Eyes Larger than Bottom

I grew up with a basketball team. Not literally, but there were 5 of us kids which is enough to form a full squad. We actually played together a couple of times, mostly against our cousins before my older brothers started going off to college. You would think that working a farm wouldn’t require a college degree, but this is the twenty-first century where everything needs a college degree. At least that is how all the guidance counselors always made it seem. I just hope there are more jobs for fresh college grads when I finish in a couple of years.

Growing up on a farm meant I had many rules and chores to do on a regular basis. With three older brothers, my chores were not that difficult and mostly were around the house, but the rules applied equally for my brothers as they did for I or my little sister. Well almost equally, because Dad mostly dealt with my brothers when they got in trouble and Mom dealt with Becky and I. This division of labor worked mostly in Becky and my favor, because during the summers and weekends we would stay outside as much as possible where Dad would let us get away with all things of mischief since he didn’t like punishing his little princesses. It was a stereotype we fit into only when Dad caught us, Mom could care less.

Most of the rules were quite standard for any farm family, like always latching the field gates, making sure tools are put away at night, doing your chores on time, keep up our manners, etc. Oddly we never really had curfews, rather we had to milk the cows at 5am, which meant none of us ever wanted to stay out beyond 10pm. The couple times when there was a school dance or something, we had to tell Mom when we would be home and stick to the time. No big deal.

One of the odder rules involved dinner. Living on a dairy farm, we had ample supply of beef, including steaks, for dinner. When we were young, the rule was Dad got the largest one and then we kids choose the smaller ones. When we reached our teens, the rule shifted to, take which ever you want, but you HAVE to finish what you take. My parents were poor growing up so wasting was a big no-no in my family. I guess the rule was actually not to waste anything someone else could use and food was were it came into play regularly.

So back to my current predicament. I had missed lunch today so when we sat down for dinner, I went straight for the largest steak and a nice big baked potato. When Ryan saw what I did, he raised his eyebrow a little as if to say “are you sure?” I was sure, at that moment. Fifteen minutes later, I wasn’t quite so sure and by 25 I was regretting my choice. Since I had turned 18 I seemed to be having a final growth spurt which meant I could eat constantly and not gain a pound. I know, your jealous. Well this new found hunger, plus no lunch, meant I was extra hungry when we sat down. But it still wasn’t enough to finish the 16 oz sirloin steak, a 6-inch potato and a salad plus some veggies.

Everyone else had finished and I was trying to stuff a little more into my stomach when Mom said “Becky, Rachelle will clear the table before we have a little chat.” I sat down my fork admitting defeat. My stomach was so full it ached.

“OK,” Becky said as she got up from the table, and taking her plate to the kitchen. She gave me look of condulences as she passed me. Mom, Dad and Ryan followed Becky’s lead in clearing their setting, now I needed to clear my setting then put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher.

I pushed back my chair when Ryan re-entered the dinning room. “I’ll finish your extras. Maybe Mom won’t be so upset.” Ryan said as he took my fork and plate. It was a nice gesture, which hopefully would work. I hadn’t technically wasted any food.

I picked up some of the serving dishes and took them into the kitchen. Mom was there fumbling with a few of the leftovers that where still on the stove. I sat the quarter full bowl of green beans on the counter and the dishes with the juices from the steaks into the sink, then went for another trip of dishes.

On my arrival from my fourth, and final trip to the dinning room, Mom was standing next to the sink, waiting for me. Her hands were resting on her hips and ‘your in trouble’ was written all across her face. At least it wasn’t the “I’m disappointed in you” look which would rip my heart out.

“I’m sorry Mom. I really thought I was hungry enough to finish everything, but I just couldn’t. I won’t do it again. Can you just spank me and forgive me?” I blurted out before she could say anything. I hated the lectures Mom would give. I didn’t like spankings either, but the lecture beforehand always seemed to put off the spanking on forever while my anxiety just built and built.

Mom looked at me for a moment, then just nodded towards the breakfast nook. Even though I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, my feet still took little steps over to the table. It was like my body was trying to preserve itself while my mind had clearly accepted its fate. I unbuttoned and pulled down my jeans before leaning over the table to grab the other side. I was hoping Mom would let me keep my panties up. I know, it would probably be the first time, but there’s always a chance.

Mom fished around in the utensil jar for a few moments then came over behind me. I felt her rest her hand on my bottom for a few moments before pulling back and delievering a series of quick spanks spread over both cheeks. They weren’t so bad, since my panties damped some of the sting.

SMACK SMACK SMACK! Mom kept raining down spanks with her hand while she said “Rachelle, you know better than to waste food.”

I bottom was beginning to feel warm as Mom shifted her attention to just one cheek at a time. My right cheek took the brunt of her firepower first. Even through my panties, the sting started to build quickly. I wiggled a little and Mom shifted to the other cheek. It was no time before she had every spank sting like a bee.

And then she stopped all of a sudden. My reprieve only lasted a few seconds before Mom pulled the back of my panties down, rubbing them slowly over my red bottom until they were hanging at mid-tight. The cool air on hot skin suprised me a little.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Mom brought the rubber spatula down hard and fast. I couldn’t stand it anymore and let the tears flow.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! My crying didn’t deter her as she picked up her speed and force. I wiggled by bottom from side to side which just got her to place her left hand on my lower back while she kept tanning my hide. Bending my knee just earned me a few swats to the thigh.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! Every inch was covered with red marks. The top. The sides. The bottom. The oh-so painful crease between cheek and thigh. I just cried on as Mom throughly completed her work.

SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” SPLAT! “Waaaa!” I cried and cried, giving up all my determination to remain strong. The sting was just too wicked.

Then just as sudden as it had started, it was over. I didn’t realize it at the time, because the fire in my rear burned as strong as ever. Mom let go of my back and set the spatula into the sink.

“Come on honey, up you go now.” Mom cooed as she helped me. Those key words released my hands from their iron grip on the table edge, allowing them to fly back to rub my bottom. I buried my teary eyes in her chest as she held me tight. “It’s over now. I love you but be a little more curtious next time.” She let go of me as I started to regain my composure.

“I’m sorry mommy,” I cried wimpered. Why does a spanking turn any girl into a 4 year old? It happens with me. I’ve seen it happen with my sister and girl cousins. It’s like every minute under her mother’s hand, makes a girl act a year, or 4 for that spatula, younger. I’d probably only been over the table for 4-5 minutes, but felt 15 years younger!

“I know honey. Wash all the dishes and put them away then you can go.” Mom said as she motioned to the sink.

I started to slowly step over towards the sink, with my hands still firmly secured to my bottom, when I realized I was bare below the waist. I had to have covered the ten feet to the sink in a second flat. It was the best option to preserve a little of my modesty while dealing with the horrible sting. I heard Mom chuckle at my scamper as she left me alone in the kitchen.

I rubbed for another few minutes, keeping my pubis firmly against the counter in front of the sink. The sting finally resided enough for me to dampen a hand with cool water and apply it to my stingy cheeks. I jumped a little at the first touch, but soon had both cheeks damp. Cool water after a spanking is wonderful sensation, though before a spanking is torture. I learned that tid-bit a year ago after swimming in the pond.

Once the fire was quenched to a mild sting, I got to work on the task at hand. Even though no one was in the kitchen, I didn’t dare move very far back from the countertop. I think Ryan had taken off to his girlfriend’s right after dinner so Becky was the only one who might spy on me. Her spying on me like this is embarassing, mainly because I was naughty than from a lack of modesty.

“Eyes bigger than your stomach?” Becky asked from behind me as I finished up washing the last of the dishes.

“Nope, I wanted to get spanked!” I snipped back, flicking water at her. “Brat!”

“Thought so,” Becky snickered. “You want some help drying?”

She wanted something. There wasn’t any other reason why she would volunteer to help me with my punishment.

“Mom said you could drive me over to Grant’s after you got done.”

Boyfriend time was the real motivator. “Fine,” I accepted. We’d be done in a few minutes and I’d be able to put my jeans back on.

Willow Groove – Grace Shue Reminisces with Sigma Alumni

Grace Lee’s Home

“Is Earl Grey fine?”

“Yes, Thank you.” Gretchen Shue accepted the saucer and tea cup.

“So tell me, how is he transition going? It was so great to hear Aunt Martha left you the house. We all knew it would get back to Willow Groove.” Grace said, talking an oreo from the plate on the coffee table.

“Brooklyn was growing old. Adam was offered a nice retirement package from the city and I had enough time to retire also, so

“Amber getting into Myra probably didn’t help.”

“Oh yea, she was skeptical at first. Yale and Stanford where her top 2 choices, but the full ride really us convince her to go to Myra for undergrad instead.”

Cling cling went the door chimes signifying the arrival of the Grace’s two guests. “That must be Marie and Julia,” Grace said getting up to greet her new guests.

“Sorry we’re late. Melissa had to have a discussion with my hairbrush before I left,” Julia stated taking off her coat. “I don’t know what gets into that girl sometimes. It is like tomorrow is the first day of kindergarten, not her sophomore year of college.”

“Well hopefully the hot heine will temper her behavior,” Grace replied, taking the platter from Marie. “Julia, Marie, this is Grace, Grace this is Julia and Marie,” Grace introduced before slipping off to the kitchen.

“Nice to meet you,” Marie offered her hand, which Gretchen stood to shake.

“You as well,” Gretchen replied.

Julia and Marie both took seats across from Gretchen and the sofa she was sharing with Grace.

“Wow, 20 minutes late. I didn’t think I took that long,” Julia said, noticing the time on the grandfather clock in the corner.

“So, you still spank your daughter?” Gretchen asked.

“Of course I do. And I will until she’s married,” Julia replied. “Didn’t you grow up here?”

“Yea, I just thought that tradition would have ended long ago,” Gretchen said.

“Ended?” Julia laughed. “I can’t think of any tradition ending in Willow Groove, yest of all one involving punishments. Why break something that works?”

“I guess so,” Gretchen conceded.

“Didn’t your mother spank you until you got married?” Marie asked, nibbling on an Oreo.

“Yea, I hated those evil chopsticks.”

“And it must’ve worked,” Julia mentioned. “Thought I bet it wasn’t as bad as the cane.”

“I don’t know about the cane, but the chopsticks were awful things. Much worst that the paddle in school.”

“Yea, pledge week though was no walk in the park.” Marie said.

“Which sorority were you in?” Gretchen asked.

“Sigma Epsilon Chi!” Marie stated proudly.

“Oh, me too, what year? I pledged in ’74” Gretchen said.

“Way before my time. I pledged in ’93” Marie said.

“Yea, you youngin’s,” Gretchen smirked. “Julia, were you a sister also?”

“Yea,” Julia answered. She was quite taken back at the question. “I was a year ahead of you.”

“You were?” Gretchen was puzzled for a moment. “Wait, is your maiden name Mason?”

“Yup!” Julia answered.

“Wow, I didn’t recognize you. You were chubby and dorky in college, now freaking gorgeous.” Gretchen gasped, covered her mouth in embarrassment.

“Yea, a year after Alberto and I married, I grew another another inch in all the important areas and lost a couple in the less important ones.”

“She what you would call a late bloomer,” Marie mocked.

“Alberto’s surely a lucky man.”

Grace returned with another platter of fresh vegetables. “Something a little healthier. So what did Melissa do?” Grace asked Julia.

“It was just bratty attitude stuff, nothing real big. I probably shouldn’t have let it get this far but it did. We hadn’t had a discussion since the fourth.”

“Of July?” Grace questioned.

“Yea, amazing.”

“Lucky for you, the twins have gotten two since the fourth. One was a real dozy,” Grace said.

“What did they do?” Marie inquired.

“John caught them up at the river skinny dipping.”

“John caught them skinny dipping! Wow!” Marie exclaimed.

“Yea, we both lit into them. There’s nothing like a willow switch to get your point across.”

“Lasted them until this past weekend when they got into an argument over some shirt.”

“Ah girls will be girls. It isn’t like we never did anything like that growing up.” Julia said.

“Remember the sorority backpacking trip my junior year, when we ‘accidentally’ ran into the boys?” Gretchen asked Julia.

“I’ve never forgotten. I’m so glad we didn’t caught. If my mother knew of half the stuff I did that weekend, I wouldn’t have been able to sit for a year.”

“Me neither. You know Lucy Caufield got caught. Her mom found a pair of men’s briefs in her laundry,” Grace said.

“She did? That’s what she gets for winning at strip poker,” Julia laughed. “It also explains why she disappeared for a couple of hours every Saturday morning during the following semester.”

“Yea, I heard she spilled everything she did to her Mom and as punishment got the belt once a week until everything was amended for.”

“Ouch! I didn’t think we did that many naught things that weekend,”

“Drinking, strip poker, truth or dare, skinny dipping, blow jobs, sex,” Grace counted off.

“Wow, mine would’ve flipped out too,” Marie gasped.

“You forgot the pine cone races,” Julia said, smiling.

“Aaghhh, I don’t know how you all got me to agree to that one,” Gretchen squirmed a little.

“Tequila!” Julia pronounced.

“What are pine cone races?” Marie asked hesitantly.

“You don’t want to know,” Gretchen answered quickly.

“It’s a relay like race. The guys run this obstacle course then fuck their girlfriend until they cum, slip a pine cone into her ass then she repeats the course without letting the pine cone come out.” Julia explained, much to Gretchen’s embarrassment.

“Ouch!” Marie said, covering her mouth in disbelief.

“Yea…we were dumb kids,” Gretchen sucked gently on her left cheek.

“That’s for sure,” Marie nervously laughed.

“Oh come on, you didn’t do anything wild and crazy in college?” Grace chided the younger women.

“No,” Marie answered meekly. The blush gathering in her cheeks gave away the lie.

“Sure you didn’t,” Julia grinned.

“Noting really,” Marie denied even as she felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Come on, tell us!” Julia eagerly pestered her friend.

“It couldn’t be worst that what we did,” Gretchen added her support of Julia.

“Kind of. Between my junior and senior year we bet the Nu Rho Delta girls we could get more pledge signups than them and we lost,” Marie related.

“The Nu’s got more pledge signups than you? They are still the nerds right?” Gretchen asked.

“Yea,” Marie conceded.

“So what was the bet?” Grace asked.

“Hell week. All the Sigma officers spent orientation week under the same conditions as their pledges spend hell week,” Marie said.

“So, I don’t remember hell week being that bad when I pledged,” Gretchen asked. “What? Bad food and a little paddling?”

“Nu girls are screwed up though. They basically lock their pledges in diapers for the week and spank them if they wet the diaper.” Marie explained.

“Your kidding,” Grace said.

“Unfortunately no,” Marie admitted, to the chucking of the other ladies. “I think all five of us officers got spanked every day that week. The worst part was asking to be changed, especially when you knew it was wet.”

“Why didn’t you take it off when you were at the house?” Julia asked.

“They used these little luggage locks with a short metal chain around our waists. Tracey, one of the VPs tried to get out the first day and they found out. She squealed like a pig when they used that hairbrush on her. Then they didn’t powder her when the diaper was replaced. She complained about diaper rash for two weeks.”

“Yikes, I remember how much trouble Melissa was that one time she had diaper rash,” Julia commented.

“I could imagine. Amber got it the first time I left her with her father unsupervised. Not a fun baby.” Gretchen mentioned.

“Well we should probably get started on planning the alumni dinner,” Grace refocused the group on the reason they were meeting.

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.

Executioner – Playing or Punishing

As a writer, it is important to create a complete picture of the situation, and to create this picture you need to be able to answer all the major questions; What, when, where, why, who and how? At least that is what my professors have told me.

Continuing the miniseries on the details of a spanking, today we get to the Who. Since most spankings involve two people, I am going to simply things a little and say the spankee is always an adult female. This just leaves the spanker. I know that technically a girl can be spanked by anyone, however realistically there are only so many different types of spankers. The types are who I will deal with today.

To make today’s post more than just a simple list of types of spankers, lets look at the level of consent and sexual element for such a spanking. I was considering also doing the the chances of the girl talking the person out of a spanking, but that isn’t any fun. Outside of a handful of Asian countries, there is a minimal level of consent on behalf of the girl, otherwise it is criminal and not really relevant here. Also the Sexual Element does not necessary mean sexual arousal by the spanker or girl, but rather sexual tension. Therefore I am assuming a high level of consent and high sexual element are more likely to be playful, even in the context of a discipline situation, than those with a low level of consent and low sexual element.

Spanker Consent Sexual Element
Mother Low None
Father Low Minimal
Boyfriend / Husband / Significant other High High
Aunt Low-Medium Minimal-Low
Uncle Low-Medium Minimal-Low
Older Sibling Medium Minimal-Low
Grandmother Low Minimal
Grandfather Low Minimal
Governess (historically) Low Low
Mentor High Minimal-Low
Teacher / Professor Low-Medium Low-Medium
Dean / Headmaster Low-Medium Low
Boss Medium Medium
Co-worker High Medium-High
Sorority Member / Pledge Mistress Medium-High Medium-High
Coach Medium-High Low-Medium
Roommate High Medium-High
Friend’s Parent Medium-High Medium-High
Minister / Religious Leader Low-Medium Low-Medium
Nun Low-Medium Low
Cult Leader Medium Medium-High
Knight (historically) Low Medium
Military Officer (historically) Low Medium
Slave Owner (historically) None High

Double Delight

My phone vibrated with the incoming text “wht u do 2nite?” “nothin” I responded to Candi. She had to know of a party. Candi is the stereotypical blonde. Really don’t know how she got into State, but she sure did make it fun. Candi knew of a party every weekend, and multiple parties on most weekends. I started tutoring her in algebra during our first semester, and we quickly became good friends. She is actually quite intelligent, but lacks all common sense. She’s also tall blonde and gorgeous, which really helps with the party invites.

“Want 2 party? 1 in UP” Candi texted back. A party in University Park, cool!

“Yea when” I texted.

“Pick U up in 30, bring suit” Candi responded. Thirty minutes would not be much time to get ready. First, which bathing suit should I wear? The blue one or the Pink one? The teal one from VC’s Pink collection has a boyshorts bottoms, which really shows off my ass. Definitely the right choice. I slip into the Lycra two-piece and check my self out in the mirror. I don’t compare to Candi, but I should be able to get a guy or two’s attention. A pair of cutoffs and college t-shirt were all I needed. Keys, cellphone and purse and I was off.

“Mom, I’m going to go out with Candi,” I told Mom as I passed by the living room.

“Have you ate yet?”

“I’ll get something with Candi,” I told her as I dug out my sandals from the back of the closet. My phone vibrated across the floor behind me, probably signaling Candi’s arrive outside.

“OK honey, but be back by midnight. I want to go shopping in the morning.”

“Ok, bye!” I yelled as I walked out the front door. Candi was waiting for me in her convertible.

“You ready for some fun?” Candi asked.

“Got it on.” I said sliding into the passenger’s seat.

The party was great! Hot guys, cool party, good food and lots to drink. I tried to keep my drinking in check but the guy making drinks was good. He was cute too. He kept making me special drinks that were irresistible. A pina collada, mojito and some mango thing I couldn’t sit down.

For all his work, I let him take me for a swim once the sun went down. We didn’t swim much, rather we just made out in the shadows of the pool. I dry humped him as we made out and then just reached into his shorts and gave him a hand-job. It was so sexy knowing everyone around could see us, but no one knew what we were doing. Well I guess they could see us kissing, but nothing more.

We eventually moved on into the dinning room where some card games were going on. I’d never heard of it, but tried my hand at Egyptian Rat Screw. I turned out to be good at it, winning three games. I was in the kitchen when I noticed it was nearly 1 AM. Damn I should’ve been home an hour ago. Candi was no where in sight but personal bartender

“Hey, did you drive? I got to get going and I can’t find Candi,” I said.

“Yea, I was thinking of leaving anyways. I can drop you off.”

“Your a lifesaver.”

We chatted all the way home. I wanted to spend some time in the driveway, but the light on in the living room told me that was not a good idea. I gave him a quick kiss then scampered off to the front door.

I didn’t realize how drunk I still was until I tried to unlock the front door and I couldn’t get my key in the lock. After three failed attempts, the door opening by itself shocked me. I then noticed Mom standing there in her nightgown with a clear look of disappointment.

“Have a little too much to drink?” Mom asked.

“Nooooo…” I slurred as I entered and tried to take off my shoes. The second attempt got them off my feet and close to the shoe rack.

“I think so. I asked you be home by midnight, but you decided to stroll in drunk at 1:30. Even though your in college, you still need to be home at a reasonable time sometimes. You didn’t even call saying you’d be late.”

“Sorrrrryyyy moooommm.”

“Oh you will be before you go to bed. For breaking curfew AND drinking while underage your going to get a double spanking. Drop those panties and grab the mantel.” Mom said as she picked up the leather strap from the coffee table.

There was a more or less standard punishment for breaking curfew. If you were late returning home you were getting the strap on your bare butt immediately upon your arrival. It always happened in the living room with me bending forward and holding onto the fireplace mantel. The amount was directly related to how late I was, and if I hadn’t been so intoxicated, I’d been able to do the math also and know that a 1.5 hours late meant I’d be getting at least 23 swats; 5 for missing curfew then an addition swat for every 5 minutes.

The double spanking was the worst punishment you could get in my house. Mom had this policy that if you committed two spankable offenses within one day, you had to serve at least 30 minutes of corner time before the second spanking could be delivered. The second spanking was always to be on the bare butt and with the next higher implement (hand -> hairbrush -> strap -> cane). After the second spanking you were effectively grounded to your room until the next day. No TV, cell phone, computer, iPod or anything. You really did not want to leave your room after getting the strap on top of a hairbrush spanking.

“Oh that’s not nessessarrryy.” I said as I tried to act like it wasn’t in trouble. Mom just took hold of my wrist and ushered me over to the mantel.

“It is quite necessary,” Mom said as she placed each of my hands on the mantel. “Do not let go.” Holding onto the mantel help stop the room from moving so much. Subconsciously I knew I was going to be spanked, it would be obvious to anyone sitting in the living room. Well, anyone not drunk, like myself. Mom reached around my waist and unbuttoned my shorts then down went the cutoffs, followed by my bathing suit bottoms until they hung at half-mast.

The sudden rush of cool air on my damp bottom sent chills up my spine. “Heeyyy!” I slured, starting to twist around to look at my mom.

Thuack! “Ahhhh” The first swat with the strap replaced the intoxication with a strip of fire. Mom had placed the good, hard swat right across my sit-spot.

Thuack! “AHHH Owwwee Owwwee” The second swat was placed directly over the first swat, removing any of the lingering effects of intoxication. Mom put next three swats quickly right on top of the first 2, getting a continuous cry out of me.

Mom then lectured me for a few minutes on responsibility and calling and such. I didn’t pay much attention as my rear end held my full attention. I did hear her though say I was to get 18 more swats for being an hour and a half late. It was at that moment that I prayed she spread out the swats.

For the next 6 minutes, Mom brought the strap down methodically across my bare flesh. I could feel her spreading out the swats, so that every inch of my backside was painted red. Top to bottom, left to right. I wiggled back and forth, even dipped my knees a couple of times to try and ease the burn but I luckily never let go of the mantel. I really should’ve paid more attention to the time at the party.

Mom waited for me to hold still after the last swat before sending me to the corner. “Put your hands on your head and get that nose in the corner.” I released my white-knuckle grip on the oak to wipe my nose and the tears blurring my vision. The hobbled walk to the corner was agonizingly slow. In order to keep my bathing suit at by knees, like Mom preferred with panties, I had to twist my hips to step forward, which pulled the skin at the bottom of my cheeks taught.

Mom luckily had pointed at the near empty corner, not the one on the other side of the room with a corner table spanning it. It was about 5 years ago when Mom first used that corner for corner time with my older sister. Katie had turned 18 the week before, and felling all grown-up, had taken Mom’s car shopping without her permission. Mom was taking a nap the whole time Katie was gone, and she’d have gotten away with it had she not brought home pizza for dinner. I’m still not sure what she did after Mom found out she’d taken the car to earn a double punishment, she earned herself 2 sessions with the cane. During Katie’s corner time, she wouldn’t stop fidgeting so Mom moved her to the corner with the table and made her spread her feet the 36 inches to match the tables then lean forward and put her nose in the corner. This pushed out her bottom again for an easy target, and it makes moving about difficult. Anytime Katie moved, Mom would get up, and place one solid swat with the strap across her bottom. Katie only moved once after getting placed in the table corner. I kinda enjoyed seeing Katie get it that day for taking the car, since she’d spent the previous 2 years hanging her driver’s license over my head when ever I wanted to go anywhere.

BEEP BEEP BEEP! The egg timer startled me back to reality and marked the end of my reprisal. The fire below had shifted more to a strong throb, where I could probably measure my pulse from the impulses of pain resonating from down below. I now was up for 6 strokes of the cane. The cane was always a half or full set, with a set being 1/3 of your age. Being only 20, I would be due only 6 stripes. Only 6 stripes, like that was a cake walk or something. I guess it is better than had this incident happened in a month when it’d be upped to 7.

“Ok back to the mantel you go,” Mom said as she exchanged her book for the cane. I made the slow trek back to the mantel and got into position. “I’ve been thinking. You act like you want to be 21, your in trouble because you where drinking like you were already 21, and your birthday is only a month away.” Mom paused and I became confused. Maybe she was going to let me off? “I figure you should be punished as if you were 21 and take 7 strokes with the cane.” SEVEN!

“Moommmm pleaasssee not seveen!” I pleaded from my bent over position.

“I think you can handle. Anyways you believe your big enough to get drunk.”

“Pleasseee!” CRACK! “OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEE!” I cried out as the first stroke of the cane cut into the top of my cheeks. The pain was intense, most likely because of my recent strapping.

Crack! “AAAAAAAHHHHH SNIFFFF OWWWW!” The flood gates opened up and had my eyes been opened, I doubt I’d have seen anything other than a blur. It took all my fortitude to bear the next three strokes. Mom worked them slowly down my cheeks, making my butt look like a blank sheet of music.

Crack! “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAHHHHH aaaaahhhh!” My hands shot instantly back to the bottom of my cheeks. The pain was explosive, with an intensity I didn’t know possible. Mom had just placed the sixth stroke right at the crease between by cheeks and tights, and more importantly, on the spot where I’d taken the first 5 swats with the strap. As I rubbed the spot in an attempt to quell the sting, I could feel a welt start to raise across the impact site.

“Come on, back over and we can get finish this. I’m tired and I imagine you want to go to be bed also,” Mom said as she lightly tapped the cane on the top of my hands. I rubbed for a few more moments, then bent forward and returned to caning position.

Crack! “WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH WWAAAAAAAAHHHHH wwaaa!” My hands shot back to my butt even faster this time. Mom had placed the last stroke on top of the previous one, doubling the effect. I was wailing like a banshee when Mom wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. My hands though were firmly a fixed to my rear end.

“Honey, you know drinking is illegal. If you’d been caught you’d have arrested. That has serious consequences for your future. I don’t want you screwing up your future by some foolhardy action a couple weeks before you can legally do it. I love you too much to allow you to do that.”

“Sorrryy snifff mom. I luuvv yoouuu too.” I cried as I wiped my tears on her nightgown.

“Come on, lets get you up to bed.” Mom ushered me to my room and helped me lay down on my stomach. I didn’t dare put on panties, or the covers the entire night. I ended up having to spend the entire day confined to my room, but I didn’t really mind it. Mom also told me I was lucky that Dad was on a business trip, since he’d made me wait until morning to be spanked, like had happened to Katie once. Getting the strap with a hangover would’ve been hell.