The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Sunday, July 20, 2014

F/M Sunday -- "Liz"

Here's a story I pulled off the internet years ago. It's hardly an original plot, but it's well written. The time is the 1950's. The author's name was Boy Spanker.

LIZ

My parents were genuine Victorians, that is they believed that children were to be mostly seen and not heard. I don’t mean that there was any cruelty involved, just that you knew, as the child, you had certain limits and if those were breached you were in a lot of trouble. That trouble usually meant you were sent to your room after you had suffered the rite of being spanked. The form and duration of these punishments were decided by the gravity of the offense committed. Most of the time spankings from my mom were not too hard to take, though you knew by your stinging rear that you had better mend your ways. When grave offenses were committed, you might have to wait for dad to come home. If the problem was really awful, both parents took a turn at dispensing discipline. That only happened once to me, but it was memorable.

The spankings were not often, but did occur when breaches of expected behavior took place or if the family name was put at risk by the deed committed. The story I’m about to tell has to do with this type of mistake.

I was 13 in the 40’s and 50’s when these youthful sins took place. It was 8th grade and during a time of life when girls were a deep mystery to us boys. We were intensely interested in how they looked, smelled, and the changes in their bodies.

There was no media as we know it today. TV was just starting, Playboy did not yet exist, we lived in a sexual wasteland. You took advantage of every opportunity to get a little sex education or see some sights not before experienced. ‘But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Suffice it to say sex was very exciting thing for us and we took our chances not thinking of the possible consequences.

A few friends and I always walked home from school together. We comprised at least three girls and three, sometimes four boys in this neighborhood group. We lived close to each other, house across alley. We knew enough about each others families to know what to expect if the standards of behavior were not adhered to. We understood that bad grades, mischief in the neighborhood, or worse, trouble at school would bring certain punishment at home. A call from a teacher, or worse the principal, was a cause for great concern.

Two of the girls in this group went to the parochial school and we met them each day on the way home. One girl who I’ll call Liz was very well developed and liked to flirt with the boys in our group.

One day she seemed preoccupied about something. We asked her what was wrong and coaxed out of her that she had gotten in trouble in school and had talked back to a nun. With a very downtrodden look she admitted that she’d made a very smartmouthed comment to one of the strictest nuns in the school. She’d been taken to the principal’s office where she was bent over the desk and given 5 swats with a yard stick on her bare thighs. Liz even raised her skirt to show us the red marks still very visible.

Liz lifted her pleated tartan skirt just high enough for us to all see the still pinkish marks on her up-per thighs. Wow! My first almost look at a luscious female derriere! Despite trying to be brave, Liz admitted she feared going home because the principal had promised to call her mother regarding her disrespectful outburst.

Liz’s mother was one of those stern disciplinarian’s who you just did not trifle with. She had three daughters and ‘they would all be good or she would know the reason why’, a quote from Liz about her mom. Her mom treated us all very well, giving us cookies. hot chocolate, fruit, etc. but always on the promise that we would behave ourselves.

I recall quite clearly how we tried to give Liz some comfort and sympathy. telling her we had all been grounded or sent to our rooms without supper. After all, when it’s over, its over. right? But the knowledge of what would really occur hung in the air like a dark cloud. We all thought we were to old to be turned over the knee and spanked. Then Liz said it out loud; Yes, mom still spanks me and my two younger sisters.


She said she could take it, if the punishment was not one of those rare times when her mom was really angry and would use a hairbrush or a strap on her over the couch. She was afraid her mom would be very angry by the time she got home. As it turned Liz was right and her worst fears were well founded.

My friend John and I decided that if Liz was to be spanked, we wanted to witness the spectacle if it was at all possible. We had fantasies about her, doing other unmentionable things with her. Of course we did consider her our friend, but, if we had a chance to observe the beautiful bottom of our friend, then we deserved a look if we could get it.

We decided to observe from under the back porch where we could look through a small window and see what went on in the basement ironing room in Liz‘s house.


When Liz went into the house, we went around back of her house and took up our position by the window. Success was ours, Liz’s mom had already taken her to the ironing room and dosed the curtains, but we had a clear view over the top of the curtains. We heard the scolding and the offered apologies. I recall her mother’s words "You’re about to get the worst spanking of your life young lady".

The scolding continued as Mrs. J. prepared for the punishment by putting a sturdy wooden chair in the center of the room. She instructed Liz to retrieve both a hairbrush and the strap from the nearby cabinet.

Mrs J. pulled Liz to her side and then over her lap. Much to our delight her pleated blue and white tartan skirt was raised. The white panties were visible and I held my breath as we quickly found a board to stand on so we could get a better view of these marvelous proceedings.

Liz’s mother began the spanking with her hand, and that looked convincing enough to us. Liz squirmed, cried, and pleaded over her mother’s lap. Her mom’s hand came down hard and fast, first on one cheek then the other, 5 or 6 on each side of the bottom as the punishment continued.


After several minutes of hard hand spanking over the white cotton panties Mrs. J. told Liz to stand up. We thought the spanking was over but were wrong. What we heard next really turned us on and we both held our breaths. Mrs. J. instructed her daughter to hand her the hair brush, a black backed wooden brush that looked fearsome to us, even from our window perch!


Liz got the brush and handed it to her mother, tears still in her eyes from what she had already received. Liz was pulled back over her mother’s knee. Her skirt was raised for the second time and to our utter amazement, her white panties were yanked down to the knees. It was just like what happened to us boys at those times we badly misbehaved.

The scolding continued in earnest, "How dare you humiliate me and this family with your smart mouth, I’ll show you what happens to my daughter when she disgraces our family at school in front of the nuns".

All the time she scolded, Mrs. J. spanked and spanked with that hairbrush, and our friend Liz was pleading and crying and wiggling across her mom’s lap. I clearly recall the SMACK, SPANK, SMACK, SPANK, going on and on as the beautiful bottom in front of us turned from pink to red to dark red before our eyes. The punishment went on for some time, during which I was becoming more turned on than I had ever been in my entire life. I recall being both turned on and afraid that I would get caught watching this most humiliating of punishments, and for me a forbidden view of the event.


I began to feel very sorry and concerned for Liz as she endured this spanking. I remember saying to John that we had seen enough and should leave before we got caught But there was another feeling that said stay, this is a great show even if it is risky. Of course this side won out as we stayed on to witness even more of the punishment. John said Mrs. J. had not used the strap and she still seemed very upset with her daughter. The vision of Liz getting punished with the strap, on her now quite bare and very crimson bottom kept me right where I was, despite my momentary chivalry in feeling we had seen enough.


It seemed that Liz’s mother would never stop scolding and spanking. Just as Mrs. J. stopped the hairbrush spanking, "Liz, you’re not done yet! Get that strap, hand it to me and bend over, raise that skirt, and grasp the seat of this chair!" she ordered Liz.

Liz trembled as she did what her mom said. Her mom began to scold again and we watched intently. Poor Liz’s rear was red, scorched even, as she stood with her panties now to her ankles, giving us a clear view of that beautiful bottom. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Liz received sharp smacks as we looked on.

As it happened, Liz’s younger sister walked right up to John and me watching the spanking with big smiles on our faces. Little sister yelled! We stood there, shocked by being caught. She yelled our names and we ran, but with the awful knowledge that we had been caught, named, and now were in for it as sure as the sun comes up!

Why hadn’t we left when we’d had the chance?! We just couldn’t stop looking at the great backside of our friend as she got her spanking! I was almost sure I would suffer the same fate unless I could convince my mom that it was all an accident We just happened to be there and heard a commotion and looked for just a minute before we were caught.

When I got home my worst fears were realized. Mrs. J. was talking to my mother as I walked in the door. Mrs. J. and my mom were good neighbors and spoke often. My mother, as I’ve said before, was a gentle Victorian Lady who always spoke softly. I could tell that she was more upset and angry than I had ever seen her in my life. It had always been my father who spanked or switched me when I committed some punishable act. I knew from the look in her eyes that this was one of those times that she was going to take care of me and my bottom was in serious trouble.

I had no idea how serious at this point, but would soon to find out.

The conversation between the two mothers went on for some time and my fate was being determined by these very irate ladies. They were intent on teaching me a lesson I would never forget, and might add, I never have.

When they hung up, my mother called me to her. She calmly told me she was greatly disappointed in my actions, and that we were going to remedy them, now! She said that since I had watched Liz get a bare bottomed spanking, I would suffer the same fate.

What? My mother did not make sense. I knew I’d be spanked, but what did she mean, the same fate? Mom said she understood that young boys were interested in girls bodies. She told me she wouldn’t tell my father right away, but later, in her own way.

Now I was sure something quite different was about to take place. Mother said I would be severely punished so that I would never again invade another person’s privacy, by ever thinking of doing such a thing again. My punishment would be two-fold, first, she would spank me with her hairbrush on the bare bottom. Of course! Otherwise it didn’t count as a serious discipline. She said I’d find out the second part when I had a very red and sore bottom.


I hadn’t been spanked barebottom for two years, and never, that I could remember, with a hairbrush by my mom. I knew I deserved a good spanking, and even admitted as much to my mother. I tried to say that I was sorry, and felt very bad realizing that I was wrong, but her only response was to say that I would soon feel much worse. She told me to get her hairbrush and then the wooden spoon from the kitchen. Mom had never been so deliberate in any punishment. I felt sick, and with good cause.

Upon entering the bedroom she moved her dressing table chair to the center of the room, called me to her, unfastened my pants, took them down and told me to step out of them. I was told to bend myself over her lap. I remember being very scared as I did as she instructed. She began the spanking immediately with very deliberate WHACKS! with the wooden spoon. She put her arm into it and it wasn’t long before I was howling and pleading with mom to "Please stop, it really hurts! I’ll never do it again!". Her only reply was that I should have thought of that before, and now I must pay the price for my deeds if I was to grow up a good man.


After spanking me for what seemed hours, she stopped and forced me to stand so she could take down my undershorts. She pulled me back over her lap. Now the hairbrush was used to deliver scalding swats to my now tenderized bare bot-tom. My rear cheeks were on fire, as if an angry nest of hornets were stinging me. I was crying buckets of tears by now and promising to be a good man and never look at any girls bottom ever again.

I had never been spanked this hard by my dad, so I gained a new respect for what an angry mother can do with a hairbrush and a wooden spoon. When the spanking finally stopped I cried for some time as I lay over that maternal knee until she told me to get up. I do recall feeling better because I knew that after this I would be forgiven by my mother.

Well, I was partly correct mom did forgive me, but the punishment was not over. I was completely shooked to hear that I was due for more bare bottom spanking if it was required to satisfy Mrs. J.. I just couldn’t believe it! But I was to go with my mother immediately to Liz’s house and be spanked by her mother, in whatever manner Mrs. J. decreed. According to my mother, Liz could watch me receive my punishment, just as I had watched her get spanked. My dear Victorian mother also told me that she had suggested to Mrs. J. that I be given the same dose she had given to her daughter though I deserved harder and longer.


I was so upset, bewildered, and fearful, I could not even talk. I knew I had earned the punishment but still had a difficult time accepting that my mother would turn me over to someone else’s lap for a spanking. Mom said she knew I deserved what I was going to get even if it was embarrassing, because it was only fair for Liz to see me get my comeuppance.

Mom and I went directly to Liz’s house. I was ushered to the very room where I had observed Liz get spanked, only this time it was my turn. Mrs. J. was waiting for me and asked that I put the chair in the center of the room so the others could watch. I obeyed, head hanging low, for I didn’t have any real choice in the matter. Mrs. J. called her daughter to come into the room and watch the spanking with my mom.


I was ordered to take down my pants and underpants, then come and stand beside Mrs. J. I received a scolding lecture on my awful behavior, and how shamed I should feel, etc. etc. I just wanted it to be over! I was so embarrassed and wanted to hide. I knew it was going to hurt like red hot irons on my already sore bare bottom cheeks. I trembled when I saw that Mrs. J. had her hairbrush and strap laying within easy reach. She took my arm firmly and guided me down over her lap. I saw her reach for the hairbrush out of the corner of my eye and knew it was being raised over my backside. CRACK!!! Mrs. J. brought that horrid brush down with all the force she could muster.


"YEOWWW! AHHHHHHH!"

Mrs. J. spanked me hard and fast, then hard and slow, one spot several times, then another until my cries became hoarse and my kicking legs grew stiff, bottom not red, but white from the force of the blows. I cried and screamed alternately until my own ears echoed with the sounds of my distress as it bounced off the cellar walls.

I didn’t care who was watching, nor who saw my private places as I scissored my legs, then twisted on her lap, exposed even my tight bottom hole to those who watched my punishment and distress. This went on and on, never ending but in actuality probably only lasted eight or ten minutes. Her spank-ing was far worse than my mother’s and I was one well spanked young man.


But I still had one more trial to endure! A strapping over the back of the chair. I was ordered to stand, turn around, bend and grab the seat of the chair. Worse of worse, I was also commanded to spread my legs apart, making my bottom taunt and prominent.

I was to receive that strapping on my already tortured bare bottom and upper thighs. I heard Mrs. J. ask if Liz and my mother had a proper view of the proceedings and I groaned, embarrassed in a very uncomfortable position and the knowledge that I was on full display in front of the others.


Then the strapping began! It was a totally new kind of hurt and pain, but it wasn’t so bad anymore. I didn’t care if it went on and on. After several strokes of the strap, the feelings sensations changed and I was again crying and pleading like a small child for my punishment to come to an end.

After 25 or 30 strokes with the strap, my afternoon of spanking finally came to a end. I had to apologize to Liz, and she was told not to talk about my punishment to any one else, on a promise of further painful spankings herself. The mothers agreed that justice had been served.

Liz told me later she was sorry I had suffered so much, but that I should not have tried to watch her spanking in the first place. I had to agree with her. Even though we were not to talk about it to others, we talked among ourselves and that led to other spanking situations that I will reserve for another time. The experiences related here happened at a time when I was just becoming very interested in the opposite sex and has forever left me with the connection of a good spanking being related to all things sexual.




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