ears easily heard Mrs. Carlson’s supply closet door open and then close. She reentered with the strap, dreaded by every student in the school, and a large pillow. The pillow went down on the chair to substitute for Mr. Crowley’s lap. With a surprisingly gentle push behind my neck, Mr. Crowley guided me back into my former position; draped over the chair, face near the floor and red bottom facing up for business.

He did not announce the number of swats in advance as was his normal practice, nor did he make me count them (as was also normal). My classmates clearly heard me receive an unprecedented eight swats. (This after already receiving three with the paddle.) He stopped only to reposition me after I nearly rolled off the chair after number four. Mrs. Carlson had to hold my shoulders for the final four.

I barely noticed when the strapping was over. Finally, Mr. Crowley took my hand and guided me up off of the chair. Unashamed, I bawled and rubbed by bottom with both hands. He told me to put my underpants back on. Through my tears, I had trouble finding them on the floor. Finally I found them, across the room where I had somehow kicked them. Getting them untangled seemed to be far too complicated a task in my condition. Finally, Mr. Crowley took pity on me and helped me into them as if I were a three-year-old.

Since I was making far too much noise for him to accomplish anything in his office, Mr. Crowley left to make his rounds. Mrs. Carlson went back to her desk, leaving me alone for a few minutes to regain my composure and finish getting dressed. Some 20 minutes had passed before I finally crept out of the office to Mrs. Carlson’s desk. “Are you ready to go back to class now?” she asked. I probably would have been too ashamed to be seen in my class, but it did not occur to me that my classmates would have heard my distress. She handed be the dreaded parental note with instructions get it signed and returned the next morning before class. I had every reason to believe that I was in for another strapping that evening when my parents saw that note.

PART II

I was slightly late getting home. After school, everyone wanted to hear about my ordeal, making me a minor celebrity. Besides, I was naturally in no particular hurry to get home to “face the music”, and frankly, it hurt to walk. I handed the note over to my mother as soon as I got home. My father was not yet home and I would rather face her than him. She already knew. Mr. Crowley had called her to explain about my bruised bottom. When she told me turn around and lower my pants, I thought she was going to strap me right then and there in the kitchen. As it turned out, she just wanted to inspect my bottom. Having done that, she sent me to my room to “wait for daddy”.

It was the longest wait of my life. None too soon, I heard his car in the driveway. Then I heard the front door open and close. The house was bathed in a silence that seemed to last for hours as he absorbed the news. I heard his steps on the stairs leading up to my room. Unbidden, a tear slid down my cheek. The door opened. It was him. “Get downstairs right now young man” he said. Eager to please, I quickly obeyed. After a long lecture, and another inspection of my bottom, he told me that my bottom was too bruised to accept further spanking today. My momentary relief turned to despair when I realized that I had to wait for my certain punishment. I was on restriction until my parents deemed me ready for another hard spanking; or perhaps another strapping, they never did specify.

Every day for the next week and a half, I had to return straight home from school, put on my pajamas, and remain in my room; not knowing if that day was the day I would be called downstairs for my spanking. Every day or two, my mother would check my tush by the simple expedient of pulling the back of my pajamas down. She would not give me any hint of how close it was to being sufficiently healed. Naturally, I attempted to keep track myself by checking it in a mirror.

My time finally came on a Saturday morning. Dad called me down to the living room and gave me a lecture much like the first one. Finally, I was told to “get in the bedroom” (meaning my parents bedroom) “get the hairbrush”, “get ready for it” and “think about what I had done to deserve what they now had to do to me”. Alone in their bedroom, I found the hairbrush and laid it on the bed, thankful that I was apparently to be spared from the belt. Then I removed my pants, shirt, shoes and socks and plopped my underwear-clad bottom down on the bed next to the hairbrush to await my fate. I was usually spanked on the bare bottom, and had no reason to think that I would not be this time…but a 10-year-old is not always rational. At this tender age, I had no problem appearing naked in front of my parents, I simply had an irrational hope that I could get away with that tiny bit of padding on my bottom.

A few minutes later, my mother looked in on me and noted my still-covered bottom. Another quiet lecture followed. Did I think that what I had done was serious? “Yes mom” Did I deserve to be spanked hard? (Gulp) “Yes mommy” Did I think I should be spanked over my underpants? (GULP) “No, I guess not”. Without another word she left. I finished the job, first sliding off my underpants, then after a moments thought, my T-shirt. They joined the small pile of clothes on the bedroom floor. I sat naked…waiting; dreading what must now happen, shivering in spite of the warm air.

In my youth, parental spankings were not the private, almost furtive affairs that they are today. First; parents had nothing to fear. Spankings were an accepted and respected part of child “rearing”. Second; in these days home air conditioning was virtually unheard of. Our screened windows were wide open throughout the house for much of the year. Today was no exception. Because of the heat, and because few people had television, people spent far more time outdoors than they do today. Several of my friends and neighbors would clearly hear my distress. I knew that Jack and Alice, the childless couple next door, would pointedly ask me later if I had “learned my lesson”. All of my neighborhood playmates would know intimate details of my punishment simply by listening. The smarter ones would learn from what they had heard and avoid a similar fate. I found this public aspect to my childhood discipline slightly embarrassing, but it was an accepted part of life in those times. It applied to my playmates as much as it did to me.

They let me stew for a full hour. All too soon I heard the crunching sound of aluminum ice cube trays being emptied in the kitchen. That sound had a special meaning for me; I can close my eyes and hear it today. I immediately started crying openly. This had happened twice before. When I was in for the very hardest spankings, my mother prepared a bowl of ice to apply to my tortured bottom afterwards to reduce bruising and swelling. There was now no doubt, I was really in for it, and soon! They walked in together. I was sobbing into my hands. My father stood me up, turned me to face him and gently pulled my hands down from my damp face. He explained that I would not get the strap because I had already been punished by being on restriction for more than a week, besides; he thought that he could do a fine job with the hairbrush. (The truth, as he confessed years later, was that the hairbrush was just for the added drama. He could spank me as hard as necessary with just his hand.) As was their routine, he told me to go to my mother, apologize for my misdeeds and request a spanking. As usual, I received a stiff hand spanking across my mother knee, and was set back on my feet for the main event. My bottom was already bright red and my punishment had barely begun. Without further prompting I went to my father, handed him the hairbrush, stammered through an apology, and requested that he finish my punishment.

It would be redundant to fully describe the spanking that followed. As previously explained, there was no doubt the neighbors clearly heard the noise that a parental-propelled hairbrush makes colliding with my bare bottom, and my anguished, adolescent, response to the terrible burning in my rear. As usual, my father sat well back on the edge of the bed. I crawled up on the bed and placed myself prone facedown with my bottom centered across his lap. My mother handed me a pillow. I wrapped my arms around it and buried my face. My father did not spank quite as hard as the principal, but much longer and with almost scientific thoroughness. After what seemed like a thorough job that savaged my bottom and the back of my legs almost down to my knees; he paused. From prior experience, I knew he was not done. After a few moments pause, he made me open my legs so he could spank the tender flesh of my inner thighs. I made no pretense of bravery. As always, this part made me shriek. He then finished the job with a final flurry of spanks all over my bottom.

Although I never had any doubt that the spanking was given in love, I was inconsolable for several minutes after I was finally allowed up off my daddy’s lap. When I was finally calmed down a little, my mother took my dad’s place on the bed and I was again face down across a parental lap; this time for a long application of cooling ice on my still-bare bottom.

After nearly an hour of post-spanking ministrations, I was told that I could get dressed and go out and play for the first time in two weeks. Somehow, I was just not ready. My mother helped me into my underwear and then I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room. To celebrate the “new me”, and the end of my long punishment, the three of us went out for a rare restaurant meal that evening. Perhaps due to the ice treatment, or perhaps because my dad did not spank as hard as the Principal, my bottom did not hurt bad when I sat down. In fact, my bottom healed quickly over the next two or three days.

NOTES: All events in this story are fiction.  The settings however, are actually from the author's youth.  Particularly the description of the school, the school office the school secretary, and that Social Studies classroom where you could hear the occasional spanking are accurate.  At my elementry school, the Principle and Assistant Principle occasionally gave OTK spankings; and at least sometimes did so with the student's pants lowered.  The male and female gym teachers and the boys shop teacher had paddles and seemed to be empowered to use them regularly.  The author was never actually spanked or paddled there, but did once recieve a few swats to the palm with a ruler(though he deserved worse).   For a true-to- life description of a spanking that the author accidently witnessed through the Principal's window check here: School Remembrances

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Instant Fatherhood Part 4: "The unfair spanking" (F/f, M/F)

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© Guyspencer 2010

This story springs from two roots. Without both roots, the incident would never have happened. The first root is from Part Three: Ed allowed his fiancée, Jenny, to assist in his daughter Karen’s punishment for violating Ed and Jenny’s privacy. Ed would later realize that he had not been careful enough with that situation, so Jenny was somehow left with the mistaken idea that Ed had given her carte blanche permission to discipline Karen.

The second root actually traces back to a few weeks after Ed and Jenny had met. On an evening when Ed and Karen, his adopted teenage daughter, were home alone, Karen asked Ed if they could have “truth serum” (Actually, Karen’s favorite ice cream) for desert. “Sure” said Ed. But then, looking at Karen’s serious face, Ed asked, “Does this mean that we have something to talk about?” Karen looked at the floor and mumbled “Yes”.

Later, when Karen had emptied half of her bowl of ice cream, Ed finally prodded her, “Karen, wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to your Daddy about?” Karen’s face instantly fell, “Yes, we need to talk about something, but then I am afraid you are going to want to spank me.” “Let me be the judge of that,” Ed said soothingly, “just put the truth out here on the table so we can both talk about it.”

“Well” Karen said, as if she didn’t know where to start. “I…err…I have been doing something bad.” “Go on” Ed urged “I know this is hard for you, but you are half way there now.” “I…I…I have been doing something I know is bad and I can’t seem to stop.” Ed instantly relaxed, guessing what it was. “Do you mean something you do in the bedroom by yourself?” The girl looked startled, “How did you know?” “Because virtually everyone does that when they are growing up, it is a normal part of growing up and turning into an adult.”

“Do you mean it’s OK to do that?” The girl asked with mild amazement. “Well” Ed temporized, “as long as you do it in private and not so often that you crowd other things out of your life, or make yourself sore and… “And what?” “And as long as you promise to wash your hands afterwards.” Ed said with a grin. “Daddeeee, yuck!” Karen squealed, “Of course I wash my hands after my hands are…err…there”.

In a more serious tone, Ed added, “I guess this is something we should have already talked about, but we parents tend to avoid it because it is uncomfortable for us. First of all, the proper word for it is ‘masturbation’ and it is something that almost nobody talks about and fewer people admit to actually doing.” Karen nodded her understanding but added, “some kids at school told me that it is bad for you and it is a sin.” “Well Honey,” Ed said, “everything I have read on the subject says it is perfectly normal, and I know that some people think it is bad, but I believe that they just have an old fashioned idea.”

Karen looked at Ed with large innocent eyes, “Did you ever masturbate Daddy?” Ed blushed deeply, “Err… Like I said, this is something that almost nobody talks about… This is just between me and you right?” “Sure” said Karen, already knowing the answer. “Then ‘Yes,’ Ed admitted reluctantly, “Can we move on to another subject now?” “Sure” said Karen with a bit of a smirk

Now that you know the two roots to this story, you can probably guess some of what comes next.

It was about two weeks later, when Ed had to work a rare half-day on a Saturday. Jenny, (who was spending more and more time at the Collins house as the marriage date approached) came by after breakfast to take Karen to a shopping trip, and found the house seemingly empty until she found Karen’s bedroom door closed. She called Karen’s name and received no answer, so she opened the bedroom door expecting to find Karen asleep. Instead, she found Karen on her bed, her eyes screwed tightly closed, with her pajama top wide open, her pajama bottoms at her ankles, her knees bent, her thighs wide open, and her hand working industrially somewhere just inches below her navel.

Karen did not even notice that the door was open until she heard Jenny loudly clear her throat. Karen’s eyes flew wide open and she instantly abandoned what she was doing to reach down and pull up her pajama bottoms. “It’s too late for that Karen” Jenny snapped, “just kick those pajama bottoms off and we will deal with this girl-to-girl.” Having no idea what was on her future mother’s mind, Karen obeyed, finding herself nude in front of Jenny except for her unbuttoned pajama top.

“It looks like I got here just in the nick of time,” started Jenny, “It is important that you don’t get addicted to that kind of behavior. It is a sin, it is bad for your body, and it will lead you straight to slutty behavior with boys, which will likely lead to your pregnancy. I don’t want your father to be hurt by knowing what you were doing, so I am going to ‘nip this in the bud’ right now.”

Karen was simultaneously confused, ashamed, and scared. She was plenty old enough to understand Jenny’s tone of voice, and knew that a spanking was coming, and she was certainly ashamed at having been discovered masturbating. But in the light of the conversation she so recently had with Ed, Jenny wasn’t making any sense to Karen.

Karen tried to explain to Jenny but got nowhere; “but…but” “but nothing Karen!” Jenny insisted, the only ‘butt’ around here is going to be a red one! I love you Karen but I am going to do you the huge favor of making your bottom hurt so much that you will never want to abuse yourself again. You are just too nice a girl to be treating yourself that way.” The girl tried again; “But Jenny I….”. Jenny stopped the girl before she could explain; “What did I tell you Karen? There is nothing to talk about! Your hairbrush is here in your bedroom right?” With a dry mouth Karen answered, “Yes Mam.” “OK then” Jenny responded, “fetch me your hairbrush and let’s deal with this right now before your father gets home and finds out what you were doing while his back was turned.”

Sobbing in fear, frustration and mortification, Karen did the only thing she knew to do; she obeyed. As Jenny watched the pretty young teen turn and walk to her dresser, she admired the girl’s round bottom and budding figure and knew that her future daughter was maturing fast. As the girl retrieved the feared hairbrush from her dresser drawer and turned around with it in her hand, Jenny noticed that the girl’s silky fine pubic hair was still wet and matted. The realization that this was evidence of Karen’s recent sin filled Jenny with a new resolve, she must act now or this girl would go irretrievably down the slippery slope to sluthood. Reluctantly, the wet-faced girl handed Jenny the hairbrush. Sitting down purposely on the edge of Karen’s bed, Jenny laid the hairbrush behind her and motioned for Karen to stand at her right side. “Every time you get the urge to do that…that thing…to yourself, and you WILL get the urge, I want you to think of yourself getting caught and then I want you to think of yourself across my knees getting your bare bottom walloped; understand?” Karen nodded sadly. “OK,” Jenny ordered in a no-nonsense tone of voice, “you may put yourself in place so we can get started”. Obediently, Karen did exactly as she was told.

Fortunately for Karen, the spanking started without further scolding. Karen was still confused and a bit numb; but that did nothing to protect her bottom! Jenny folded Karen’s pajama top high on the girl’s back, leaving her virtually naked. Without bothering with a slow warm-up, Jenny started right out with a brisk hand spanking, applied in that same uneven random style that Karen unhappily remembered from the day she had been caught eavesdropping on Jenny and her father. Almost immediately, Karen was crying freely as her bottom bounced and jounced from the firm spanks and her torso futilely tried to twist her quickly reddening buttocks away from the worst of the blows. Of its own accord, Karen’s right hand came back to attempt to shield her tush from the blows, but Jenny easily caught it and pinned it in the small of Karen’s back.

The spanking continued until Karen’s bottom was significantly redder than the other time Jenny had spanked her. Finally Jenny stopped to take a breath and inspect her work. Karen had barely enough time to realize that her spanking had paused before Jenny shifted the girl’s weight slightly, moved her right leg out from under her, and used it to trap Karen’s legs.

Purposely picking up the hairbrush, Jenny spoke to Karen for the first time since the spanking began; “Karen, are you listening to me? … Karen!” Finally Karen realized that she was expected to respond; “Uhhh, yes maam?” “Are you thinking about what this spanking is all about?” “Yes Mam, I…I won’t do it any more.”

“OK Karen,” Jenny said, “I want you to visualize what you were doing when I opened the door and caught you, … Are you doing that?” “Yes Mam,” Karen sobbed. “OK then Karen, I want you to hold that thought in your head and forever connect it to this…”

The only warning that Karen was given was a tightening of the hand that was already firmly pinning her right hand in the small of her waist, before Jenny used the hairbrush to unleash a furious fusillade on Karen’s bottom.

Pinned in place with her bottom exploding in impossible pain, Karen could do little but arch her back and howl. Copying Ed’s previous performance, Jenny took about two minutes to first turn Karen’s bottom an angry dark shade of red, and then continued until a few darker splotches showed; these would later turn unto painful marks on the girl’s bottom, which would serve to reinforce the “lesson” every time Karen sat down over the next few days. By now, it was clear from Karen’s diminishing struggles and cries that the punishment had reached its logical conclusion. With a final two extra-hard swats to each cheek, Jenny released the sobbing girl, helped her to her feet, and gathered her into a long tender hug. It took at least 15 minutes before Karen regained her composure. Jenny continued to hold the girl a bit longer, relishing the quiet and this closeness with her soon-to-be daughter. Finally, she walked Karen into the bathroom to wash away her tears.

“I am really sorry I had to do that Karen” Jenny said gently “I am sure that we will never need to have that particular conversation again will we?” Still confused, Karen said what she knew was required of her “No Maam” “OK then” Jenny said brightly” Let’s forget this ever happened, get you dressed, and then go do that shopping just like we planned”.

Still confused but feeling vaguely guilty, It took two days before Karen could bring the subject up with Ed. “Daddy, remember that talk we had about things we do by ourselves in the bedroom?” “Yes honey” He replied, wondering what was on the girl’s fertile mind.

“I…I guess we had some sort of misunderstanding a couple of weeks ago when we talked about mas…mas…masturbating.” “I thought we were pretty clear on that Karen” Ed replied, “What is the misunderstanding?” Karen kind of choked and finally replied: “Well Jenny kind of…sort of…caught me…doing it. She said that it was a very bad thing to do and that it was a sin.”

With Ed’s patient probing, the entire story of the incident with Jenny came out, including Karen’s spanking. For a moment, Ed felt like his world was closing in on him. Afraid that Karen would think that his anger was directed at her, Ed made a monumental effort to keep the anger he was feeling out of his voice.

Although Karen was not normally shy in front of her new father, it was very difficult for her when Ed insisted on viewing the “damage” from her spanking. His eyes grew wide and he gritted his teeth when he saw the angry marks on his little girl’s bared bottom.

Fortunately, Jenny had a church committee meeting that evening. After the meeting she would go home to her own apartment, so Ed had a full day to cool down and consider how to confront his fiancée. On reflection, he felt partly responsible for not making it clear to Jenny that his previous permission to spank Karen had been a one-shot deal. On the other hand, Jenny had failed to listen to Karen’s explanation and by contradicting his previous advice to Karen, had directly undermined Ed’s authority with his daughter. Worse yet, Jenny had kept the whole incident a secret from him! Upset as he was, Ed was not ready to ditch Jenny over a single incident, even one as serious as this. Jenny had obviously acted without thinking; Ed silently vowed not to make things even worse by doing the same himself. He silently vowed to be patient with Jenny and to hear her side of the story before acting.

The next day, Jenny was supposed to come over for supper, but Ed called her at work and asked if they could “cancel supper” and said that he would like to see her at her apartment that evening. Jenny could instantly tell by the sound of Ed’s voice that something was wrong, but could elicit no further explanation from him.

After Ed had a quiet dinner with Karen, he washed the dishes and then checked that Karen was industrially doing her schoolwork. He gave her a hug and a fatherly kiss on the cheek, reminded her of her 10 PM school day bedtime and left for Jenny’s apartment.

Jenny waited nervously in her apartment for Ed’s arrival. A thousand thoughts went through her mind, but she hadn’t a clue what was on Ed’s mind. Finally she heard a familiar knock on her door and rushed to let him in. Holding a brown paper bag in one hand, he distractedly gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek before leading her to the couch. “What’s going on Ed?” She asked.

Ed got right to the point: “Tell me about Saturday morning.” “We had a nice day and got all of our shopping done.” Jenny replied. “No” Ed said, “I mean before you two went out shopping.”

“Oh” said Jenny, “I wanted to save you that worry. I am sorry you had to hear about that.” Without raising his voice, Ed firmly insisted, “Jenny, I asked you to tell me about Saturday morning. Will you please do that for me?”

At that, Jenny finally told Ed the entire story, starting with finding Karen “in the act” and ending with the hairbrush spanking. “I really thought it was best for all concerned to keep this ‘just between the girls” she concluded. “Did Karen try to explain anything to you?” Ed asked evenly. “What’s to explain?” Jenny responded, “I caught her in the act.”

“There are several problems here,” Ed explained. “First, I am Karen’s father, and there should be no secrets about Karen kept from me. Second, I never gave you carte blanche to discipline Karen without even talking to be first, especially not to spank her.” “But…but” Jenny started. “Jenny” Ed said, “I know you meant well, and I am trying not to be mad at you, but I am not done. Please let me finish.” Mollified, Jenny replied “OK”.

“I think the first error you made was not listening to Karen. If you had let her talk, she would have told you that we had a talk about masturbation about two weeks ago and I gave her the best information I had available.” Opening the bag he continued: “I got the information right out of these child care books, and on the subject of teen masturbation, all three generally agree.” My pastor gave me one of these books when I adopted Karen, and the other two came highly recommended from friends. At the time, I figured I needed all the help I could get!”

“What is there to read?” Jenny asked, “I learned when I was growing up that masturbation is bad for you, it leads to early sexual activity, and it is a sin against nature. We all know that”. “Yep,” agreed Ed, “I ‘learned’ that too when I was a kid, but it seems I learned wrong. I am going to leave these books with you and I want you to promise to read them, and then I hope you will do your own research. When you are all done, we don’t have to agree about masturbation, but I want you to promise to open your mind.”

“OK” Jenny agreed. “And then,” Ed continued, with just a tiny bit of steel slipping into his voice “We need to talk again about Saturday morning, because we are not even close to being done. We still need to talk about why you refused to listen to Karen and why you decided to punish her without even telling me. Can we do that tomorrow?”

“I guess I am in trouble huh?” Jenny asked soberly,” That would be an understatement.” Ed agreed, “As things stand today, I still want you to be my wife, and Karen still wants you to be her mother” Jenny started to relax, but Ed continued, “But how we proceed depends a lot on your attitude about what happened and if I think that this incident signals some continuing problem”.

“OK”, sad Jenny, “I promise to do my homework. When do you want to get together tomorrow?” “See you at our place for supper tomorrow? Ed asked. Jenny quickly agreed. After a few more minutes of small talk, Ed made his excuses, gave Jenny a hug and a quick kiss, and departed. It was not lost on Jenny that the Ed failed to linger for their usual “fooling around” session. Lately these had been wonderful events that increasingly ended up with the couple between the sheets.

It was nearly midnight when Ed’s phone woke him from a sound sleep. When Ed picked up the phone, a very distraught Jenny was on the other end.

The words tumbled out of her mouth: “I, err, did my homework, and I did a lot of thinking. Yes, my ideas about masturbation were about half a century behind the times. I can’t believe how stupid I was about this whole thing. I made a terrible mistake with Karen! How am I ever going to make it up to her?”

Ed’s response was not as helpful as Jenny was hoping for: “First we need to settle this matter between you and me before we can even start to talk about how you might make this up to Karen”. Jenny’s only response was an anguished sob. “I was planning to talk to you about this tomorrow Jenny, but your two biggest mistakes were not listening to Karen, and then trying to keep the incident secret from me. Both of these things make me question your basic judgment ability.” “It seems to be a curse in my life that every time something really good is about to happen to me, I do something blindingly stupid and end up sabotaging myself” Jenny blubbered.

“Well, what do you suggest we do now” Ed asked, “How can you convince me that you have truly learned a lesson here and that this will never be an issue again?” There was a long silence at the other end of the line. Ed, determined to “keep the ball in Jenny’s court” waited, forcing Jenny to finally respond. If I tell you how Sam (Jenny’s late husband) and I would have handled this will you think I am some sort of pervert? You and I have been intimate long enough that I would know by know if you were a pervert Jenny” Ed replied, “Just say what is on your mind”.

“Well,” Jenny started, “Perhaps I should have told you about this before, but I was afraid to.” :”Just get it out,” Ed said, “I really doubt that it will make me think worse of you, and it may help.” “OK”, Jenny said as she drew a big breath, “Sam and I had sort of a deal. When I did something like this; you know…something stupid or something wrong, we had sort of a deal…” “Go on”, Ed said encouragingly. Finally she continued: “When something like that happened, he…he…spanked me. Not just a baby spanking, he spanked me really hard…on the bare bottom.” Ed could almost hear his fiancée blush over the phone. “And then the second half of the deal was that I always learned my lesson from my punishment so it would never need to be repeated, and Sam always forgave me as soon as the spanking was over. Our most important rule was that the end of the spanking was the end of the incident, as if it had never happened.”

“OK, let’s make sure I am clear on this”, Ed said, “You’re suggesting that you will willingly submit to a spanking to settle this incident, and after that, you will never do anything like this again?” Her heart beating furiously, Jenny breathed, “Yes”. Ed bore in, “…and I get to decide when I am going to give you this spanking, where I am going to give you this spanking, how long it will be, how hard it will be, what clothing you will take off first, and what I am going to spank you with?” Jenny gulped and answered, “Yes, I will have no say in the punishment.” Ed wasn’t done, “… and after that, we will have the same agreement that you and Sam had? You will submit to a spanking any time I reasonably decide you have earned one?” “As long as you hold up your end of the bargain,” Jenny agreed, “when the spanking is over, the entire incident is over and I am forgiven.” “OK,” Ed agreed, I am ready to go along with your suggestion, but there is just one more thing that I want you to consider before we “seal the deal”. “Go ahead” Jenny said, wondering what was next.

“I saw Karen’s bottom. It seems only fair that I should use that same hairbrush on you and that your bottom should look at least as bad as hers did.” Jenny heart rate accelerated even more, but there was only one answer to give: “Under the circumstances, I guess that’s only fair,” she managed to say. “I will do my best to cooperate and stay in position, but you will probably have to hold me down and don’t expect me to be silent! But when it’s over I will only blame myself for my sore bottom.”

“That’s fair enough.” Ed said. “I think that we have figured out a way out of this mess.”

“Not quite” Jenny said, “What do we do about Karen? There is no way we can ‘unspank’ her! Who do I make this up to her? Will she ever respect me again?” There was a long silence on the phone.

“I think that Karen respects you right now.” Ed said carefully. She has been through a lot in her life and she knows that her parents are human and make errors. Why don’t you start out with a good apology? “Naturally I will do that but still…” Ed had another idea: “I may decide that Karen has a right to know about your punishment, but that will take a bit more thinking first. Come here tomorrow straight from work and we will talk to her.”

Jenny gulped and finally asked the next question on her mind, “When…when will I get my sp…sp…spanking?” “Don’t worry Jenny,” Ed said in a reassuring tone of voice, “I won’t keep you waiting for long.” After a bit of “sweet talk” the couple said “good night” and hung up to finish their night’s sleep.

The next afternoon, Jenny arrived at the house just moments after Ed’s car pulled in the driveway. They both greeted Karen, who had been home from school nearly an hour. Then the couplw went into the kitchen to prepare supper. Fortunately, Karen went back to her bedroom to finish her schoolwork so the two had a few moments’ privacy.

Ed realized with a start that he rarely saw Jenny dressed in her office suit, and he found the tightly-skirted outfit to be strangely sexy. As soon as they were alone, he pulled her into a tight hug. Moments later, they were kissing and Ed’s hands were wandering. When he cupped both of his hands around her buttocks, the sensation, though pleasant, served to remind both of them about today’s “business”. Almost apologetically, they stepped back from each other. “Still OK with what we talked about last night? She nodded. “This is your last chance to change your mind” Ed offered. “No”, she replied, “I am nervous as a cat, but I really want to get this over so our life can get back on track.”

Finally she asked what was uppermost on her mind; “Have you thought any more about telling Karen about my spanking?” “Yes”, Ed replied, I have been thinking about it all day, but I still haven’t decided. I think that I will just see how she reacts when we talk to her and then I will just trust to my parental instinct and make the decision on the spot.” “Ok,” Jenny replied nervously, “I will just follow your lead then.”

Supper was a simple affair. Jenny sliced some cold cuts while Ed tossed a salad and warmed up some canned beans. Moments later, they had the table set and called Karen to the table. At first, they ate in silence. Ed noticed that Jenny was barely picking at her food. He was considering encouraging her to eat, but then thought that it was probably better that he not put her across his lap with a full stomach. When they were done, Ed picked up the dishes and brought out bowls of Karen’s favorite ice cream. “Oh wow”, the girl enthused, “truth serum!”

“Close” Ed replied, “but tonight let’s just call it ‘serious talk serum.’ I believe that Jenny has something she wants to say to you”. A few tears instantly betrayed Jenny’s inner turmoil. “It’s about Saturday morning Karen. I was totally in the wrong. You did nothing wrong, and then I didn’t listen when you tried to explain. And then I just went ahead and paddled you with that hairbrush. I would give anything if I had a way to take that spanking back. I am terribly, terribly sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I was mad for a while,” Karen admitted, “Well; perhaps ‘confused’ is a better word. But dad explained everything to me, so I guess I understand what happened now.” Karen stood and gave her future mother a hug. ”You are officially forgiven” she said. Then the girl got a thoughtful look on her face, “I sort of feel that I told on you. Did I get you in trouble with Dad?”

“Whoa.” said Jenny, “It is always OK for you to talk to your father…or your mother. You did nothing wrong and you did not tattle! As for the rest of the question…” She gave Ed a questioning look.” “Yes, Jenny is 100% right,” agreed Ed, “you may always come to either of us, or both of us together, with anything that you have on your mind.” Ed hesitated, obviously considering his next words. “Karen, you have been very grown up about this whole thing so I am going to let Jenny answer the second part of your question, but first I want you to promise that what we talk about next will remain strictly family business. You may not talk about this to anyone except me or Jenny.” Karen nodded soberly; “Yes sir, I promise.”

Ed looked at Jenny, “OK, go ahead and answer the question.” Jenny reached out and took both of Karen’s hands. “You asked if I am ‘in trouble,’ and the answer is yes. I have not yet been forgiven by your father, and (just as important) I have not forgiven myself. Perhaps it was not my fault that I had old ideas about…about what you were doing, but I was wrong to punish you without hearing you out, and I really should have consulted with your father before punishing you. I thank you very much for forgiving me Karen; but yes, I am still in trouble”.

“Go ahead honey,” urged Ed, “tell her the rest.” Jenny gulped and continued, “I have asked your father to please spank me, and he agreed that was the best thing to do. After that, he has agreed to forgive me and forget this mess ever happened.” She choked a bit and finally added, He says my spanking will be at least as hard as the one I gave you. In fact, I think we will need to borrow your hairbrush. Is it still on your dresser?

Karen’s eyes got big and she hugged Jenny. You’re sure you’re not mad at me? Karen asked. “No sweetheart,” Jenny sobbed, “I am mad at me. May I please borrow your hairbrush?” “I wish it were just to brush your hair, but yes; it’s on my dresser.” The girl replied honestly.

“Karen,” Ed said in a businesslike voice, “I want you to gather your school books. I am going to drive you over to the library. I think you need to do an hour or two’s research…right? “Please no daddy,” Karen insisted, “I want to be here to help comfort Jenny after her spanking. That hairbrush hurts!”

“Honey,” Jenny explained gently, “Like you, I assume that your father is getting ready to spank my bottom. If you stay in the house, you will hear my spanking, and that won’t be a pleasant thing for you to hear. I intend to cooperate with your father to the best of my ability, but I also know that he will quickly bring me to tears…and then I will probably beg him to stop, but that won’t do me any good. And then, there is no telling what noises I might make.

“But I know what a spanking sounds like.” Karen insisted, “and I know what that hairbrush feels like, and (she blushed just a bit) I know what a spanking looks like too. I don’t need to see you get spanked, but I am part of this family and I want to be here to comfort you when it is over.”

Jenny looked at Ed. Ed looked at Jenny. They both shrugged. Finally Ed spoke, “Yes, I guess spankings are no mystery to you. I am going to take Jenny in my room for her spanking. I want you to stay in your room until you are sure it is over, and then you can join us for a few minutes. After that, we will need some privacy to …err, talk; so I want you to go to bed early. Does that sound like a fair compromise?”

Karen smiled and hugged her father, “Yes, thank you Daddy.” “OK,” Ed ordered, “then it’s time for you to get to your bedroom, and Jenny; you had better follow your daughter so you can borrow that hairbrush from her.” The girl and the lady left the room.

Shortly later, Jenny timidly returned with the hairbrush in her hand. Ed took her by the arm and led her into his bedroom.

Ed sat on the edge of his bed, stood his woman in front of him, took the hairbrush, and laid it behind him. “Anything we need to talk about before we start?” he asked. Looking him straight in the eye, she shook her head “no”, and then changed her mind. “Just…just remember that I’m not particularly fragile Ed. It is OK to do a good job. I promise not to be mad at you.” “That is a brave thing to say.” Ed said with true admiration in his voice. “Let’s get you ready and then get it done.”

He reached up and unbuttoned her Jacket, helped her shrug out of it, and then carefully folded it and placed it on a chair. Next he fumbled at a single button and finally unzipped her skirt, which dropped to reveal a filmy slip that he had never seen before. The skirt was actually a new experience for him, usually she wore pants. As before, he carefully folded the skirt and placed it on the chair. He felt just a bit guilty to be enjoying Jenny’s unveiling, but then he rationalized “why not?” She was a beautiful woman and she was definitely his, so why should he not enjoy getting her naked? Starting at the bottom button, he unbuttoned her blouse and helped her out of it. This, he placed on the back of the chair.

Now he returned for the slip. It fastened with three snaps. It dropped to the floor, finally revealing her frilly panties. He spun his finger in the air & she obediently turned around so that he could undo her bra. As it fell from her breasts, she caught it and tossed it to the chair. With her still facing away, Ed reached down to her waist and lowered her panties, revealing her soon-to-be-red bottom cheeks. He planted a kiss on each nether cheek and then lowered the panties all the way to the floor, holding them while she stepped out. He left the slip and panties on the floor.

In a new businesslike tone of voice, Ed demanded, “OK, now tell me exactly why you are being spanked.” Jenny stammered out a reasonable explanation. “I guess that’s good enough.” He agreed judiciously. “You may put yourself into position.” With her heart pounding and her stomach flipping furiously, Jenny obeyed, putting herself across her fiancée’s lap.

Ed massaged both of Jenny’s nether cheeks, as if taking their measure to decide how much punishment they could truly take. When the spanking finally started, it started with spanks that were barely more than love taps, spanks that barely stung. Jenny squirmed at the sensation. Ed took his time, gradually dialing up the strength of the spanks until he was painting a delicate pink blush on her slightly tanned buttocks. Though she remained quiet, Jenny’s squirms became a bit more pronounced.

When he was finally satisfied that he had spanked an even blush over Jenny’s entire bottom, Ed finally started applying more force to his spanks. Now the “pops” from Ed’s hand landing on Jenny’s unprotected bottom were finally loud enough to carry into Karen’s bedroom. Jenny squealed just a bit, but then bit her lip and forced herself to remain silent a while longer.

At last Ed started seriously ratcheting up the force. Jenny was still not making loud noises, but her shoulders were shaking from barely audible sobs. Now that his spanks were finally having a noticeable effect on Jenny, Ed slowed the pace just a bit, giving him a chance to judiciously aim each blow.

Finally, Ed decided that Jenny’s “warm up” was over. He knew that Jenny was teetering on an emotional edge, barely in control. Her bottom was a nice even shade of red from just below her waist to just above her sit-spot. Now it was time for the “real” spanking to start.

Speeding up his spanks, but keeping the same “fairly hard” force, Ed moved his target area down to Jenny’s hitherto untouched sit-spot and upper thighs. He received an instant response to his efforts. Jenny first tried to twist, splaying her legs, and then her right hand automatically came back in a vain attempt to protect her bottom. Expecting that move, Ed simply grabbed her hand and gently but firmly held it in the small of her back in classic OTK style. Now Ed’s spanks moved higher up into more familiar territory, where he finally allowed himself to apply full-force spanks. Her self-control finally spent, Jenny finally wailed her anguish. Now Karen could easily hear the progress of Jenny’s punishment.

Not much later, Jenny’s entire bottom had been spanked to a brilliant red. Jenny had finally given up all semblance of self-control. In fact, she felt like somebody who had been thoroughly spanked. Unfortunately for her, she still was being “warmed up” for the main event, the hairbrush.

Sitting in her bedroom, Karen heard the spanking peak briefly in ferocity and then suddenly stop. For a few moments, Jenny remained in full voice, even though the spanks had obviously stopped. From previous, unhappy, experience Karen could guess exactly what was happening, her father was reaching for the hairbrush!

Ed brandished the hairbrush. “OK Jenny, now you will feel your REAL punishment and then this will finally be over. Remember what this is all about. Do you have that in your head Jenny? Do you remember why you are being spanked?” It took a moment for the question to sink in to Jenny’s overloaded brain, but finally she nodded. Ed decided that given Jenny’s condition that was as good an answer as he was going to get, so he resumed Jenny’s spanking, this time with the hairbrush.

Jenny howled in pain and thrashed and twisted with amazing strength, managing to momentarily hide her bottom from the brush. Ed paused, admonished her to get back into position, and then resumed his duty. After the first hairbrush stroke, Jenny was again howling in full voice. She obviously was struggling to keep herself in position, but after a mere dozen spanks, Jenny again managed to break loose from Ed’s restraining grip and twist her bottom back out of range.

What followed was bit of a struggle, but Ed eventually prevailed. Before the spanking was over, Ed had had to stop and reposition Jenny several times. He was not mad at her, her was certain the Jenny was doing her best to hold position, it was just that she was much stronger than Karen, so spanking her was a very different experience. On the other hand, Jenny’s spanking would have been over much quicker and probably with fewer spanks, if she had just been able to be more cooperative.

Finally Jenny’s punishment was over except for the final spanks. By now, Jenny was nearly spent. Her struggles were not nearly so formidable, and the volume of her yelps and cries was diminishing. Ed did not rush this last part. He wanted to “brand” his lady’s bottom in a way that she would be sure to feel for the next few days, but he also wanted to do so carefully so as not to risk injury to her.

He started with several carefully calibrated hairbrush strokes to each sit spot, with a pause between each stroke so that he could judge its effect. Then he used a series of lighter strokes to work on her upper thighs, just below the sit spots. Finally, he closely inspected his work, adding “touchup” strokes here and there, to get little spots that he had missed. Finally he declared the job done, and laid the hairbrush down on the bed.

He did not immediately release the blubbering lady, but instead rubbed her back and massaged her shoulders as she gradually regained awareness and control.

In her bedroom, Karen had listened to Jenny’s entire ordeal. She heard the spanking start and stop several times, so it was hard for her to know when it was finally over. When two full minutes went by without hearing any new spanks (she actually watched the sweep second hand on her alarm clock) Karen walked out of her bedroom and timidly knocked on her father’s bedroom door. True to his word, he called her in.

She found Jenny still across her father’s knees, her shoulders shaking with sobs, her bottom bright red and mottled. Although she had been able to tell by the sound of the spanks that Jenny’s was “getting it” on her bare bottom, she was slightly surprised to find Jenny totally naked. “OK let’s help her up” Ed said. Together, they carefully set the still-sobbing lady on her feet. Ed held her lightly under her arms until he was sure that she had her balance. Jenny did a typical little ‘spank dance” and then clutched her bottom, which caused a new wave of crying. Finally, she collapsed into the arms of her future husband and daughter. As Jenny and Ed hugged her and kissed her wet face, Jenny shed her last tears and gradually returned to her normal self. “God that hairbrush hurts!” she exclaimed, Then she turned to Karen. “Your bottom must have felt just like that after I spanked you for nothing; how could you possibly forgive me?” “I did and that’s all that matters” Karen replied. “And now your punishment is over, so we can forget the whole thing.”

“Thank you Karen, I love you and I will never forget this.” Jenny enthused, pulling Karen into her bare breasts. At that, Jenny suddenly remembered that she was naked. Both Ed and Karen could see the lady’s embarrassment. Karen spoke up first, “Err, Jenny, you need some lotion on the bottom. Why don’t you lay down on the bed and I will get it for you. Still wet-faced, Jenny agreed and laid herself face-down on the bed, while Ed placed a pillow under her head. Karen ran to the master bath, retrieved the jar of aloe cream, and brought it into the bedroom.. Reaching for the cream Ed thanked his daughter and suggested, “Give Jenny a last kiss and I will spread the cream. You go get some sleep. I promise to take good care of Jenny for you.” Understanding that her father’s suggestion was really a polite command, Karen reluctantly obeyed, disappearing into her bedroom for the night.

Predictably, Jenny jumped as Ed smeared a cold blob of cream onto each hot buttock. But then she squirmed in pleasure as Ed gently smoothed the soothing balm over her inflamed derrière. As Ed rubbed, Jenny gradually noticed a welcome effect, the pain in her bottom gradually dissolved, but was replaced by a delightful tingling is a slightly different place. When Jenny’s “squirms” began to look more like pelvic thrusts, Ed allowed one finger to stray between her legs and found a telltale dampness. Encouraged, Ed followed the dampness to its source, and was quickly rewarded by a groan from Jenny. Moments later, Ed had managed to discard his clothing and, with Jenny’s eager assistance, entered her from behind. The sex that followed, was somewhat brief and athletic, but was uniquely satisfying to both of them.

When their heart rates finally returned to normal, the couple kissed & cuddled, and then finally snuggled & snoozed. Their repeat performance later that night was more gentle, more conventional, but no less satisfying. The third session just before Ed’s alarm was due to go off was the ‘icing on the cake”. It was the first full night the couple had ever spent together, and the first night Jenny had ever spent in Ed & Karen’s house.

The couple took a quick shower together, and then went out to prepare breakfast for themselves and Karen. When Karen saw Jenny wearing one of her father’s bathrobes, she seemed pleased, but not surprised to see that Jenny had obviously spent the night. Instantly Karen realized, this was the opening she had been waiting for!

Jenny bustled back and forth setting the table for the three. When Ed and Karen sat down to eat, Jenny busied herself in the kitchen, leaving her breakfast untouched. Finally, Ed called her to the table, but she seemed reluctant. Finally Ed insisted that she sit down. Gingerly, Jenny finally did, but winced when her bottom touched the chair. She blushed prettily when Ed and Karen gave her knowing grins. “It will be better in a day or two” Ed assured her.

Now Karen saw her chance. With a mixture of teenaged impatience and wisdom beyond her years, Karen asked, “It’s only four weeks before you two get married; why doesn’t Jenny move in now? What’s the point in waiting?” “What would people think?” Jenny exclaimed. With a fake sarcasm that only teens can manage properly, Karen replied, “Duuuhhh! They would think that you two were in love and wanted to be together? What’s wrong with that?” “It just isn’t done” Ed replied. “People would talk, and it just isn’t worth it.”

Karen moved smoothly to “Plan B”.

“OK”, perhaps you’re right, but I need a complete set of parents, and you two obviously love each other, so you are elected. It’s Friday; let’s all three “play hooky” from school and work. We could get you two legally married at the courthouse, and then spend the rest of the weekend moving Jenny out of her apartment. You can be together, and you can still have your church wedding next month just like you planned.

Jenny looked at Ed. Ed looked at Jenny. “The girl makes sense,” Jenny remarked. “Yes, she does,” Ed agreed.

That day, a new family was born.

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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

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