The Christmas holiday has always been a big deal for my Dad. He gets as much of the family together as he possibly can for the last two weeks of every year. This year was no different and the house was packed with Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins. And yes, of all the cousins I am the oldest. Without going into too much detail just imagine the rudest things you could possibly say to family, double the rudeness and up the volume and you begin to get the picture of how I was behaving. So, anyway here it was Christmas day. Christmas is a dress up day for us so, I put on this extremely inappropriate burgundy, strapless with matching heels. Mom took one look at me when I came downstairs and forcefully pulled me aside. She suggested, rather strongly, that I return to my room and dress more appropriately. I very impolitely let her know that I didn't care what her opinion was or what she wanted. We got into a heated exchange and everyone was trying to pretend they weren't listening. The argument ended when Mom called me a harlot and Dad grabbed my arm and pulled me into his private office.
Dad proceeded to verbally chastise me for 6 months worth of bad behavior. After that lecture I have no doubt my Dad has an elephant's memory, cause I don't think he missed anything. I tried to interrupt him several times but, he just talked right over me. He never gave me a chance to explain anything. I guess by that point he just didn't care. He finished his tirade and the last words I can still hear in my head, "I'm not just disappointed in you, I am ashamed to have to admit you're my daughter." I doubt there was anything he could have said that would have hurt me more than that did. My response was, "You f***ing A**hole!" That didn't go over well and I had planned to follow it up with a rant of my own but, I never got the chance. Dad slapped me so hard that the next thing I new I was literally lying flat on my back looking up at him wondering what had just happened. He then announced he intended to give me the "spanking of my life" and he didn't really care if I ever talked to him again. I'd like to say I protested but, I didn't. I fell into the familiar role of; I pushed Dad too far, now I have to deal with the consequences.
Now you may be wondering why I consider this so embarrassing beyond the obvious of being spanked by Dad. First, I don't think it would've happened if I hadn't accepted it. Why I accepted it and allowed it to happen is probably rooted in that paradox of wanting the fantasy despite knowing the reality isn't the same. However, I look at it, I know I allowed it to happen and probably wanted it to happen and its even possible I manipulated the entire situation. Many of the choices I was making that led into this were in opposition to my normal character. I think I may have been purposely setting up a scenario for my own sexual satisfaction. I didn't get the sexual satisfaction out of it but, I did get a tremendous emotional release that I probably needed more. Second, it was a complete package punishment just like if I had been 17 years old. That means that I wasn't just spanked. I used profanity so, my mouth was washed out with soap and I spent 15 minutes standing in a corner with that bar of soap firmly planted in my mouth. Additionally, I spent a bit of time in that corner waiting to be spanked and again afterwards. Even worse yet was my state of dress. Dad's rule was that anything below the waist came off for a spanking. Talk about embarrassing. Third, there was only one place in the house where spankings happened and it wasn't my Dad's private office.
I felt like everyone in the house was staring at me the second I stepped out of the office and into the kitchen. They probably were, as I'm certain it was a shock to everyone. I know I was hoping the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Standing in the middle of the kitchen with my hands on my head and asking my Mom for a bar of soap so that Dad could wash my mouth was much worse than previous moments like that in my memory. Probably something to do with the audience. Dad washed my mouth out very thoroughly. I had streams of soap and saliva dripping down the entire front of my body to the floor before he was finished. He let me spit once into the sink before he planted the bar right back in my mouth and made me bite down on it. My teeth had to be well into the bar before my Dad put me in the only open corner in the kitchen and set a timer for 15 minutes. After having your teeth in a bar of soap like that for 15 minutes, the taste doesn't go away for a couple of days. When the time was up I got to spit about 4 times into the sink and Mom wiped the soap off the front of me with a towel. Completely humiliated, I had to thank my Mom for the soap before being escorted to my corner in the living room to await my spanking.
It was, without any doubt, the worst spanking of my life. Dad used both the paddle and the belt on me and he made me retrieve them separately, making it all the more humiliating. When he stopped spanking me I was reduced to a blubbering, bawling baby. I'm not sure how long I was in the corner afterwards but, it was long enough for me to stop crying and start wishing I could rub my bottom. When I was finally released from the corner, I found out the eternity that I thought had passed had of course, not. It was still morning which left me with a very long humiliating day. Most of it suffering through ridiculous questions from my Cousins like, "Did it hurt?" (No, not one bit.) or "You still get spanked?" (Where were you this morning?) or the boys favorites, "Aren't you cold?" (Did you notice the snow on the ground outside?) and "I think that suit is more revealing than the dress you were wearing. Don't you?" (Perhaps you would like to try it on?) My actual responses were more along the lines of a barely audible, "Yes." but, my thoughts were much bolder.
So, everyone of my Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins were witnesses to what has since become known as my Dad's Christmas Miracle. I can not go home for Christmas without someone mentioning how much more conservative my dresses are or how much politer I am. I guess that's what they all think drove Dad to spank me. However you look at it though, it was a very embarrassing incident and not one that will be forgotten anytime soon
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Paying For It
This is a true story of a spanking I actually witnessed as a teenager. Its quite different to see someone else get spanked than to get spanked yourself. The spanking itself was quite severe and while I won’t describe the full details of just how severe in the story here I also don’t want you to think it was a few light swats either. My friend, Rachel, was sitting very carefully for a few days after this incident and there was no way she could hide the fact she had been spanked from our classmates.
A little background first as it sets the atmosphere for the spanking and helps you perceive it as I do. Rachel is a year older than me. The event about to be described takes place in what was my Junior year in high school and therefore her Senior year. While our friendship had started out on rocky ground, we both were after the same guy, we had at this time become best friends. Rachel was very smart and graduated as her class Valedictorian. She was also athletic enough to have been a track star and pretty enough to have been a cheerleader. She was neither because of choice. For details sake, she was five foot ten inches tall, reddish blonde shoulder length hair, thin frame weighing around 110 pounds, ample buttocks, small pert breasts (B-cup if you must know), light brown eyes, and a milky white skin covered with reddish freckles. Now on to the story.
It was a Wednesday afternoon and we had stayed after school to watch our boyfriends at football practice. We were far from alone. Most girls that dated one of the players stayed and watched them practice a few times a week, some every day. I know what your thinking, "Could we get anymore cliché?" Well it was actually quite entertaining and the coach encouraged us to come because he thought the guys practiced harder when we were watching. It was probably true considering male adolescents and their obsession with being "macho." Anyway, we got a lot of good laughs that afternoon. I think they were practicing some new plays because the guys kept running into each other and the coach was red in the face from yelling at them. The practice lasted from 3:30 to 4:30 and afterward we left with our boyfriends and stopped in the local diner for some hot cider and the guys ordered some hot apple pie which they shared with us.
We were kicked back in the diner until about 5:30 or so. Rachel and I needed to be back at her house by 6:00 and the guys had to get home too. It was a school night after all and the only reason I didn't have to be home was Rachel and I had a school project we were working on together and I had permission to have dinner with her family and be home by 8:00PM that night.
When we got back to her place it was immediately obvious her Dad was not happy with her. She clearly had no idea what was up. She should have, she just didn't know she had been caught. It was almost time for dinner, but her Dad wouldn't be put off so he told his wife to delay for a few moments while he dealt with Rachel. She was looking very worried by this point. Finally, her Dad revealed what he had learned.
Apparently, Rachel had been "borrowing" money from her Mom's purse. She was normally given $20 a month as an allowance and was supposed to ask if she needed more than that for something. Her parents would then decide if it was appropriate or if she should have to save up. Well, there was a particular dress she wanted for homecoming, which was coming up, and her Mom had decided it wasn't necessary. So, Rachel had slowly been helping herself to some extra money so that she could supplement what she had saved and buy the dress.
Her Dad announced she was in need of a "good spanking" and since the money hadn't been spent yet she was going to be "lucky" and only get paddled. When told, she went and got the money and gave it to her Dad and then he sent her to get the paddle which hung on a hook in the bathroom. Rachel was very reluctant and begged, "Please not with Kelly here, Daddy." Her Dad however, was relentless and slapped her across the face for even asking. His hand left a print on her left cheek and she started crying.
Without any more protest she went and retrieved the paddle. It was big. It was a dark cherry color and the surface of it was glossy. It reminded me of petrified wood I had seen on a family vacation in the Petrified Forest in Arizona. The paddle was solid and very intimidating to look at. It was easily six inches wide and probably two feet in length, end to end. It was more than a half inch thick but less than an inch thick so somewhere in between. I remember being very thankful that it wasn't my hind end about to converse with that paddle.
She handed it to her Dad without a word, but the pleading was obvious in her body language and eyes. He took the paddle from her hand and tapped it against his leg like he was waiting for something. Rachel bit her lower lip and then unfastened her skirt and removed it. She neatly laid it over the back of the couch and then lowered he panties to her knees and bent over the back of the couch herself, next to her discarded skirt.
Her Dad raised the paddle back over his head and slammed it down into her buttocks with a whoosh punctuated by a smack and Rachel's scream, "Oooooh, One!" He then raised the paddle high up again repeated the motion. Rachel screamed louder with each repeat visit of the paddle. I was amazed at how her bottom indented and wobbled with each impact. Her bottom never went through a pink stage instead it developed straight into a brilliant red and there was little doubt that she was getting bruised as well.. She counted each swat all the way up to twenty-five. By the last few it was hard to understand her count as she was crying so hard. The amazing part to me was that she never begged him to stop or made any promises to be good. If had been me I think I would have been begging and promising anything after the thirds swat or so. It was an incredible site and despite the fact I should have been appalled at how harshly she was spanked, I found myself quite excited by her bouncing bottom and her strained counting.
She remained bent over the couch after the paddling finished until her Dad told her she could get up and go stand in a corner. While she was standing in the corner still sniffling and bare bottomed, the rest of her family and I enjoyed dinner. I felt very sorry for her and wished I was anyplace, but there. I admit I enjoyed watching her get the paddle, I just felt guilty about enjoying it afterward and wanted to go home. She was still standing in the corner when after dinner her Dad drove me home.
The next day at school I approached her and asked if she was alright. She told me that was the worst spanking she had ever had. I eventually admitted to her that I enjoyed seeing it happen and her reply was a rueful smile that led me to believe she enjoyed me watching.
A little background first as it sets the atmosphere for the spanking and helps you perceive it as I do. Rachel is a year older than me. The event about to be described takes place in what was my Junior year in high school and therefore her Senior year. While our friendship had started out on rocky ground, we both were after the same guy, we had at this time become best friends. Rachel was very smart and graduated as her class Valedictorian. She was also athletic enough to have been a track star and pretty enough to have been a cheerleader. She was neither because of choice. For details sake, she was five foot ten inches tall, reddish blonde shoulder length hair, thin frame weighing around 110 pounds, ample buttocks, small pert breasts (B-cup if you must know), light brown eyes, and a milky white skin covered with reddish freckles. Now on to the story.
It was a Wednesday afternoon and we had stayed after school to watch our boyfriends at football practice. We were far from alone. Most girls that dated one of the players stayed and watched them practice a few times a week, some every day. I know what your thinking, "Could we get anymore cliché?" Well it was actually quite entertaining and the coach encouraged us to come because he thought the guys practiced harder when we were watching. It was probably true considering male adolescents and their obsession with being "macho." Anyway, we got a lot of good laughs that afternoon. I think they were practicing some new plays because the guys kept running into each other and the coach was red in the face from yelling at them. The practice lasted from 3:30 to 4:30 and afterward we left with our boyfriends and stopped in the local diner for some hot cider and the guys ordered some hot apple pie which they shared with us.
We were kicked back in the diner until about 5:30 or so. Rachel and I needed to be back at her house by 6:00 and the guys had to get home too. It was a school night after all and the only reason I didn't have to be home was Rachel and I had a school project we were working on together and I had permission to have dinner with her family and be home by 8:00PM that night.
When we got back to her place it was immediately obvious her Dad was not happy with her. She clearly had no idea what was up. She should have, she just didn't know she had been caught. It was almost time for dinner, but her Dad wouldn't be put off so he told his wife to delay for a few moments while he dealt with Rachel. She was looking very worried by this point. Finally, her Dad revealed what he had learned.
Apparently, Rachel had been "borrowing" money from her Mom's purse. She was normally given $20 a month as an allowance and was supposed to ask if she needed more than that for something. Her parents would then decide if it was appropriate or if she should have to save up. Well, there was a particular dress she wanted for homecoming, which was coming up, and her Mom had decided it wasn't necessary. So, Rachel had slowly been helping herself to some extra money so that she could supplement what she had saved and buy the dress.
Her Dad announced she was in need of a "good spanking" and since the money hadn't been spent yet she was going to be "lucky" and only get paddled. When told, she went and got the money and gave it to her Dad and then he sent her to get the paddle which hung on a hook in the bathroom. Rachel was very reluctant and begged, "Please not with Kelly here, Daddy." Her Dad however, was relentless and slapped her across the face for even asking. His hand left a print on her left cheek and she started crying.
Without any more protest she went and retrieved the paddle. It was big. It was a dark cherry color and the surface of it was glossy. It reminded me of petrified wood I had seen on a family vacation in the Petrified Forest in Arizona. The paddle was solid and very intimidating to look at. It was easily six inches wide and probably two feet in length, end to end. It was more than a half inch thick but less than an inch thick so somewhere in between. I remember being very thankful that it wasn't my hind end about to converse with that paddle.
She handed it to her Dad without a word, but the pleading was obvious in her body language and eyes. He took the paddle from her hand and tapped it against his leg like he was waiting for something. Rachel bit her lower lip and then unfastened her skirt and removed it. She neatly laid it over the back of the couch and then lowered he panties to her knees and bent over the back of the couch herself, next to her discarded skirt.
Her Dad raised the paddle back over his head and slammed it down into her buttocks with a whoosh punctuated by a smack and Rachel's scream, "Oooooh, One!" He then raised the paddle high up again repeated the motion. Rachel screamed louder with each repeat visit of the paddle. I was amazed at how her bottom indented and wobbled with each impact. Her bottom never went through a pink stage instead it developed straight into a brilliant red and there was little doubt that she was getting bruised as well.. She counted each swat all the way up to twenty-five. By the last few it was hard to understand her count as she was crying so hard. The amazing part to me was that she never begged him to stop or made any promises to be good. If had been me I think I would have been begging and promising anything after the thirds swat or so. It was an incredible site and despite the fact I should have been appalled at how harshly she was spanked, I found myself quite excited by her bouncing bottom and her strained counting.
She remained bent over the couch after the paddling finished until her Dad told her she could get up and go stand in a corner. While she was standing in the corner still sniffling and bare bottomed, the rest of her family and I enjoyed dinner. I felt very sorry for her and wished I was anyplace, but there. I admit I enjoyed watching her get the paddle, I just felt guilty about enjoying it afterward and wanted to go home. She was still standing in the corner when after dinner her Dad drove me home.
The next day at school I approached her and asked if she was alright. She told me that was the worst spanking she had ever had. I eventually admitted to her that I enjoyed seeing it happen and her reply was a rueful smile that led me to believe she enjoyed me watching.
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