The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Friday, March 16, 2012

Gwen's Sorority Days

This tale follows the "Jeff" saga posted last year.  In part 2 of that story Jeff's Aunt Joyce met a young woman named Gwen. This tale is Gwen's story.

Joyce knocked on the door of the trim bungalow in the quiet suburb. Gwen opened the door with a smile. Her medium length blonde hair was in a ponytail and she wore little white shorts and a halter top, a rather juvenile looking costume for a 25 year old woman. It made her look like a teenager.

"I'm so glad you came over, Joyce. Come in. Was I hard to find?"

"No, you gave good directions."

"Coffee? I just made a pot." Joyce couldn't help but notice the ample yet cute bubble-shaped rear tightly encased in the brief shorts as she led Joyce toward the kitchen.

"Yes," said Joyce, "I believe I will."

"Well, come on in. You know, I just can't help myself--don't mind the mess--I have been a naughty girl, not cleaning up," she said with a rueful grin. Then she blurted: "Look, after our meeting in the shop, I had to know how it turned out. After I made you that strap, I mean. I hope you don't think I'm awful for being curious. But, well.... did you really use it on your nephew? I know it works well," she said blushing. "After all my little fanny can attest to its effectiveness." She turned around and patted the cute fanny in question as she said it. It wasn't so little but it was round and very shapely.

Joyce was intrigued by this nice, seemingly uninhibited young woman, and was even beginning to feel the beginning of some odd emotional stirrings at the quick turn that the conversation was taking.
"Um, yeah, I did use it on Jeff....I had to. It was what his mom made me agree to when they left. He got in trouble at school and the rule was 'get it at school--get it at home'. What had to be done had to be done."

"Ooh, how did you do it?" Gwen licked her lips and leaned forward as she spoke. Her body language betrayed the fact that the subject excited her. Joyce felt her own excitement as she recalled the incident, but was determined to keep the conversation dignified.

"I...ah...simply explained to Jeff the need for his further discipline. We had a nice dinner and afterwards we went into the living room where I gave him his strapping." The way she said it, it sounded like she had given him a cookie.

Gwen, however, was on the edge of her seat and breathlessly queried:
"Well, did you put him over your knee, or did he bend over? Did you take his pants down? How many licks did you give him?"

"Whoa....whoa, there! You sure are curious aren't you? I mean--- this punishment was kind of private."

"Oh, yes, of course---I'm sorry. I can be such a nosy busybody. It's just that I used to get it a lot in college and the whole thing about paddlings and such just fascinates me. I don't know why."

Joyce could see that Gwen was now distressed and embarrased. "It's ok," she said with a laugh." I guess the last week or so has been an eyeopener for me." Actually Joyce felt herself warming up to this cute girl. She seemed so genuine. A bit naive, perhaps. Then again, maybe not, not the way she acted in the store, volunteering to "test" the punishment strap she had made. Anyway she felt strangely drawn to her.

"Is that so?" said Gwen with a lift of her eyebrows. And Joyce, with a sigh, proceeded to tell her about her evening with Brad.

By the end of the story Gwen's eyes were as big as saucers and she was bolt upright in her chair hanging on every word. "Wow! A spanking from a man...and bare to boot. Then sex...oh, my!"

Joyce nodded then continued:
"And I'll tell you another thing. With Jeff, I bent him over the arm of the couch, took his pants down and gave him a hard strapping on the bare!"

"No!" She exclaimed with a giggle covering her mouth. "You didn't! Bare? Ohh, I'll bet that really stung."

"He was one sorry boy by the time we were done," Joyce admitted. "But you said you got it a lot in college. What did you mean by that?"

"Oh. It was my sorority. Kappa was a house that believed in the paddle. That was how they trained pledges and kept order, you know, house rules and stuff. I got paddled some. We all did."

"I got a few swats myself during hell week," said Joyce.

"Well, let me tell you, Kappa was a different world."

And Gwen proceeded to tell Joyce her story:

   "I pledged Kappa because it was supposed to be the coolest sorority and also 'cause I was a legacy--my mom was a Kappa at State. Anyway I was thrilled because the big sisters were all so cool and beautiful...and smart. It was exclusive. There were only 12 pledges per year and we all had to live in the house. Rush Week was a lot of fun. The actives were real nice to all of us and we were thrilled to receive bids to join.

 We all took the oath and were assigned a big sister who was supposed to be an advisor and tutor and friend. Mine was Donna Chandler. She was a tall brunette, about 5'8" and very physically fit. She looked like dynamite in an evening gown or baggy sweats and I absolutely adored her. She was so worldly, so sophisticated, I felt like a 7th grader around her. She was very good for me though, and taught me a lot. She was a true big sister and sometimes like a mom, even, when it came to dispensing discipline.

Anyway, we all moved into the house that fall. Pledges had rooms next to their big sisters'. We were given a list of chores by our big sisters. We had to keep their rooms clean and take care of clothes, you know put things out, put them away, clean shoes and stuff. In return they helped us with classes and teachers and assignments. They gave us advice about boys, too. And we had a pledgemistress. Mary Ann Jeffries, I'll never forget her. She was beautiful girl with long legs and sort of broad shoulders. She had close cropped blonde hair and worked out a lot. She was sort of our "drill sergeant", and was our designated disciplinarian. My tummy would get butterflies every time I saw her coming.

 We were given a pledge book with all the history of the sorority, the meaning of things on the insignia, and the rules for pledges and a lot of other stuff we were supposed to memorize. They said we'd be tested on it. I'll never forget that first pledge meeting.

We had pledge meetings every week, on Sunday nite. At these meetings we were tested on the pledge book. Every week we would be required to memorize parts of it, like, the 7 tenents of sisterhood for Kappa Kappa Gamma. Also we had to learn the pledge rules fast. There were things like no drinking, no smoking, the proper way to address an active sister, no swearing. We weren't supposed to date for the first semester, so being out with a boy was a no-no.

The actives took notes on us and these were brought before what they called Rat Court on meeting nights. Three members formed the Rat Court to hear complaints of infractions by pledges and recommend punishments. Well, you can imagine that these meetings were not fun. Now I knew going in that Kappa was a paddling house. I had heard stories. But just how much they believed in paddling as a proper punishment for all the girls I had no idea. Later I came to understand it was a pride thing, endure it for the sisterhood and all that. Also it was a belief that the sharp sting of a paddling was preferable to heated words or grudges. For the pledges it reduced us to the status of little girls trying to be good, staying on our toes to try and escape some really juvenile correction that we thought we had left behind at age 12. Not so.

That first pledge meeting was an sharp shock. We were given our test on the first part of our pledge booklets and nearly everybody got at least one wrong answer. I had 3 wrong out of 10 questions. I remember Amy Leadon, a cute petite redhead had the most wrong, 6. After the results were announced we were all sent back to our rooms to change into PJ's. The PJ's had to be a two piece shorty nightgown type. Mary Ann admonished us not to cheat--it was two pieces only and the bottoms had to be short and no flannel. She gave us 5 minutes, and boy did we scramble. Some girls had camisoles and tap pants, others had baby doll outfits, but it was all rather skimpy.

When we came back into the room in the basement there was Mary Ann holding a wooden paddle. It was about a foot long and sort of rectangular with rounded edges and was 1/2" thick. I mean, I froze and thought uh oh... somebody's gonna get it!

We all looked nervously at each other as we stood in a line and Mary Ann just tapped that paddle against her palm. Mary Ann told us that we all had some wrong answers on the test and since it was her job to instruct us that she would help us learn. She dropped the bomb that we would each get one swat of the paddle for each wrong answer. I think my knees buckled when I realized we were really going to get an honest-to-God paddling with a real wooden sorority paddle. We all shifted around and looked at each other. Some of the girls looked like they were about to cry.

 She pulled a chair out to the middle of the room and one at a time we came up and bent over, hands on our knees. She put the test on the seat in front of us and we had to read each question and the correct answer. After each question was read she would give us one swat on the seat of our panties. It was question...answer...then, Crack! I'll never forget how bad that paddle stung. None of us had on more than thin panties and we all cried and blubbered our way through the questions and answers as each time that awful paddle cracked and splatted against our seats. We were all crying and rubbing when it was over.

I got three swats and each one burned like fire. Mary Ann really knew how to paddle a girl's seat. She knew just how hard to paddle to make it really sting without bruising. She would carefully line up each lick then pull her arm back and let fly. She flicked her wrist at the end so that the board hit square across both cheeks-- right at the plumpest part of a girl's sit-spot. It felt like a branding iron. Nobody could take more than 5 without crying. Poor little Amy, she got 6. Boy, was her heiney red. You could see how red it was through her white panties. Mary Ann didn't cut her any slack, either. She delivered each solid smack with the same amount of force, and each time little Amy squealed and drummed her feet and bent her knees.

We had a test like that every week and some of us would get swats. And then there was Rat Court. Some girls couldn't help it. They would be caught smoking or drinking or going out with boys on the sly. The active sister who caught us would present the evidence to the court and they would decide on guilt or innocence. Each offense had a set penalty. Swearing was 3 swats, smoking was 6. Drinking was 10. The worst part was, these swats could be on the bare bottom. That's right. If you were convicted it was panties down and bend over time while Mary Ann cracked that hard paddle on your bare behind. I was fascinated the way a girl's behind would jiggle when that paddle smacked it. And let me tell you, it hurt a lot more on the bare!

Each pledge meeting we had to wear a different "uniform". That first one was skimpy PJ's, but later it got more bizarre as more actives got involved with out training. One week they decided it would be old fashioned foundation underthings like corsets and girdles. Wow, talk about something that holds in the heat of a paddling. Mary Ann's paddle sounded like a firecracker on our fannies in those tight girdles. I remember that night I got 4 wrong on my test so I had to take 4 hard licks on the seat of my full cut panty girdle then wait for Rat Court with a hot rear end. I got caught swearing and so I had to yank down my tight girdle and bend over for another 3, bare. I never felt so exposed, bending over, my hands on my knees with that girdle tight around my knees, sticking my bottom out. Mary Ann gave me 3 slow hard licks. Crack! Crack! Crack! I blubbered like a baby. Then I had to pull the girdle back up over my swollen seat. My fanny was on fire all night.

Pledge meetings wern't the only time we got punished either. Like I said Donna was a great big sister, but she was strict. The first time I slacked off on cleaning her room she came up to me while I was watching TV. I had meant to do it while she was at the library but I got so involved in the TV show I just forgot. She must have come back and gone upstairs, 'cause the next thing I know she's tapping me on the shoulder and telling me to come upstairs with her for a "discussion". I noticed several of the girls winked and smirked and one just grinned and made a motion like she was rubbing her seat.

They figured they knew what was coming. Two nights before, Megan, another pledge, had come down into the day room in her underwear and had to ask Joanie, an active, if she could borrow her paddle for her big sister, Sheila. She was nervous and stammered her request, much to the amusement of everyone there. Joanie said she'd be glad to loan Sheila her paddle. She made Megan wait there while she went to get it. She came back holding a thin hardwood paddle. Megan was about to take it from her when Joanie announced that first she had to pay "rent" of two swats. Megan gulped and Joanie told her to assume the position. In front of everybody poor Megan bent over took two solid swats on her panties from Joanie with that little paddle. It must have stung 'cause she hissed, drawing in her breath at each one. Then she had to thank Joanie and take it to Sheila. We all got quiet then and from upstairs we could hear the muffled crack of that paddle landing on Megan's seat. We counted 6 swats. 2

Gwen's Sorority Days Pt 2

So anyway I was scared. I knew I was in trouble.
I followed Donna up the stairs to her room and she sat at her vanity and made me stand in front of her while she lectured me about my responsibilties to her as my big sister. I was really sorry and said I'd get right on it. She said that that was admirable and she accepted my apology but that she had to do something first so I would be more diligent in the future.

 She said she had rules and she meant for them to be obeyed to the letter. Then she told me to take my skirt off so I wouldn't wrinkle it. I stood there in shock--she meant to paddle me! She saw my expression, I guess, then patiently explained that she was a no nonsense big sister and she felt a punishment was in order. She said she did not use a paddle, but had a special little "spanker" she called "sis's helper". She then reached into her vanity and pulled out this oval leather "smacker" which was a double layer of leather stitched together and connected to a wooden handle. She said her big sister had used it on her and had passed it on to her at graduation. She said that a good spanking with this was called for and that I could expect the same whenever I shirked my duties to her as big sister.

She sat there tapping that leather spanker against her palm as I fumbled with my skirt. I undid it and pulled it down and she told me to fold it and put it on the bed. Now I was in a tank top and panties and my knee socks. She patted her lap and told me to lie across her knees. She said that this was the proper position for a big sisterly spanking since it emphasized her role as an upperclasswoman and caretaker of her younger charge. As for me, I was so embarassed to be over her knee like a 10 year old, but in an odd way it was comforting. It was very intimate, being over her knee like that. I mean, it seemed like she cared about me, and I really did feel bad about displeasing her. She laid the smacker on my back and I felt her fingers on my hips, sliding into the waistband of my panties. I must have tensed because she stopped and explained to me that this spanking and all others like it was going to be on the bare bottom. So she had me lift up a little and I felt my panties descend to my knees. I felt very vulnerable like that, my bare hiney stuck up in the air, waiting.

 Then Donna took up the spanker and announced that I was getting no set number. She was just going to spank until she thought I had learned my lesson. In retrospect I think she wanted to guage my responses, learn what I could tolerate. Then she started spanking me with brisk sharp smacks with a few seconds between each one. It really stung, but did not burn like the paddle. The first few were not all that unpleasant even, but then it started to sting more and more. Still she kept up a steady crack!...crack!...crack! while I wriggled around on her lap. I couldn't help it. My fanny started getting hot and after awhile it stung like blazes. I was going ouch! ouch! ouch! at every spank and Donna was interspersing the smacks with a lecture about the importance of obeying her instructions. I broke down sobbing, more from an emotional release than real pain, though it did hurt all right. It seemed like a hundred but was probably more like 30 spanks that she gave me. Donna let me up and watched with an amused expression while I did a little spanking dance, hopping from foot to foot and rubbing my buns. Then Donna told me it was all over and gave me a big hug till I stopped crying. Then she put "sis's helper" away and left me to clean up like I was supposed to do in the first place.

I was pretty diligent after that about cleaning and my other little sister duties. Meanwhile the sisters decided that we should all get these pinafores and bloomers for pledge meetings. It made us feel like 19th century schoolgirls as we sat down in our chairs in the basement to take our tests. When the results were tallied Mary Ann would invariably announce that some of us had missed a few questions and she picked up her paddle to emphasize her point. And we had a new twist. Some one had made this thing called a T-bar. It was simply a short wooden platform with a piece of pipe sticking up that ended in a "T". Mary Ann dragged it out and told those who had missed questions to take off their pinafores, in other words, strip down to our bloomers and camisoles. I think that first time Kim, Brittney, and Judy missed test questions.

Brittney was a cute blonde and with her curls cascading down to her shoulders looked every inch the schoolgirl from "Little House on the Prairie". Mary Ann gave her the order to stand on the platform, bend over and grab the bar. Her round little butt filled those bloomers to perfection as she bent over. Mary Ann told us all that if we let go of the handles that swat would not count. Then splat! She cracked the paddle across Brittney's butt and Brittney let out a yell. Though we had all felt the paddle by now, no one ever got used to it and we hollered and cried every time. On the third swat Brittney yelped and let go, shooting straight up and clutching her bottom. She blubbered about how much it hurt but Mary Ann just told her she would have to take it over. She bent back over and somehow held on as Mary Ann delivered this smack! right to the plumpest part of her behind. I swear I could see it wobble through the thin tightly stretched cotton. One thing about that T-bar was that the paddle came sort of up so it caught us right in the lower part of our fannies, right where we sat. It sure reminded us to study hard the next time.

The T-bar seemed to put you at just the right angle for a good smacking with the paddle and with Mary Ann around it didn't gather any dust. Complaints from the members were dealt with by Mary Ann and we were all subject to a trip to the basement anytime we were rude to a member. Or, if it was a more serious infraction it was dealt with at Rat Court. But a lot of times Mary Ann would just crook her finger at you and off you would go to the basement where Mary Ann taught you proper behavior with you holding on to the T-bar with your skirts up or pants down and that wicked paddle cracking against your fanny. To this day I think if I saw Mary Ann walking my way I'd get weak in the knees and my hands would be covering my butt.

We were permitted one layer of clothing, usually panties, when we were paddled. The exception was Rat Court which was not always, but could be, a bare bottom affair. It was also the exception to the rule that no one was permitted to paddle us except Mary Ann and our individual big sisters. If a sister had a grudge it was settled here. Now the interesting thing was, the "court" was impartial. If a charge turned out to be unjustified, a pledge could be acquitted--and, if it turned out that in the opinion of the court a complaint was trumped up out of jealousy or spite or something they could actually order that the active be punished! So members were generally careful in bringing something to Rat Court. But they did--let me tell you.

One of the big no-nos in the sorority, and especially for pledges, was flirting with a sister's boyfriend. We all knew this instinctively, but I guess with some girls it's just in their blood to be flirts. A prime example was Fran. Fran was a cute girl with a sort of baby- innocent face that went with a figure that was not so innocent. You know, high set pert tits, a narrow waistline and a bubble-shaped tush. And she was a tease. She always wore stuff that was short or tight or both. She cultivated this little miss innocent look while displaying her killer body in miniskirts or tight jeans or spandex dresses. She had cute freckles and a mischievous look on her face. The effect on men was usually devastating.

There was this sister named Janice Young who had a boyfriend, Steve. One night Steve was at the house waiting for Janice so they could go on a date. Steve came in and was invited to wait in the day room where the tv was. Fran was in there, too. She started chatting Steve up, batting her eyes, flirting. She made like she had to straighten things up and this gave her an opportunity to bend over like she was picking things up or fluffing pillows. Naturally her little skirt rode up halfway up her ass. She just kept it up, preening and showing her body off in the miniskirt she was wearing. Meanwhile Janice came down and stood in the doorway. Neither Steve nor Fran saw her at first. Finally she stomped into the room and yanked Steve out of there. The story should have ended there but it didn't. Two weeks later someone saw Steve and Fran at a frat party and told Janice. Talk about fuming mad!

Well it was no surprise when Janice showed up the Sunday nite after that with a few of the sisters who had seen Fran's shameless display. Fran was a quaking mess as Janice stated her case. She tried her miss innocent act but it was no go. She could fool men easily enough but not us. I guess she had gotten away with it so much in high school that she figured it would work here. So after listening to the evidence the Rat Court pronounced sentence. It was humiliating but fair. For the unauthorized date, 5 swats, bare. This was bad enough but then the clincher--for the theft of a boyfriend, three minutes with Janice, starkers.

Now what "starkers" meant was that Fran would have to to strip to her birthday suit and endure a punishment from Janice, in the form of a spanking, by hand only, as hard as she liked, for three minutes. This kind of penalty was rare but it was sometimes used when it was felt that a sister had a legitimate personal gripe about a pledge.

 Mary Ann approached with the paddle and told Fran to grab the bar and present her bottom. She slipped down the bloomers and gave Fran 5 slow swats that had her yelping. Then it was Janice's turn. She brought out a chair and sat down. In front of everyone, a tearful Fran stripped off her bloomers and camisole to stand naked in front of Janice. Janice regarded her cooly for a minute. Fran was just shaking and crying and her behind was red from the paddle. She had been told not to rub and you could tell it was all she could do not to do it.

Janice smoothed her skirt then told Fran sharply to get herself across her knee for a good lesson in manners and being true to her sisters. Fran sobbed and begged for forgiveness. Janice just pointed at her lap. Fran clambered over Janice knees and put her hands on the floor. Janice adjusted her until her butt was arched up right over Janice's right knee. Janice rested her hand right on Fran's bottom and asked her if she was ready to atone for her foolish behaviour. Fran glubbed out a tearful "yes". Mary Ann brought out a kitchen timer and set it to three minutes and put it on a table where everyone could see it. She hit the start button and Janice started to spank.

It was the hardest most intense spanking I ever saw anybody get. Janice was a tall lithe girl who played handball and squash. She spanked poor Fran with smart crisp smacks that landed at least one per second. Her arm was like a machine--crack! crack! crack! crack! with almost no pause in between. As she peppered Fran's behind Fran wailed and pleaded for mercy. She wriggled and bobbed and her bottom bounced all over Janice's lap, but Janice held her in a vice grip. About halfway through she pulled Fran further over to her left knee and clamped her right leg over the backs of Fran's thighs. Then she really let her have it. Fran was crying and squirming around and her behind was a cherry red with two dark red spots right in the middle of her hind cheeks. And she was really squealing--Ow! ow! ow! at the top of her lungs at every smack. Her nude fanny really got a tanning. Worst one I ever saw.

When the timer went off, Janice stopped and let Fran up. Fran was a mess. Tears were running down her face, snot was dripping from her nose, and she was hiccuping as she tried to choke out this tearful apology while she stood there rubbing her inflamed cheeks. What a sight! She was one punished girl. I know they always talk about giving you a "sound" spanking and I never really understood what that meant before then. She had been thoroughly chastised and if you could call any spanking "sound", I guess that was it.

As for me, my relationship with Donna deepened. I was pretty good about doing chores, but studies gave me trouble. Donna monitored my grades. I was accountable to her for all my grades on tests. She set aside Wednesday nite as review night. She would call me in and I would bring her all my papers. Kappa was in the running for the Pan-Hellenic trophy each year and everybody's grades, even freshman pledges', counted.
A's and B's earned me praise and C's got me punished. D's and F's were unthinkable.

Donna sat me down one night and explained her expectations. Get A's and B's or it's spanking time with "sis's helper". I gulped and nodded OK.
The trouble was, there were some times I just goofed off and didn't study. So on Wednesday night I would hand Donna my work. If there were C's it meant a spanking. Donna sat on the bed while I would take off my jeans or skirt then climb over her lap. She would slip my panties down and I got a dozen licks with that little smacker for every C I brought home. If I had more than 24 coming, she made me give her my right wrist 'cause she knew I'd try to cover up. She'd lock my hand down and spank away, lecturing me all the way through it. After we were done she'd let me up give me a hug and a kiss and tell me to do better. There would usually be some tears but I felt good about it 'cause I felt like I'd paid for slacking off.

"Whew...." said Joyce, "That was some it hot in here or is it just me?"

"I'll open a window if you'd like," said Gwen, concerned.

"What about boys, Gwen? Didn't boys figure into the picture?"

"Wow, yeah. That's another story. The most amazing thing that ever happened at Kappa with boys was my sophomore year. The pantie raid. Want to hear about it?"

"Sure," said Joyce. God, all this talk about sorority paddling and naked spankings was making Joyce squirm. She was flushed and couldn't control the fact that things were getting moist in her panties. But she wanted to hear more.

NEXT.....Gwen continues her story.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

More Letters

The "Letter Challenge" contest at KLSF is now underway. Already it is apparent that there are some problems with the format. I suspected as much and it's being borne out. First, it is far too restrictive. It forces POV into first person accounts. Second, it's a letter, so dialog is out. It's all exposition. After awhile they all sound the same. Third, there is little originality in the themes. Most of the entries are laments from schoolgirls complaining about the disciplinary regime at harsh boarding schools or alternative housing situations and the like followed by accounts of punishments received. There is so little that sets one apart from the other. There are a few notable exceptions. Whether these do well in the voting is open to question. In my experience most readers of spanking fiction prefer the familiar well trod path, so I doubt it.

Well, be that as it may, today's offering are a couple of other letters typical of the genre.

More of the "letters" written in the style of the times. This was late 50's early 60's, so no sex, at least nothing explicit....

Dear Annie,
      When I was 16 I went to spend part of the summer with a  friend of the family because my parents were taking a month long tour in Europe. Beverly B_ was her name and she was 38, about my mother's age. She used to visit my mother a lot when we lived next door, but in the years after her divorce, she had moved out of the old neighborhood and now lived a few miles away.

I liked Mrs B_. She had always treated me special. She had a warm smile, and a gentle way about her. When I was a little boy, she used to invite me into her house and give me cookies. On rainy days she would often read to me. She had no children of her own. I guess to her I was like a surrogate son, and to me, she was my favorite grownup next to mom and dad. She was pretty too. She was tall and had long dark hair parted on one side. When I got older I appreciated the fact that she had terrific legs and always wore shorts in the summertime that showed them off.

It was great living in her house. We got along very well. We talked about stuff that I couldn't even talk to my parents about--girls and things like that. She was very cool.

At 16 I had my drivers license, but naturally, no car. One night there was this party I wanted to go to, so I asked Bev if maybe I could borrow her car. To my surprise she said yes, but then cautioned me about all the usual teenage things--you know, be careful, don't stay out too late, and all that. It was the last thing she said that really got to me later. She said "promise me you won't drink and drive. Promise me that."

I had no intention of doing that, so I told her so. Then she gave me a smile, ruffled my hair and told me to have fun. When I got to the party, though, I fell in with some cool guys who had snuck some beer in. I was just going to have one or two, but before I knew it, I was plastered. When the party was over I got back in the car and drove home. My head was reeling and I was weaving all over the road. I didn't see the fence and bushes next to the driveway, so I plowed right through them, making an awful mess. The fence was smashed, the bushes torn up and there were scratches all over the car.

I was still sleeping it off when Bev came into my room the next morning (noon, really) and asked me about the car. I've never been a good liar and I didn't want to lie to Mrs B_, so with a good deal of shame I told her everything. She was so shocked. She could not believe that I had done this. She was upset enough about the car and the fence, but what really upset her most was the realization that I had been driving her car dead drunk. All the time she was shaking her head in disbelief. Then she left and said we'd talk later.

I felt about two feet tall. I had let down one of my favorite people and had betrayed a trust. Late that afternoon she called me into the kitchen. She said she didn't know what to do. This was a serious matter and there needed to be serious consequences. I said I'd pay for the damage. She then said it was more important than that. There was the matter of drunk driving. She felt that I needed a consequence that would insure that I'd never do this again. She asked me quite seriously how my parents punished me. Had I ever been given a spanking by my parents? I told her that they never had. I'd been a good kid (an only child) and they'd never had cause to punish me in this way. She said that when she'd been a kid there had been several occasions when her parents had had to resort to corporal punishment with her. A chill formed at the base of my spine as she said this. I knew that she was considering this for me. I was so ashamed, though, that I would have agreed to anything to regain her good graces.

After a moment of awkward silence Mrs B_ seemed to have decided something in her own mind. She looked me straight in the eye, a pained look on her face, and told me that I should be punished, and that nothing else would do but a good whipping. She didn't see any other way that justice for this incident could be satisfied. She couldn't send me home, grounding was dumb and, really, inadequate for what I'd done.

At first I was stunned. A whipping? At my age? Almost tearfully, though, I had to agree. She said it would have to be severe. Not having ever been spanked or anything, I had no idea what to expect. She said I was to go to my room and put on pajamas and wait. She had a few errands to do and would attend to this unpleasant chore after she got back. When it was over we could be friends again.

I went to my room and undressed like she said. My thin pajamas were one layer of cotton. I shivered to think that they would not protect me much. About an hour later I heard the car pull back in. I watched through my window as Mrs B_ got out of the car and walked toward the back yard. The yard had this thick hedge made of these bushes with upright slender woody shoots. I watched as Mrs B_ cut a long switch and peel the leaves and buds off of it. I became almost ill with the realization that she was going to whip me with this switch. My heart was pounding and my throat was dry as I heard her footsteps on the stairs.

Mrs B_ entered my room carrying two objects, a large wooden flat-backed hairbrush, and the switch she had just cut. She sat down on my bed and motioned for me to stand in front of her. Mrs B_ told me that the worst tanning she ever got was given to her in two parts by both parents. Her mom had spanked her and her dad had given her strokes with a stout switch. She was sorry, but she thought that, in view of my crime, I should get the same. Since she was doing this alone she would administer both parts. My legs were shaking as she made me come to her side and climb over her lap face down. My torso and my legs were on the bed and my buttocks were arched up over her lap. I felt her arm hold me firmly over her knee and with horror felt her fingers in the elastic band of my pajamas. She meant to bare my bottom for the punishment.

I protested but she said I was going to get this bare so I would be sure to feel it, and she hoped it would teach me never to do this again. I buried my face in my hands and lifted a little so she could slide my pants down. It was horribly embarrassing. I could look over to my right and see the whole scene in my dresser mirror. From my kneehollows to my lower back I was naked with my bare butt sticking up. Mrs B_ had a determined look on her face as she hefted the hairbrush. At this moment you can imagine how vulnerable I felt with my nude bottom upended over her lap. I saw her raise her arm. The brush fell with a blur and landed with a terrific crack and I felt a hot sting on my buttocks. One smack followed another as she put that brush to me. The pain was so hot and intense I wriggled involuntarily and she had to admonish me several times to keep still. She must have spanked me thirty times or more and my poor bottom was blazing. I was heaving and gritting my teeth to keep from crying out as the cracks of that awful brush rained down. When it seemed to hurt so bad that I was almost crying, it stopped.

I was grateful for the respite but I knew the worst was yet to come. She lifted me up and told me to stand at the foot of the bed. I suffled over there and stood, my hands covering my privates. I wanted to rub my bottom, it was so blazing hot. I could see how red it was in the mirror. Mrs B_ pulled pillows from the front of the bed and stacked them in the middle. Then she told me to lie down on top of them. I tearfully obeyed and lay down over the pillows, sticking my bottom up in the air. She told me to hold onto the headboard, that this was going to hurt, and she suggested that I bite down on the comforter. I heard her whoosh the switch a few times and I flinched at the sound. Then she laid it across my bottom cheeks and tapped me a few times. The next thing I heard was the swish of the switch and I felt a hot line of fire across my bottom.

Nothing I had ever experienced prepared me for the pain of a switching. It was incredibly painful--especially on my hotly swollen bottom. I think I screamed, trying to muffle the noise in the bedclothes. I flutter kicked my legs as she delivered lick after lick with that switch. The fire in my buttocks was unbearable. To this day I don't know how I stayed face down and bottoms up to endure it. After ten strokes I was blubbering and begging her to stop, but she kept on whipping that switch down on my blazing fanny. She must have given me fourty or fifty licks and I was crying freely when she finally stopped.

Mrs B_ told me to pull my pants up, but to stay in my room for an hour to think about what I had done. Actually I stayed there all afternoon. I was in too much pain to move. My backside was truly welted and red all over. But by that evening I came out. At dinner Mrs B_ put a soft pillow on my chair and was very kind to me. She said now I had endured my punishment and the incident was over. She even said I could borrow her car again. A week later I did, but you can bet I stayed away from parties where guys brought beer--and I never to this day have driven after drinking.
                                               John G_
                                               Memphis, Tenn

Dear Annie,

What should I do? My husband spanked me. It was like I was ten years old. He put me over his knee at a party, pulled up my skirt and spanked me hard with his hand for five minutes. It was so embarrassing. I was bawling like an infant when he stopped. What's more, he told me he'd do it again if he caught me flirting with other men. But that was not even the end of it. It got much worse later, at home.

I'm a pretty good looking gal. I'm sort of voluptuous with blonde hair--I even sort of look like Marilyn Monroe, you know, a slim waist, big hips, and I'm buxom. Guys look at me and I like it. We went to this party last week, and after a few cocktails I guess I got a little friendly with Archie Miller. He's a good looking guy and very sweet. We were dancing pretty close over in a corner and I let Archie's hands stray. It felt good and I rubbed up against him. It wasn't like I was going to do anything, but then we were surprised by my husband, Bob. Bob told Archie he'd punch him in the nose if he caught him with his hands on me again. Then he grabbed me by the wrist and jerked me down the hall until he found an empty room. It was a big noisy party, but people noticed.

He was really sore about my flirting and chewed me out but good. When he'd finished telling me what he thought of my behavior I thought he was done but to my surprise, he sat on the bed and flung me over his knees. I couldn't believe it. He was going to spank me! I could feel him ruck my skirt up. I had stockings and a tight white panty girdle on underneath. I squealed for him to stop, but it fell on deaf ears. Bob told me I had this coming, and he started spanking my bottom hard and fast. It stung like the very dickens. Bob is a carpenter and has big calloused hands and he really lit a fire on my seat. I was kicking and struggling but Bob is a big man And I was no match for his strength. After five minutes of solid spanking I was burning up and bawling. Bob jerked me to my feet and said we were going home. As he opened the bedroom door, I thought I'd die of embarrassment. A crowd of people had been listening outside while Bob had tanned me and I had blubbered. They whispered and some giggled in amusement as Bob hustled me out to the car. I was so humiliated.

Bob didn't say much in the car as I pleaded with him to forgive me. I had drank too much. I just got carried away a little. I said I'd never do it again. Bob just turned to me and said he'd make sure I never did it again. When we got home Bob told me to get in the bedroom and get ready for bed. I breathed a sigh of relief since I thought maybe he'd take out his anger by having his way with me. I must admit that the prospect was arousing in view of his masterful treatment of me earlier. I put on my slinkliest nighty, a little black baby-doll number that I was sure would ignite his amorous feelings. I was shocked then when he entered the bedroom with a doubled up belt in his hand.

I put my hands up to fend him off but he just grabbed me and put me right over his knee. He pulled my top up and my panties down so I was nude from my shoulders to my knees. I was squirming and wriggling helplessly, pleading with Bob not to do what he was going to do, but he said I had a good whipping coming. He said if he didn't nip this in the bud, that I might be tempted to stray. He said he loved me too much to have me do that to our marriage. Stragely enough I don't think I had ever loved Bob more than when he said that, and I felt like I truly desrved the tanning I had coming. Oh, and what a tanning it was! He whipped that belt down on my poor fanny until it blazed red hot. For several long minutes he alternately scolded me and lashed my glowing bottom cheeks with that wicked belt. It stung like fire and I begged and pleaded for him to stop, but he just kept right on, lick after lick.

Afterwards he did make love and I have to admit it was wonderful. But now here is my problem. Bob says he is going to make a paddle especially for me and that he is going to use it on my behind every time I step out of line. He says I have been far too flighty and from now on, it's going to be love, honor and obey--and he means it about the obey part. What should I do?
                                                 Millie S_
                                                 Columbus, Ohio