The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

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



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