Riding the 4×4

“Oh, my head!” I moan as the beams of sun poke my eyes. Even with my eyes closed the world seems to be a blaze of light. Of that awful bright light. Why am I being punished? Oh, yea, last night and the bonfire. A queasiness down below told me the bathroom was an immediate need.

I throw back the sheet covering me and stumble into the hall towards the bathroom. The door’s open, good! A few more steps and I’m praying at the porcelain god. I hate dry heaves. There wasn’t really anything left to come up, but stomach didn’t care.

“Bets, you ok?” I heard from behind me.

I spit out as much of the disgusting taste before collapsing against the wall. Jamie, is standing over me, already dressed. How can she look so…so… fine? Didn’t she drink more than me last night?

“Here, sip on this and you’ll feel better in no time,” she tells me as she hands over a bottle of lemon-lime Gatorade. I pop it open and it tastes wonderful. The nausea had covered up my cottonmouth. I took another big gulp trying to get ride of the awful feeling.

“Slow or you’ll just puke it back up,” She warned.

“Thanx,” I say before laying an arm on the edge of a tub and resting my head on it. The room was moving a little too much at the moment for me to do much more.

“Oh, and Mom called. They are coming home today and should be here by 6. Sheriff Williams called them.” Jaime added before leaving me to rest.

Sheriff Williams meant goodbye bikini. There was no way I was wearing a swimsuit for at least a week, even if Mom would let me go anywhere. Maybe a little nap and this will all be a bad dream. Yea, just a bad dream.

—-

My second awakening was much better than the first. I could still feel the bass pounding out its rhythm in my head, but 100% less nausea made up for it. Just about anything is better than puking.

I sat up in bed and swung by legs over the edge to find my room still filled with that awful light. The bane of all hangovers. The blurriness though was not due to the hangover. I snatched up my glasses from the night stand. Today is not a contact day. Slipping the glasses on, I realize the room is even blurrier. I then realize I still have my disposable contacts in. A couple stumbles to the dresser, eye drops and my contacts are safely deposited in the trash. My glasses now return the world to high definition.

I scoop up the crumbled bathrobe laying behind my door and make my way downstairs. Jordan is a sleep on couch while Jaime is cleaning the kitchen.

“Good morning,” I mumble on my way to the coffee pot.

“Morning? 3 o’clock. Mom and Dad will be home in a couple of hours,” Jaime said without looking up from the pan she was scrubbing.

“Aren’t they supposed to be coming back tomorrow?”

“Sheriff Williams called Dad this morning, so they are coming home today!” Jamie s

“Fuck.” I sighed. “Let me get some coffee and I’ll get Jordan and Breanne up.” I started a fresh pot. I needed the caffeine and my sisters probably needed it also. Food would also be important. I doubted I would really want to eat dinner, even if we were allowed. I opened the fridge to find nothing interesting. Cereal would do. I probably ate too much last night anyways. I definitely drank too much and even light beer has way too many calories.

“Once you get finished, go wake up Jordan and Breanne and have them clean the rest of the house. You get the front yard mowed and I’ll come out to help with the garden when I’m done here,” Jaime commanded.

“Hopefully it buys us a little good will,” I said, not really believing a word of it. Goodwill goes a long way with our parents for little things, but not something like this. Thought maybe it’ll make Mom feel guilty after a week or so of our grounding and let us play while Dad is at work.

I woke Jordan from her slumber, offering a cup of coffee and our impending doom. She had half the mug gone before caffeine started turning the wheels in her head at full speed. Well full speed for her is like half speed for the rest of us. The ditzy blonde still got that party plus sheriff plus dad equaled doom. I was tempted to spell it out like that when I saw the light blub go on in her head.

I instructed Jordan to clean the living room, family room and dinning room while I went to find Breanne. Luckily she was still firmly planted in bed. Her golden locks seem to form a halo around her head. She looked so angelic. So peaceful. So innocent. She didn’t have the Jordan’s beauty, my brains or Jamie’s dynamic personality, but she did have a way of manipulating just about everyone. I think it is really her baby face, which was exaggerated when she dyed her hair the summer before she started high school. I had to vouch for her being an actual freshman to our homeroom teacher on the first day because he thought she was a kid. I would hate everyone thinking I was 13, but she likes it.

She actually likes it so much, she decorated her bedroom like a Barbie palace. I’m not talking the kiddie version where there are images of Barbie everywhere. No, her room is pink with shades of red, white and a few lavenders. It looks like a giant version of the Barbie’s bedroom from the toy house. Sickening, but I guess one of us four had to be a girly girl.

“Come on, you gotta get up,” I poked her a few times.

“I don’t wanna,” she mumbled before trying to hit me with pillow. Luckily the coffee cup was in my hand away from the bed, otherwise she may have gotten a hot surprise.

“I don’t care, and I doubt Mom and Dad will care when they get home in an hour.” Yes, we probably had at least 2 hours, but hyperbolas work well in motivating Breanne.

“So..” she mumbled.

“Remember what happened last night?”

A grumbled indicated she knew want I meant. I sat the coffee on her nightstand. “Here’s some coffee. You have the bathrooms and upstairs to clean before they get home.”

“Yes MOM!” she said sardonically. A tone I never heard her actually say to mom, just Jamie and I. Whatever, I had to get changed and get mowing asap. Also I can’t forget the allergy medicine. I may like hunting, fishing and all the other outdoors stuff, but my allergies prefer a nice climate controlled environment.

It was actually a really nice day. A few light, fluffy clouds dotted the sky. Cirrus clouds if I remember earth science class correctly. At least I’d improve my tan some while I mowed. I may be a tomboy, but I still know guys appreciate a good tan. A camisole and cutoffs was as much skin I risked showing because we had gotten no word from Mom or Dad about their ETA. Dad doesn’t really like his girls in bikinis, and I don’t care to poke an angry bear.

The mowing took forever and a day. Even the highest gear wasn’t fast enough. Though I don’t know if I wanted time to go any faster. Around and around I rode, thinking up every horrible punishment known to man. Well, not known to man, but rather, every horrible punishment two loving, caring parents may impart upon their adult daughters. A couple made me shutter so much I had to back up and re-mow a few spots.

I was just starting the trim work when Jamie lead Jordan and Breanne out to the garden. It needed a quick weeding and the fresh veggies needed to be picked; both tasks Mom normally performed. Actually, everything we did in the last couple of hours were tasks Mom normally did around the house. Mom or us, but not Dad. We probably should have targeted Dad’s tasks instead of Mom’s. It was too late now.

Mom and Dad pulled the pickup in as I was coming back from putting away the lawn mower. Time was up. A few quick loads of stuff was all that stood between us and our reckoning. I glanced over at the garden to see Jamie prodding our younger siblings toward the truck. Don’t they realize that delaying in the garden would achieve nothing.

“That’s the last load. Just go wait for your father in the living room.” Mom told Jordan and I as she rounded the edge of the porch. Jordan and I hung our heads low as we walked to the living room. Jaime and Breanne were already there, waiting nervously. Jaime seemed contend on accepting her fate, while Breanne was mumbling something to herself. No doubt she was trying to devise an exit strategy. I bet it would involve using Jamie and I as scape goats.

I played with my fingernails as the tension built. The logic side was trying to tell the emotional side exactly want was going to happened and that I would survive it, but emotions just don’t listen. They love to go to extremes. Every horrible thing I thought up while mowing was coming back with a vengeance. We would be spanked, belted, switched, grounded and have our mouth’s washed out with soap. Jamie and I would get it doubly bad because we supplied the alcohol, or at least allowed them to consume it. It was really more Jamie and my faults.

“A party!” Dad stated. He never yelled when he was mad, just forcefully stated. I think he admired Teddy Roosevelt’s “Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick” policy. Though he never carried a big stick, just the occasional small ones. “With the Cops being called?”

“Daddy, it was all a misunderstanding,” Jordan cried.

“I don’t want to hear. Each of you go cut a switch then I better see four very contrite girls lined up on the porch!” Dad stated, shaking his head in disappointment. I could feel the pain he felt in my chest. There was nothing worst than disappointing Dad. I mean he protected and gave us girls so much, and never asked for much in return. Unlike Mom, he didn’t even care if we where perfect ladies or not. He just wanted us to try our best, respect others, and honor and cherish family, God and country.

The decree though had been made and there was no backing out of it. We would be Ridding the 4×4 as we jokingly called it when all four of us sisters got spanked together. We now just had to provide the four switches and four bare bottoms, which multiplied together was 16 times the punishment.

Walking outside I noticed the trees were full of singing birds. They were singing our funeral song. I started putting words to their melodies as Jamie lead the way to the stand of trees behind the barn.

“There goes four naughty girls
Off to fetch a switch
Each one sorry for their deeds
but not as sorry as they’ll be!”

Did you know in prisons, the Green Mile, that stretch from a death row inmate’s cell to the execution chamber is often only 50 feet. The courts probably deem the 100 yards we have to go to cut a switch cruel and unusual punishment.

The grove a trees behind the barn isn’t very big, but dense enough that you can’t easily see through it. Firewood is stacked between two of the larger trees while young saplings dotting the underbrush. These young saplings are our target. A branch as thick as one’s thumb and as long as one’s arm is the requirement.

We each choose an appropriate branch, or entire new sapling in Breanne’s case, and used the Swiss army knife to cut it off and clean the excess sprouts. Haste was important, because Dad only provided us so much time to complete the chore, thought he never set an exact number. Just ‘be quick about it.’ He reinforced the message to Jamie and I the summer after I graduated high school when got to go over his knee before we got the switch. Not something I ever planned on repeating.

Four sisters, heads hung low, shuffled on back to the house, a short, flexible branch in each’s hands. Four former saplings, a sign of vitality and growth, were presented to their father to help them grow out of their youthful mischief. Four naughty girls lined up, waiting for instructions. It seems more like an except from a classic novel than our reality.

“Lower then loop your panties around the banister,” Dad instructed. I hooked my thumbs into my waistband then knelt down as I lowered them to my ankles. I stepped out of the right leg hole. Looping your panties meant looping your panties around one of the porch’s railing supports the stepping back into them, effectively locking your feet together and close to the railing. It prevented us from kicking, and vulgar displays towards Dad, though oddly still left our front visible to anyone in the backyard. I looped my panties around a banister then stepped back into them and stood up, holding the railing as I went up for support. It was an awkward movement that I had way too much practice at.

Dad always started with the youngest first, so I had two sisters to wait through before I got any attention. Waiting to be spanked is always the worst. Its especially when you 22, standing half naked on your porch waiting to be switched.

Breanne was crying before the first stroke landed. She always cried before being spanked. Maybe she thought it would cause Mom or Dad to have pity on her. I’m sure it didn’t work with Mom, but not so sure about Dad. When I saw Mom spank her a few months ago, I swear it was longer and harder than when Mom spanked the rest of us. Well, not me, but Jamie and Jordan. I couldn’t tell with Dad, since he only spanked when more than one of us was up for it and I was always waiting for my turn next to Breanne.

Dad finished the first set with Breanne and my own spanking came closer. One more bottom before mine would be graced with that evil switch. It would be all tenderized by the time it got to me, encouraging it to provide more sting.

I bit my lower lip as the flurry of strokes caused Jordan to cry out. Almost my turn. Almost my cries. Almost.

Two taps to my back prompted me to bend forward. I reached low, taking a hold of the uprights just above my panties. I had two choices of views; the flowerbed filled with wild rose bushes or between my legs. I choose neither, screwing my eyes shut instead.

The first swipe didn’t sting much. More than I had remembered, but not too much. The next burst of swipes though stung exponentially more with each swipe. “Owee owee owwee!” I cried as the sting hit a crescendo with last swat. I blinked back the initial onslaught of tears while wiggling to and fro, trying to dissipate the sting. Why couldn’t the wind blow a little bit? A cool breeze would help the sting some.

Jamie gave more of a low moan with her first dose. It took her more than just to get to the crying stage, but she would reach it.

Dad returned to Breanne and lectured her some. My attention was firmly focused on the my bottom until her cries for forgiveness perched the evening air as Dad broke that first switch across her bottom. It was standard Dad spanking protocol. A little bit for each naughty daughter, then a whole bunch for one, then again a little for each before a whole bunch for the next daughter. Getting spanked with a switch is one thing. One horrible, stingy punishment, but this roller coaster ride of sting is plain torture. Every new round would send the sting to all new highs.

With my face down and bottom up, the only thing I could do was to focus on my breathing. Slow, steady breaths through my mouth helps distract during these little interludes. The tears had stopped and the sting had just started to level off when the second round arrived.

Jordan cried out immediately. There is a point during every spanking where you give up your dignity and just accept it. Jordan had made the leap and there was no going back for her.

WHACK! “Ouch!” The first stroke took me by surprise. A narrow ban of pain striping by backside. I clenched my jaw as the following set of strokes built upon the first set. White knuckles held me firmly on the top of the rail, even when I tried to kick my legs about. The kicking was in vain because a pair of cotton panties does not tear easily. I’d tried though many times on this porch. Many more than I care to remember.

Dad moved onto Jamie as fast as he’d moved onto me, but I didn’t even notice. The million bee stings had not stopped. Shaking and wiggling wouldn’t scare them away. Logically I knew time was the only real cure the sting, but come on, who is logical in my situation.

I could hear Breanne let out her typical high pitch wails when Dad started in on her and then the progressive stronger and stronger cries coming from Jordan. I stole a glance at her to gently shaking her head as the tears flooded from her squished eyes. The hair clip popped, closing a blonde curtain around her face. I’d look like that in a moment, though brown hair instead of blonde.

Dad granted my projection sooner than I’d have wished. The first few strokes with the fresh switch burned like hell. I swear it was cutting into my cheeks with every stroke. Deeper and deeper until it suddenly stopped. I tried to control my breath a little before it returned. “I can do this, I can do this,” I kept mouthing. I can be brave and take my punishment like a big girl without crying like a baby. I’d made it this far, I could do all the way.

WAHCK! WHACK! WHACK! The switch had returned and returned with vengeance. “No more! Sniff Please! I’ll be good! SNIFF I promise! Pleasse! Please! Please!” I cried, praying the switch would break quickly, but it never did. I finally gave up all resolve and just hollered. I hollered in pain. I hollered my sorrow. I hollered anything and everything I thought would make it stop. I didn’t want to be punished anymore. It wasn’t worth it. There was no party worth this. I’d never do it again. NEVER EVER! This was…was…was what I deserved.

The switch had covered from the top of my cheeks to midway down my thighs and every part in between when it finally broke in two. Two parts that Dad tossed on my bunched shorts and panties. Two pieces I’d get to look at until Dad finished, had I dare open my eyes.

I just sobbed continuously until Dad had finished with all of us. Even his final set of strokes with Jamie’s switch didn’t change my state much. Maybe an octave higher in my cries, but I had nothing left. No resistance, no pride, no naughtiness, just contrition.

“Well, I think you’ve learned a lesson today. You girls can go stand against the wall for a while and think about why you needed to learn a lesson,” Dad grumbled then I heard the screen door open and he was gone.

Dad had always let us do this part on our own. His only expectation were the naughty girls facing the side of the house when he came out later. Nothing else mattered. Not how fast we got up, nor our state of dress. Those were good things because I didn’t want to move for few minutes and those damn panties were not returning anywhere close to their correct position anytime soon.

One foot out of my panties and I was released from my induced prison. The three steps to the side of the house would hurt, but I could do it. And once I got there, I could sneak a rub or two. Mom and Dad wouldn’t see. I hoisted myself up, before dragging my shorts and panties still hooked around my left ankle. Tiny steps and I was to the safety of the wall.

I don’t quite understand why some girls complain so much about corner-time. I find a peaceful reprieve from the whole hustle and bustle of a normal day. I time I can just finally relax. Because right now everything was gone. All the stress, the tension, the guilt. It was all gone. Washed away with the tears. And not regular tears, but tears of a spanking. The kind unlike any other kind. The kind that bring sorrow, forgiveness, and lasting lessons.

“You girls ok?” Dad asked, coming back outside. I couldn’t tell you how long he had been inside, but it didn’t matter.

“Yes,” we mumbled, turning slightly to look over our left shoulders. It must be a sight to see four half naked women with red swollen butts looking over their back over their shoulder.

“I spoke Sheriff Williams and he said no charges are going to be filed against any of you kids,” Dad stated. Good thing, because I am sure none of us wanted to spend tomorrow morning sitting on that wooden bench outside of his chambers.

“I’m sorrryy dadddy,” I cried, hugging him along with my sisters.

“I know girls, I know. But please, avoid mischief with the law. If you want to get in trouble, you know many perfectly legal ways.”

Willow Groove – Swimming with the Lee Twins

I do not quite have the next chapter of Amber’s Rush Week done yet, so I’ve included another story of the residents of Willow Groove.

6:50pm July 27th 2002

The summer heat was still as fierce as ever. Summer does not last long in Willow Groove, but it does come with a vengeance about the time fireworks light up the sky. The heat quenched all activity that didn’t involve the cool mountain streams and lakes.

John Lee stepped out of the silver Silverado 2500. A fluttering of a bird could be heard off in the woods. Shielding his eyes from the low sun, John glanced looking for the kids. There was a few bags sitting over by a tree, but no other signs of life. Hmmm, where were his daughters at? He meandered on down towards the river.

“Lucy! Laura!” John yelled for the twins. He just made it over the edge of the short ridge when he noticed the clothes. A dozen piles of clothes lined the river bank. What where the kids up to? John thought. Then he saw the two heads bobbing in the river. “Hey girls, come on, let’s go. Your mother was starting dinner when I left,” he yelled.

“Hi Daddy, ok, we’ll be there in a minute. We’ll meet you at the truck.” Lucy yelled back. If Dad went back over the ridge, she and Laura could make it to their clothes, get dressed and back without him being any wiser.

“Oh it’s ok.”  John looked upwards at the white puffs of cloud dotting the blue sky. “I might as well enjoy the day while I’m up here.”

The girls looked at each other and slowly swam towards shore, being sure to keep just their heads above the water line. They both were trying to figure out a way out of this predicament. Their clothes were in matching piles, 10 feet from their father.

“What do we do?” Laura asked Lucy quietly.

“I don’t know. I was hopping my suggestion of going back to the truck would work.” Lucy replied.

At 5 feet from the shore, their hands began scraping against the bottom. Their father had turned around as he stared upwards, so his back was towards the girls. “Run for it?” Laura whispered, trying to stay submerged. Lucy just nodded. The girls stood up, using one arm to cover their breast while the other cupped their pelvic area. They made it half way before their Dad realized they were out of the water and spun around to face his little girls running towards him in their birthday suits. They both frozen in their tracks.

“What the hell are you doing?” John yelled. His little angels had been skinny dipping.

“We were swimming, Daddy!” Laura pleaded as she could feel her face turn beat red.

“Naked!? That is no way for young ladies to be swimming!” John said.

“But Daddy, we are adults. we can swim how we want.” Lucy attempted to be as forceful with her statement she could, but there is only so much confidence a naked 20 year old girl can have while standing before her father.

“You are still my daughters, and I can punish you how I want!” John growled as he strode forward and took a hold of the girl’s forearms. A few tugs and the twins were quickly closing the distance to the pickup.

“Daddy, what about our clothes?” Lucy asked reaching for a few pieces of modesty.

John released the girls and gave each a solid smack to each girls’ behind. “I’ll get the clothes, you get those butts over the tailgate NOW!” The twins scampered up the to truck as fast as they could make the climb. The sticks and stones hurt their feet, but neither thought that would matter much in a few moments. John reached down and picked up the two piles of clothes with one hand and pulled out his knife with the other.

Laura lowered the tailgate on the back of the pickup. She took one last look at Lucy, knowing they both were doomed. Both girls had to stand on their toes to get their waist up on the edge of the tailgate. The both laid on their arms, to give some protection to their breats and prevent them from falling into the crack between the tailgate and the truck bed.

John took his time returning to the truck. He had stopped by a willow tree to cut two, 3/4 inch wide branches off. Maybe this will teach the girls to think before do something dumb.

“Daddy please, we are sorry!” Lucy cried when their father got up behind them.

“Reallly soorrrryyyy!” Laura added.

“No, not as much as you will be. What were you two thinking, skinny dipping? Didn’t you both get three new bathing suits this year? I’m disappointed in you two. You both know better.” John’s voice shifted from anger to sadness.

“Sorry Daddyyy! We won’t do it again!” Both girls cried in unison.

“I know your sorry, but I’m still going to spank you. These switches should work.”

Swish! “AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH” Lucy screamed out. The branch cut deep into the high fleshy part of her bottom. All the little stubs bit beside the band of fire laid upon her wet behind.

Swish! “AHHHHHEEEEEE!” Laura echoed her sister as the switch repeated it’s task upon her upturned behind.

John worked back and forth between the bottoms, exciting a new cry with stroke of the switch. It took only three strokes before they were kicking their legs about wildly. It took 27 strokes before the first switch broke over butt. John tossed off the broken branch and wiped the sweat from his brow.

The girl’s continually cried as the fire just built. They both thought it might be over when the first switch broke, but Laura was quickly corrected when a new line of fire cut low on her butt. A new set of screams where heard as the second switch went to work. This one only made it 21 strokes, but that was enough to cover both girl’s behinds with red and purple welts.

“Put up the tailgate then get in the truck!” John commanded as he tossed the broken switch away and headed for the cab. The twins pushed themselves up off the tailgate and instantly started rubbing their butts. Lucy finally got up the tailgate then followed Laura around to the passenger’s side. They rode in the backseat, kneeling side by side, still as naked as the day they were born.

They arrived home to find their mother just finishing dinner. John pulled into the garage and shut the door.

“Daddy, can get our clothes back?” Lucy pleaded as her father got out of the truck.

“Ask your mother,” was the only thing as he went in the house.

Grace Lee was standing in front of the stove stirring the chicken dish as her two naked daughters waddled into the kitchen. “Why aren’t you two wearing clothes?” Grace gasped upon seeing her daughters.

“Dad wouldn’t give them back,” Laura answered.

“Why would your father have your clothes?” Grace asked knowing the answer wouldn’t be good.

“Well….we were…kinda…swimming and Dad startled us,” Lucy stammered.

“You were skinny dipping?” Grace asked.

“Yeaa,” the girls answered together looked contritely down at the floor. Grace pulled the girls, face first over the kitchen table, exposing their purplish butts.

“I see your father didn’t approve. Well I don’t either.” She reached over for a the bottle of menthol oil sitting next to the table. “I think this will help you remember the importance of your modesty.”

She poured a little bit on Lucy’s left cheek then began to work it around with her hand. “Ouch, owwwe, ahhh, estttts sniff AHHHHHHHHHH! IT BURNS! Lucy cried out.

Grace added more oil then worked it around the other cheek, between the cheeks and down between their legs. When she got done, she let Lucy up. “Go get an old bathing suit for both of you then get right back here! And no rubbing!” She commanded as she went to work on Laura’s behind.

Laura took it even worst than Lucy; eliciting the same cries of mercy, but also bucking around considerably more. Grace ended up giving her half a dozen hand spanks to ‘settle’ her back down.

Lucy returned with two old bikini bathing suits, still unaware what her mom wanted them for. Grace laid the bottoms on the table next to Laura then poured some of the oil suits, completely covering the crotch and back portions. Once the oil soaked in, she handed a bottom to each girl. “You can wear these for the rest of the weekend.” The girls reluctantly pulled the bottoms up their legs and over the tender flesh. The fire from the oil hadn’t let up yet, encouraging their bottoms to wiggle about. Grace then handed over the matching tops. “Put these on then get a t-shirt. I expect you both back here in 2 minutes to set the table.”

The girls scampered off to their room, covering their breasts with the bathing suit top with one hand while pulling back the bottom off their behinds. Grace washed the reminents of the oil off her hands before removing dinner from the stove. “Skinny dipping! Wow.” Grace mumbled under her breath. “For how smart they are, they sure do some dumb stuff.”

Laura appeared in an old high school t-shirt about a minute and a half later. “Where’s Lucy?” Grace asked.

“Ah, I think she went to the bathroom.” Laura replied, keeping up as much of her ‘I’m a repentent little girl’ look as possible.

Grace closed her eyes briefly and shook her head a little. “One day she’ll learn,” she thought. “Well get the table set. The tell your father that dinner is ready,” Grace told Laura.

Lucy appeared just as Laura left to get their father. “I said 2, not 10 minutes.” Grace said as the last dish was set on the table.

“I had to go to the bathroom,” Lucy said in a softer but higher pitch voice than normal.

“And wash your bottom?” Grace asked. Lucy instinctively started to blush a little more.

“No,” She lied. A fresh tear trickled down the right side of her face.

“You know better than to lie to me!” Grace said forcefully. Just then Laura returned with John in tow. “You to start go ahead and start, Lucy and I need to talk.” Grace ushered her daughter back to the kitchen. John took his usual seat at the head of the table, while Laura attempted sit down on only the mid-part of her thighs then braced herself up with the table. The odd, and slightly uncomfortable position allowed her to keep the major portion of her rear end off the seat, while appearing to sit. It was an acrobatic maneuver both girls had perfected over the years. They always seemed to get spanking before dinner, rather than afterwards.

Laura could hear some muffled voices from the kitchen followed by the water running and a little rustling. She took some rice and green beans and chicken, mostly at the instance of her father. She was just bringing the first bite to her mouth when she heard a low swish then a muffled cry. The sound made her jump a little, dropping the food back to her plate.  She instantly knew what was happening in the kitchen, and was thoroughly glad she hadn’t joined Lucy in the bathroom.

The muffled swishes and cries continued at a good pace for the next five minutes. Every cry was a little louder than the previous one, causing Laura cringe a little bit each time. She still managed to get through half of her bowl before her mother returned to the dinning room, sans Lucy.

“Lucy decided to skip dinner and just go straight to bed once she finishes the dishes. Laura, you can join her once you wash these dishes.” Grace said to Laura. “So honey, how was your day?”

Laura just kinda sat there in silence while her parents carried on a typical dinner conversation. She ate, even though she had no appetite. After 25 minutes, her parents finally finished, allowing her to clear the table and wash the few remaining dishes. Lucy had returned to their room well before dinner finished. Bending over the sink caused the bikini bottoms to pull against Laura’s bottom, inciting a fresh burn now there. Twisting was even worst, feeling like another stroke was delivered to her bottom. Laura was lightly crying again by the time she finished the dishes and made her way to her room.

Laura found Lucy was laying face down on her own bed, with her bottom pointing up in the air. Laura took the same pose in the other bed.

“I am NEVER skinny dipping again!” Lucy cried to her sister.

“I agree,” Laura echoed. “Mom wash your mouth out with soap for lying?”

“Sniff. Yea, then re-oiled my bottom before using the chopstick on it.”

“Ouch. Sorry sis. I could hear some of your cries from the dinning room.”

“That was with the soap still in my mouth. Halfway through Mom threatened to put some oil inside if I didn’t settle down. I don’t know how that would have helped my wiggling.” Both girls chuckled at the remark before drifting off to sleep. The swimming earlier had drained all their energy. Of course the events since hadn’t helped either.

Implements – the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

This post is not for you purist out there. Those who believe the bare hand is the best and only way to spank a naughty behind. This can be effective, but can also lose its impact as a girl ages. Over time and among various cultures, different tools have been employed to impart a more lasting message to the naughty girl, without causing harm to the spanker. Below is a list of every implement I have ever heard of being used, including the less appropriate ones. Let me know if I missed any.

Implement Impact Description Usable Positions
Bare Hand Light A open palm slapped down onto the bottom. Typically used for minor offenses and in public situations and can be effectively applied through clothes or on bare skin Any – Typically used over the knee
Wooden Hairbrush

Flat hairbrush

Flat hairbrush (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mild The back of a solid wood hair brush is used as a small paddle. Typically used my mothers spanking their daughters because of the easy access while in the girl’s room. Any – Typically used over the knee
Wooden Spoon Mild The back of a solid wooden cooking spoon is used as a small paddle. Typically used my mothers spanking their daughters because of the easy access while in the kitchen. Any – Typically used over the knee
Spatula Mild The blade of plastic or rubber cooking spatula is used as a small paddle. Typically used my mothers spanking their daughters because of the easy access while in the kitchen. Has more of stingy impact than the wooden spoon. Any – Typically used over the knee
Wooden / Plastic Ruler / Paint stirrer Mild A plastic or wooden foot long ruler is used as a small paddle. Typically associated with Catholic Schools and Nuns in America. A paint stirrer is effectively the same implement as a wooden ruler, though lighter in weight. Any – Typically used over the knee
Paddle

Wooden spanking paddle Deutsch: Holz-Paddle (w...

Wooden spanking paddle Deutsch: Holz-Paddle (wird im BDSM und Spanking verwendet) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mild-Heavy A narrow slat of wood has one section cut down into a handle. The broader blade is then applied to the bottom. Often associated with American schools and Greek Fraternities and Sororities. Typically Southern and Rural American implement. Short ones – Any
Longer ones – All standing positions
Ping-Pong / Table Tennis Paddle

Français : ping-pong

Français : ping-pong (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mild The paddle used to play Ping-Pong, Table tennis or associated games. Effectively the same as a hairbrush though often lighter. The different textures can have different effects than a hairbrush when applied directly to bare skin. Any – Typically used over the knee
Spencer Paddle Heavy A larger paddle with wholes drilled in the striking surface to reduce air resistance and increase impact. These wholes often cause welting to occur. All standing positions
Knoppler Paddle Mild-Heavy A smaller squarish paddle were hard leather is used as the striking surface instead of wood. Any
Bath brush Mild-Heavy A variation of the hairbrush with a larger, heavier head and a longer handle. All standing positions
Belt

English: A worn, black leather belt with buckle.

English: A worn, black leather belt with buckle. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mild-Heavy A leather belt is used as a single strand or doubled over then brought down onto the bottom. All standing positions
Strap Heavy A variation of the belt. A single length of leather often the doubled over and sown together. All standing positions
Tawse

Tawse

Tawse (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Heavy A variation of the strap with the blade portion cut into two or more tongues. All standing positions
Cane Heavy A thin long stick, typically made of bamboo or rattan, though any flexible wood works. Often associated with English schools. All standing positions
Slipper Mild A simple house slipper with the leather sole applied to the bottom. All standing positions
Whip Mild-Heavy A long strip of flexible leather, often braided together to create a multiple meter rope. All standing positions
Martinet

A simple, small martinet

A simple, small martinet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mild-Heavy A flat piece of leather with one end cut into multiple stripes. The uncut end is then wrapped around itself and secured to create a handle. The tongs are generally less than 12 inches in length. Traditionally used in French households. Any positions
Flogger Mild-Heavy A heavier, larger version of the Martinet. Any positions
Cat-O-Nine Tails

A leather cat o' nine tails pictured with a U....

A leather cat o’ nine tails pictured with a U.S. dollar bill for size comparison. A U.S. dollar bill is about 6 inches (about 15 cm) long. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Heavy A large heavy version of the Flogger, typically associated with Naval discipline during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. All standing positions
Switch Mild-Heavy A young flexible branch with the sprouts cut off. Used like a temporary cane. All standing positions
Birch Rod Mild-Heavy Multiple switches from the birch or willow tree tied together to strike simultaneously. All standing positions
Coat Hanger Heavy A steel, wood or plastic coat hanger where one shoulder section is held and the other shoulder section is brought down on the bottom. Generally considered abusive. Any
Extension cord Heavy A length of electrical cord used like a short whip. Generally considered abusive and often not effective due to lack of control. All standing positions
Clothes line Mild A length of narrow rope used like a short whip. Generally considered abusive and often not effective due to lack of control. All standing positions
Flyswatter Mild A household flyswatter is swatted onto the bare bottom. Ineffective through clothing do to its light weight. Generally considered abusive and unhygienic. All standing positions
Chop Sticks Mild-Heavy One or two, 18 inch cooking chop sticks are used like mini canes.Generally considered abusive outside of Asian homes. Any
Rubber hose Mild-Heavy A couple feet of narrow rubber hose is looped over and used like a belt. Generally considered abusive. All standing positions
Crop

Français : Cravache. Photographie prise à Miss...

Français : Cravache. Photographie prise à Mississauga, Ontario, Canada. filedesc A 30″ (75cm) riding crop. I, User:OwenX, photographed this on 30 December 2005 in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada using a Fujifilm FinePix F440 digital camera. I am hereby licensing this image to the Wikimedia Foundation in perpetuity under the terms of GFDL. de:Bild:Riding crop.JPG (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Heavy Short stiff whip with a small striking. Typically used by jockeys riding horses, but commonly used in BDSM play. All standing positions