Time to showcase another author from the early days of the internet. This time the author is "kfr" who sometimes went by the handle "kfr975". He was published on Laura's Spanking Corner and on usenet in the old ASS and SSS newsgroups. His orientation, like this story is predominantly F/M, but you'll find a considerable bit of F/F and a little M/F in his work. This story, an F/m tale, is one of my favorites. I took the liberty of doing a little editing.
Thank God I'm a Country Boy
It was only twenty yards from the house to the woodshed, but that walk always seemed like the "last mile" to me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I could see my aunt Dolly following close behind, her face set in an impassive mask that was designed to hide, but always betrayed her anger.
In true country fashion, she wore faded jeans (filled out pretty well for a late thirty-something farm girl), a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and worn but serviceable low-top work boots. Her dirty-blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, with stray wisps having escaped during the day's work. Dangling from her right hand was a well- worn and regularly used leather strap, the sight of which set my pulse to racing every time I saw it.
My aunt Dolores, "Dolly" to nearly everyone but her own mother, was all country; no nonsense and "you'd better mind, or I'll tan your hide" old-fashioned. She'd love you to death, and be as much fun as anyone could with three orphaned kids to tend, but break her rules, and she'd whip your bottom, but good.
At sixteen, I thought I was a bit old for a licking, but when Aunt Dolly got word of my skipping school, she declared I was in for a very hot time. "You just march your sorry fanny out to the woodshed, mister!" Hands on her ample hips, she glared at me, fire in her eyes. "If you won't be taught in school, I'll just have to teach you a thing or two myself!"
My mouth opened and closed a few times, and I thought about pleading my case, that I was too old to be spanked, but before I could get a word out, she had taken the strap down from behind the kitchen door.
"Don't you even THINK about telling me you're too old for this!" she warned, holding the doubled-up strap in front of my face. "You're not even old enough to understand how important school is! Now, march!"
As my face turned a flaming red, I pivoted like a soldier on the parade ground, scared to death to do anything but obey her. Down the back stairs to the yard, and a right oblique down the slight slope to the rickety old woodshed. All the way there I kept thinking of things I ought to say in my defense, like: "Please, aunt Dolly, I just wasn't thinking, I won't do it again, honest". The words were rejected just as soon as they crossed my mind. Aunt Dolly insisted on folks being responsible for their actions, and I clearly hadn't been. The reason didn't matter. Punishment was due.
"Is Jimmy gonna' get a whippin?" The rosy hue of my face deepened as my thirteen year-old kid sister Annie asked the obvious question, humiliating me beyond belief.
"Yes, darlin'" aunt Dolly answered calmly. "Now you go mind your business, you hear?"
With a broad grin, Annie grabbed my eight year-old brother's hand and went back to their game of jumprope.
As we entered the musty old shed, I thought about how unfair it seemed, to be punished on such a lovely spring day. Not that any day was a good day, it just seemed worse to wind up with a sore seat under beautiful blue country skies. The old bare light bulb lit up as aunt Dolly pulled the chain, its harsh glare casting sharp shadows everywhere. I took note of her etched silhouette, the evil strap dangling from her hand. Despite the warm stuffiness of the shed, I shivered.
"Turn around." She ordered, folding her arms across her chest. I turned, still not able to meet her gaze, my mouth dry, my face blushing at the thought of what would surely come next. "Look at me."
I forced myself to raise my head, but couldn't quite meet those deep blue eyes that had so much love in them, but could be ice cold at times like these.
"My daddy was a miner." She said, beginning the lecture as she always did. "He busted his fanny to get out of the mines and buy this little farm, so his kids and grandkids wouldn't have to wind up working in a hole in the ground." She paused a moment as my head began to sink down on my chest once more, and lifted my chin gently but firmly with the strap in her hand. "Listen to me, now. I took you in when your momma and daddy died, and I swore to their spirits I would see you got an education, so's you could make something of yourself. Young man, I won't let you make a liar out of me. If I have to whip the hide off you every week, you're gonna go to school and try your best, you hear?"
My eyes began to mist as I remembered my mom and dad, and how sweet aunt Dolly had been to all of us after they died. Suddenly, I felt about six years old, and wanted to cry. I just wanted to bury my face in her chest and bawl. "I - I'm sorry, aunt Dolly." The words came out choked and lopsided, and I had even forgotten about the impending punishment, I just wanted to make things better between us.
Her pretty face softened. "I know, James, I know. But you've got to pay the price, you understand?"
I waited, going cold all over, remembering how much that nasty piece of leather in her hand hurt.
The fateful words came so soft and easy that they almost didn't seem threatening. "Take your pants down and bend over the workbench."
My fingers stiff from fear, I undid my belt and let my jeans drop, then blushing wildly, I turned around and pushed my underpants down to my knees. The beat-up old workbench loomed before me, its surface scarred with a million encounters with tools of all descriptions. Its front edge caught me right at hip level, and as I leaned across it, served to bend me at the waist, presenting my quivering bare bottom as a perfect target.
I looked straight ahead, not wishing to see what transpired behind me, but I couldn't help but hear aunt Dolly's shoes scrape the chip-littered floor as she took up her position. I could just picture her determined face as she ran the strap through her hands before beginning my punishment.
I heard, or sensed movement just before the strap hit full across my bare bottom cheeks. It had been a few months since my last encounter with the leather, and the fire of it took my breath away.
"Ngggh!" I winced, suppressing a cry that yearned to escape my lips. Tears started in my eyes, as much from embarrassment as the terrible sting of that well-oiled strap.
Another whack, just overlapping the first, added fire to the spreading patch of heat. "Mmmmmmph!" My lips pressed together tightly, as did my bottom cheeks. I desperately wanted to grab the area with both hands, but didn't dare.
My legs did a little impromptu dance, hoping to alleviate the burning smart that was spreading fast.
The third swat landed just below my bottom on the upper thighs, stretched tight from my bent-over position. It was too much. The awful sting just broke my resolve. "Owwwwwww!" I howled, twisting around in vain, just in time to see aunt Dolly wind up for another whack.
The whistling strap caught me right across the sit-spot, flush, burning like a branding iron. "OWWWW! Aunt Dolly! Please!" I yowled, followed by promises of better behavior and pleas for forgiveness. My bottom burned like fire, and there was much more to come. I half straightened up.
"James, you stay right there. You're taking licks until I say it's enough. Now bend over and arch that fanny out."
For a simple, loving, country woman, Aunt Dolly knew how to get the most out of a strap. The sting is intense and it gets worse with every lick. They pile on top of each other raising the heat in your butt to intolerable levels. In her strong right hand, that supple piece of leather stung every square inch of my bare bottom very, very thoroughly, leaving no area untouched.
A dozen or so solid whacks later, I was completely dissolved in tears, with eyes and nose both running copiously. My hands, having been so unwise as to seek to protect my smarting bottom, had caught some of the leather as well, adding to my discomfort.
Thorough to a fault, aunt Dolly had turned my hindquarters a bright cherry red.
I sobbed like a child, and she leaned over me, smoothing my hair and comforting me.
"Now, you just think about this the next time you feel like skipping school, and I'm sure you'll do the right thing, hmmmm?"
Leaving me to my misery, she left the shed, and allowed me to eat supper standing up, while my brother and sister giggled at my obvious discomfort.
The whipping did little to diminish my teen-age appetite, but food didn't taste quite as good with my bottom still smoldering from its association with the strap.
"Mornin'" Aunt Dolly's bright smile and cheerful look made the previous day seem almost like a bad dream. I sat down tenderly at the breakfast table, set with hot biscuits and gravy, fresh milk and scrambled eggs, and dove in, eager to start the day.
As I finished eating, aunt Dolly put the younger kids on the school bus, and then returned to the kitchen. Her look turned serious. My eyebrows went up a trifle as I saw that look come over her face, that look of painful determination.
I swallowed hard, the fear starting to build in my stomach. "Not again!" I thought, my mind reeling with fright. Aunt Dolly crossed her arms, and said resolutely, "Before you go off to school, I need to give you a reminder, something that will help you to focus on your responsibilities."
A feeling like a cold dash of water washed over me. "You wait in the sitting room, while I go get my hairbrush. A few minutes over my knee will re-light that fire in your bottom, and help you keep your mind on the right path."
The words didn't come out, but my mind was virtually screaming "NO! NO! Please, aunt Dolly, NO!" I didn't know how I was going to bear the vicious sting of that old-fashioned wooden hairbrush when it smacked down smartly on my tenderized bare bottom.
Woodenly, I went to the sitting room, as ordered, and soon heard her steps coming down the hall stairs. My eyes widened as I saw the hairbrush; its wide oval back of polished caramel-colored wood, the dense cluster of blonde bristles that gave it weight and substance, the nicely curved hand-filling handle, designed for optimum control.
Aunt Dolly wasted no time, but took an old padded, straight-backed chair and set it where she would have room to work. Rolling up her right sleeve, she sat down and motioned me to her.
Like a zombie, I obeyed, and with tears beginning to flow, waited as she first took down my pants, then stripped my undershorts all the way down to my ankles. "Over my knee." She said simply, patting one denim-covered thigh.
Looking down at her, I wanted to beg off, but the words wouldn't come.
Seeing my discomfort, she took hold of my left arm and pulled me firmly down across her lap, drawing me down slowly into position. Shifting her thighs, she got my backside at the right angle, and laid her left hand across my back. "When you get to school today, James, every time you sit down you're going to remember what happens to those who don't behave properly, sooner or later."
"Please, Aunt Dolly, I prom.." My voice had finally begun to work, but too late. The hairbrush snapped down on my right cheek soundly, stinging like a handful of bees, cutting off my plea in mid-sentence. "AHHHHHHH! OWWW!" I yelped, as the varnished wooden brush punished the area that had been so well-strapped the previous afternoon.
My cries merged into one long litany of repentance and anguish as she spanked and spanked, and spanked. As my tenderized bare bottom grew hotter and redder, aunt Dolly deftly plucked my wildly questing right hand out of the air as it sought to protect my burning rear from the blazing sting of the varnished wooden hairbrush. Pinning it firmly to my side, she shifted position slightly and concentrated on smacking every square inch of my upturned bare bottom until it fairly glowed. Some time during the process, she found it necessary to adjust my position, winding up with me draped across her left knee and her right leg thrown across both of mine.
I stood bawling, pants around my ankles, eyes and nose leaking, frantically rubbing my blazing bottom.
Aunt Dolly, a crooked little smile on her face, regarded me with a bit of amusement.
I must have been a slight.
Crossing her arms, she said confidently, "I don't guess you'll be skipping school again any time soon, hmm?"
I managed to choke out a strangled "No, Ma'am!"
She smiled as I turned to go, still hauling up my pants. Aiming a swat at my retreating bottom, she said cheerfully, "Well, clean up and git, or you'll miss your bus and I'll have to paddle your rear all over again and drive you to school in the pickup."
My feet never touched the stairs.