Nine year old Lucy stayed seated while her parents talked too quietly for her to hear. She never got spanked with her brothers. Their parents sometimes spanked their bare bottoms so it was decided long ago that they didn't need to get spanked together. She had seen her little brothers get a swat or two as a warning over the pants, but other than that she had only seen her brothers' butts when they were little and ran around naked. Their parents' rule was by the time you were five you were too old to run around naked. So once you turned five you got spanked for being in anything other than underwear. Then Mr. Parker went to the basement stairs and closed the door behind him.
Lucy watched fearfully as her mother went into her bedroom and came out with her wooden hairbrush. Mrs. Parker sat on a kitchen chair and beckoned her daughter over to her. Lucy approached slowly until she was within arm's reach and her mother swiftly turned her over her knee.
I called Sam over, and was pleased to see that she was crying already. She very quickly lay across my knee, probably keen to get it over, though clenching her buns tight together.
I sharply told her not to, she obeyed, and I began.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!
It was almost a repeat performance, though I was intrigued to see how Sam's buns quivered furiously as they began to redden - much more than Kevins' - also how she began to scream and kick much sooner than Kevin had. I did suspect, though, that she was acting a little, in an effort to get me to stop but I have to admit that I was slightly more lenient than with Kevin, since she had had the extra punishment of waiting and anticipation. I still made those bare round bottie-cheeks bright red all over, though.
Next, our dad pulled ten year old Kathy over his knee and spanked her underpants covered butt with the hairbrush. Since she is a girl, and is more sensitive than boys, he only gave her five whacks, and then, while she sobbed from those five hard whacks, he pulled her underpants down to her knees. Then, she cried hysterically as he gave her bare butt ten whacks, and then made her clean the room too with her underpants still at her knees. She obeyed.
My husband and I spank our kids when needed. We use a long plastic black shoe horn that’s a concaved curved 1” wide and 20” long. It stings like the devil when our kids are over our knees getting their cute little cotton covered buns set on fire. In our family the kids get one swat per age year on their underpants. If they do the same conduct within a month the swats double, but the second set is on the bare.
Both kids are crying their eyes out during their spankings, but when their Dad bares their butts they beg and bawl for it to stop. Even the double spankings only leave their buns dark red with a few marks that all fade by the next morning.
Late in the day, I went to fetch water at a nearby spring, and seven year old Mary came with me. We hadn't gone two hundred yards when Mrs. Jones caught up to us. She sternly told the girl, "I told you not to go with him!", and as she spoke she tore a willow branch from a nearby bush. She whacked the girl across her legs once; twice; a third time, causing immediate shrieks and squalls, and I watched, confused, and embarrassed. Then some impulse made me speak up: "No! Don't whip her. It wasn't her fault; I asked her along. I'm the one who needs spanking!" While I still had some momentum, I breathlessly went on, "I've been naughty. I threw the rock at the marmots, and I've done lots of other bad things and I deserve to be whipped like those men at the prison!" I hastily amended this, "Not that HARD, but with a leather strap and no clothes on." She had stopped her switching until I ran out of breath and words, and she said nothing but looked at me with a very strange expression. Then she turned back to her daughter and unleashed another half dozen swats with the switch. Crying girl and angry mother strode back down the trail, leaving me with a flood of emotions, a pounding heart, and some serious second thoughts about what I had just said. To this day, I can't remember if I got that bucket of water or not.
"Come off it Emily!" I said loudly over her shouting. "I heard you! You said that James's jacket smelled like the s word! Don't try to deny it!"
Emily's face went from shock to sick fear. Swearing was a spankable offense in the Hewit household. Emily had recently discovered that repeating certain words that her older brother's (Brad and Sean) sometimes used, would get her a lot of attention from said brothers. They thought it was hilarious when she said these words and would often ask her to say them (even though she didn't even know what they meant). However, she was caught last week, using these words whilst playing and was given a stern talking to about how she was never to use them again. My parents made it very clear that if they heard about her saying any naughty words again, she would be spanked. No exceptions.
My mom had heard enough. She grabbed up Emily and left James and I standing in the foyer to unpack our backpacks and start our homework. As we went to our room we could hear the SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! of a very sound spanking taking place in Emily's room.
Before they could speak, or react, their father had lifted Grace up, and pulled her skirt and panties down to her ankles, then threw her on the top of the kitchen table, face down. The strap cracked into Grace's twelve year old white buttocks, searing into the flesh, pushing it down, and separating her cheeks as the busy leather visited every inch of her buttocks, finally ending with a blazing trail of red on her thighs. Grace was lifted up, and stood up on her feet. Her face contorted in pain, her hands rubbing her bottom furiously, tears and snot dripping down her blouse, surprising the boys by showing her little mound.
Sobering somewhat, their father started to yell and swear at Grace, saying she was in charge, and it was her fault. The boys were petrified, and could not speak up. Grace was made to finish setting the table, and cooking dinner, with nothing covering her little backside which was now turning a deep blue color, with splotches of bright red everywhere.
"I am going to turn your heinie into hamburger, young man" Mom shoved down hard on my upper back, positioned her knee to block my legs from flying up protectively, and rested the paddle against my skivvies like she always did, to adjust her grip and aim. Oh God, the very touch of that slab of wood made my flesh crawl, and I gritted my teeth against the firestorm to follow.
Only it didn't come. There was nothing but thick silence ... and the applause of tiny hands coming from the adjacent dining room.
"Janie, you should go outdoors and not watch this." Mom's voice got a lot more, well, maternal.
"But I wanna see!" Sis gushed, and added hopping up and down to her happy ovation.
Mom was poised like a statue for a few seconds, hawk eyes transfixed on Sis, and then said "I want to see something too. Come here."
My sister flounced gaily into the room, delighted at the prospect of a front row seat for brother's latest disaster epic.
Mom rested the paddle on my back and let go of it, to free a hand so she could reach out and clutch Sis' tiny paws. She twisted them back and forth, examining them closely. "Janie, how did you get black permanent ink all over your fingers?"
My sister's hopping came to a screeching halt and a look of consternation flooded over her face.
Mom could add up the clues as fast as Dad could, when she wanted to. "Why you scheming, conniving little [outlawed synonym for poop], you tried to set your brother up by painting a mustache on yourself?"
Even teetering on the precipice of doom, I had to pause and admire. For a five-year-old, that was a pretty slick dirty trick.
Sis began her usual cats-in-heat squeal. "But it wasn't me, it wasn't, Bernie tied me up and made me sit there while he painted ink all over my fingers, and, and, and ..."
"And you forgot to mention it to me the minute he set you free?"
"Oh wait, wait, now I remember, it was gremlins, the ones that live in the basement, they put magic on me so I couldn't talk, then tied me up and painted ink all over my ... "
I was feeling very gentle hands pulling my pants back up, lifting me carefully off the arm of the sofa, and setting me on my feet. There was even a loving pat on my head tossed in for good measure. "I'm so sorry, Bernie," Mom said with genuine pain, "I almost made a terrible mistake. It seems I had the wrong person over the armrest with her dress pulled up to her neck."
"Can I watch?" I asked greedily, suppressing the urge to hop up and down and applaud.
"I think you should go outdoors for a few minutes, dear, I'll call when it's all right to come back in. And I think you can plan on an extra dessert tonight, since Janie won't be getting hers."
"Okay, Mom!" I was very agreeable as I belted for the kitchen door, went out into the backyard, circled around, and stood on tiptoe so I could peer through the dining room picture window, which gave just the right angle of view into the living room as Sis took my parking spot on the sofa arm, wearing the back of her dress up around her ears, screaming something about basement gremlins ...
I ducked as the paddle began its work and a huge fireball came blasting through the glass of the picture window, punctuated by a delightful sibling howl of pain and outrage and terror ...
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Dad paused, as I lay draped over his lap in a boneless puddle with my tail end absolutely afire, and he did a fast count on his fingers. "Shucks. Was that last one twenty five or twenty six?"
"Ten." my sister piped from her seat on the little wooden rocking chair.
"No fair." I managed to gasp somehow in between waves of white-hot pain. "She can only count to ten."
Dad was still calculating. "Had to be twenty five. Math is my living. So ..."
I clenched my teeth again. I'd have clenched my buttock muscles too but there was nothing back there now but a radioactive crater.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
There, that would make thirty. Or three hundred. I sort of lost count myself because the agony was excruciating.
Dad paused again. "Well, I suppose all good things must come to an end, so ..." SMACK! SMACK! "Thirty two." He came to a halt at last, and waved the smoke away with a cough.
I could only manage a choked sob of relief because my throat was raw from screaming and crying.
"Aw, it's over?" Sis griped.
"We're playing Tarzan." Dickie hazarded. "We got the idea from the matinee at the theater last week."
"Makes sense." Sally said thoughtfully. "You need a Jane, then." she reached up and pulled her jumper right off and tossed it aside, then sat down in her panties to work her shoes and socks off.
She ditched the last shoe and sock and stood up, and ... well, nothing suggested romance. Skinned down like that, she was all arms and legs and ribs ... in fact, she looked a lot like us except for long red pigtails and bright yellow drawers. "What do I do, climb the rope or just go up the trunk?"
"Hmmm." Sally stepped forward and gave the rope a few experimental tugs, while Dickie and I both turned on Paul and hissed "Are you crazy? What do you want her up here with us for?"
"Wait and see." Paul grinned back.
"This is easier in the movies." Sally frowned, but took a little leap and was hanging from the rope. "Tarzan made an elevator for Jane that she could sit on."
Sally was about halfway up the rope when she stopped trying and hung there, panting so hard her cheeks puffed out. "Somebody give me a boost!"
I reached up on tip-toe, gripped her bright yellow pants by the waistband, and made a downward-sideways whipping motion like a magician pulling his cloak sharply away to reveal his trick. "Ta-DAH!"
[Sound Department: insert one Unholy Screech From Hell here]
Sally dangled there, wildly bellowing and kicking, her rosy nether cheeks exposed once again to the world. Okay, it was more like a private showing but revenge was sweet. Last year on top of the monkey bars, I managed to defrock her in front of a recess yard full of kids while trying to arrest a bad fall. The teacher had blistered my behind to a turn for it, unintentional though it was. Sally gave me a lot of outraged verbal static over the balance of the school year. Technically I got avenged – my Sis came up with a dirty trick that got her in huge trouble too – but to escape suspicion I was forced to be elsewhere and missed all the fun. But not this time.
She slowly - very slowly - shuffled forward. He waited patiently - I think he'd have waited an hour if needed, as long as there was some perceptible forward motion. Amelia arrived behind the chair.
Slowly - even more slowly than she'd walked - Amelia went over the chair. As soon as she was in position, her mother lifted her skirt, exposing her knicker clad bottom. Her mother whispered something to her, and her whole body shuddered - and she put her legs together tightly. Her mother stepped behind her, blocking her from my view and pulled down her underwear, before stepping away. I now had a clear view of Amelia's bare bottom. Now, yes, I had seen it before - but surreptitiously. I'd never had this type of view.
Mr Connolly lined up the cane, and then brought it back - and swung it down. It was a good, firm stroke. Nothing like the massive swings I'd seen from some of the Masters at school, but they were highly experienced experts. Mr Connolly was a novice and I don't think he intended to hit as hard as they did either. But it was a firm stroke, and Amelia shrieked at it and straightened up. Her hands flew around to cover her bottom.
"Please, no more, Daddy!"
"Five more, actually - six more if you're not back over that chair by the time I count to three. One... two..."
She got back into position. He took aim again and the second stroke was a carbon copy of the first. And so was Amelia's reaction.
Her father roared, "ONE, TWO..."
She struggled back down. "I will not count again, Amelia. You stand up again and I start again right from the start. I don't want to give you more than six - but if you make me, I will do so."
Mrs Connolly placed her hands on her daughters shoulders. I could see the two red lines blossoming on Amelia's bottom - it was quivering. Her whole body was. Mr Connolly looked at his wife and nodded - silent communication but the meaning was clear. Mrs Connolly was going to hold Amelia down so she didn't earn extra strokes.
He brought the cane back up - and brought it down firmly. Amelia shrieked again. Within a second he brought it back up and down again - and then a third time, and finally a fourth. The last four strokes were delivered in rapid succession. Amelia's screaming became worse at each stroke. She was incoherent when she was allowed to stand.
She couldn't obey her fathers instructions. Her mother pulled her knickers up and pulled her skirt down into position and then lead her by the hand over next to where I was standing, and turned her around so she was facing the chair.
His wife spoke. "She's only 12..."
"If she's old enough to be doing things like this, she is old enough for the cane."
Susan came back into the room - and she fell to her knees.
"P...p...lease, D...d...addy. I'll n...n...n...ever do it again!"
"Get up, Susan. Please don't make this any harder than it has to be. Nathan - could you move the armchair into the centre of the room. Then stand over there."
I did as I was told. Lucy and Mrs Connolly helped Susan up and took her to the armchair. I'd been told to stand behind the chair - a few yards behind it. And I realised I was in a very similar position to that I had been in when I'd seen William flogged at school, and Amelia flogged in this room. And I was going to witness this as well. Pure justice in this case, I suppose.
Justice enough that Susan didn't complain - although maybe she was still young enough that she didn't really care.
"Susan," Mr Connolly spoke. "I am going to cane you for spying on Nathan while he was showering. Now bend over the back of the chair."
She had to stand on her tip toes to do it. As soon as she was in position, her mother lifted her skirt out of the way, and I could see her knickers - pale blue with little yellow flowers. Her mother pulled them down to her knees and I was looking at a very small, very white bottom. It looked no different from the bottom of any twelve year old boys I had seen.
Her mother then moved around in front of her and placed her hands on her shoulders to hold her down. And Mr Connolly laid the cane across the centre of her bottom, brought it back and slashed it down. Not particularly hard - nowhere near as hard as he had caned Amelia a couple of weeks earlier - but enough to hurt certainly. And he brought the cane back immediately and straight back down. Four strokes, very fast, covering all of that tiny bottom - and then two more, softer, but still most definitely painful, on the upper part of her legs. Then he tucked the cane under his arm, bent down and pulled up her underpants, as her mother released her shoulders. Her hands fled around to her bottom, and her father wrapped his other arm - the one without a cane under it around her and held her close for a minute before letting her go into her mothers arms.
“There is only one cure for temper tantrums,” said father getting up. He lifted Janet out of her chair, sat down again and put Janet over his knee.
“Bare bum! Bare bum!” John intoned inside his head. “I always get it bare bum.”
Whether father picked up the vibrations from John’s brain or had already made up his mind, he had pulled up Janet’s dress and tugged down her knickers before she realised what was happening. A flurry of hard spanks descended on her bottom. Janet’s hysterical sobbing turned into proper crying as for the first time in her life she felt a spanking.
John maintained a “goodness what a wicked child” face, but felt the utmost satisfaction at seeing his sister get spanked – all the more so since she was totally innocent.
Set on her feet, Janet pulled up her knickers.
“Up to your room and stay there,” ordered father.
Dad took his shower and shed a few tears. He dried off, got dressed and retrieved the paddlebrush that was on the vanity and took off for Lindsey's room.
She was sitting in the middle of her bed pajama clad when he walked in. She saw the paddlebrush in his hand and started crying, "Please don't give me a spankin' with the brush, daddy! Please! I'm sorry!"
"You're not getting a spanking with the paddlebrush, Lindsey Rachel. I am going to spank you with my hand today. If you ever show your behind like you did today again, I will give you a bare bottomed spanking with this paddlebrush, do you hear me?," Daddy said.
"Yes, sir," 6 yr old Lindsey said.
"Ok, good.," Dad said as he sat down on her bed, "Get across my lap."
Lindsey obeyed and draped herself across her Daddy's lap. He lowered her pj's and bared her bottom. His one hand covered both her bottom cheeks. He rubbed it a couple of times before he lifted it to spank her about 20 solid times.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," a crying Lindsey said when her spankin' was over.
He rubbed the bottom he'd just spanked and said, "I'm sorry that I had to give you a spanking today, sweetie. I love you. You are to stay in your room until tomorrow, not leaving unless you have to go to the bathroom."
Daddy pulled up her pj bottoms, gave her a kiss and left with the paddlebrush in hand.
Daddy found 11 yr old Whitney writing in her journal at her desk when he walked in her room. He sat down on the edge of her bed and called her over to him. She stood in front of him in a gown. He beckoned her over his lap and she went obediently.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," Whitney said in tears, "I didn't mean to be bad."
"I accept your apology," Daddy said as he lifted his 11 yr old daughter's gown to bare her bottom, "and you're forgiven.," He said rubbing her bare bottom with his hand., "I'm spanking you because you did not obey me when I said for all of you to stick together. If you're in that position again, you take the phone and call me immediately. I'm going to give you 20 handspanks and 10 with the paddlebrush."
He then made his promise true. He spanked her bare bottom 20 times with his hand, slow and deliberate. Ten times each side, alternating. She was crying out loud from the 4th one. He picked up the paddlebrush and said, "I want you to count out loud each spank from this brush. Ready?"
Whitney was a bawling, crying mess over her Daddy's lap.
"Shhhh, shhhh," Daddy said, rubbing her flaming behind, "It's ok. It's all over."
"I'm soooo sorryyyyyyyyyy.," Whitney cried.
Daddy held his daughter tight for a few minutes and said, "You have to stay in your room until tomorrow, sweets."
"Yes, sir," Whit replied rubbing her bottom, crying with understanding.
He patted her bottom, gave her a kiss on the back of the head.
Sarah stood up, but looked down at the ground. The woman asked her daughter what David had done to deserve a spanking.
Sarah muttered something about how irritating he had been. The woman was not impressed, and David was put down. Sarah was promptly ordered to put her hands on her head. She began to cry, tears flowed freely down her face, and she pleaded to go home. But her hands went straight onto her head. Sarahs white knickers were clearly displayed, as her short dress rode up.
Mum then started to slap the legs of the girl. Two slaps on the right leg, then two on the left. On and on it went, until each leg had received ten slaps. The whole play area was counting. After each stinging blow, Sarah twisted and shook the offended thigh, but never took her hands down. When it was done, each leg had a reddened patch, with distinct finger-marks around the edges.
Finally Sarah got her wish. She was ordered home. This did not seem to please her, however, as she continued to cry profusely. Sarah ran home, rubbing the backs of her thighs as she went. David held his mothers hand as they walked home.
Come on, uncross your legs, I can't get over your knee like that".
He stared, and complied. She gently lowered herself across his knee. Her small round bottom was just wonderful to behold. He found himself resting his hand on it, feeling its warmness. He lifted his hand.
"Hang on", she said, "a girl's bottom should always be bare for a smacking, especially if the boy doing it is going to get pleasure out of it."
They tiptoed closer to the horsebox. With the lower half of the door closed it was clear that, unless they climbed up, they would not be able to see inside. Tempting though it was to risk it, good sense prevailed. They stood to one side of the horse box, ready to beat a hasty retreat, they hoped unobserved, when anyone emerged. Their hearts were beating wildly as they listened and imagined what the scene must look like.
'Right Sofia, you can be first, over my knee.'
'But someone might hear Daddy.'
'You should have thought of that before you did it.'
There was a sound of movement. Then Sofia's voice again.
'Hey Daddy, not my knickers too.'
'Shut up and stay still.'
Then there was a loud retort. It was the unmistakable sound of a hand crashing down onto a bottom.
'Ouch, that hurt.'
'Of course it hurt. It's meant to. And if you're so worried about people knowing what's happening to you I suggest you stay silent.'
There was another loud slap and another, though more muted, squeal of pain from Sofia. There were four more smacks before Mr Rushley spoke again.
'Your turn Caroline. Over my knee.'
Caroline clearly didn't think it worth protesting about having her knickers pulled down. She said nothing. But the boys heard her voice immediately after the first smack.
'Owwww, Daddy, please, I promise I'll be good.'
He didn't reply, unless you call another loud slap a reply.
'Please, please Daddy, I'll never be naughty again.'
The begging had no effect. She got her full quota of six smacks.
The drawing room door was open as he passed it and he caught a glimpse of a domestic scene which he immediately understood. Lucinda Grey was draped across her father's knee, with her jeans and knickers down, kicking uselessly with both feet. Rupert clearly saw her slim round bottom for a second. It was already pink and, just as he passed, he saw her father's hand descending once again and heard the familiar loud slapping noise as it connected with her firm flesh.
Just before the dining room door closed behind them, Rupert heard Lucinda's voice. She wasn't actually crying, but she was begging.
"Please Daddy, I promise I'll be good". And then another slap.
Rupert understood Mrs Grey's embarrassment. He quickly delivered his message and pleaded an urgent need to get to the village. But, once outside, he slipped behind a hedge in the hope of seeing Lucinda come out. He was not to be disappointed. After about five minutes he saw the front door open again and Lucinda emerged. She was wearing a white T shirt and tight blue jeans. He noticed one hand stroking the bottom which he had just seen free of the jeans. He stared at her for a few minutes as she walked towards the shed where he knew her bicycle to be kept. He suddenly realised that, undeveloped though she was, she was extraordinarily attractive, in a tom boyish sort of way. She was tall and slim. Her short blonde hair was styled with a delightful fringe. Her complexion was incredibly clear and face was wonderfully pretty. That was the moment he realised he was in love.
Lindsey stood in front of her Daddy in the guest room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulled her across his lap, pulled her shorts and panties down to display her pudgy, white, 6 yr old bottom. She was crying before the first spank hit her bared bottom.
Daddy gave her a really hard spanking with the wooden spoon on her bare bottom. About 25 in all before she was lying like a limp noodle, sobbing her eyes out over his lap. He scooped her up and cradled her, kissing her head.
"I'm sorry I had to give you such a hard spanking, Linds. I love you so much."
"I'm sorry, too, Daddy. I won't get baby Jake up again. I promise!"
"It's ok, Linds," Daddy said into her hair while rubbing her burning bottom, "It's all over now. Shhhh."
"Now go on up to your room.," Daddy said while pulling her panties and shorts back up., "You are grounded there until supper tonight. I love you."
"I love you too, Daddy.," Linds replied as she trotted off to her room rubbing her burning bottom through her shorts.
"That's it! That IS it!," Dad said as soon as he hung up the phone, "You are BOTH getting spankings when we get home. Since you both are intent on arguing through my phone call, I'm going to give you spankings side by side. With the belt! When we get home, I want you both to go to the guest room and take off your pants, put a pillow over the edge of the bed, and lie across it. I will bare both your bottoms when I come in with the belt. Then I am going to blister both your behinds together so the next time I tell you to cut it out, you will, without hesitation. Am I clear?," Dad said.
Will, knowing there was no use in arguing when Dad said he was spankin' you said, "Yes, sir."
Whitney, who'd never had a bare bottom spanking with the belt started crying immediately saying, "Please, don't give me a spankin' with the belt, Daddy! Please, I'll be good! I promise! Please don't daddy!"
"I'm sorry, hon, you should've listened to me when I asked you to stop the first time. You'd been warned. And now you're going to get a spanking with the belt.," Dad answered.
When they got home, Dad went upstairs to check on the sick ones, while Will and Whitney headed to the guest room. About five minutes later, Dad came in the guest room, belt in hand, to find his 11 yr old twins exactly the way he told them to be. Bottoms up with underwear and panties each lying over a pillow.
Whitney was crying when Daddy walked in the room and she saw the belt in his hand she completely broke down and said, "Please dont Daddy!"
He ignored her and walked over to both of them and lowered Whit's panties first and then Will's underwear. He decided he'd alternate licks between the both of them and wasted no time in doing so. He raised the belt and brought it down on Whit's bared bottom first.
SPANK! "OOOHHHHH that hurts!"
SPANK! Dad landed the belt right below the first one, overlapping it just a little bit. "OOWWWWIIIEEEEEEEEE!"
SPANK! Dad landed the belt right on top of the first one. "Ow!"
SPANK! the belt landed above the first one, overlapping it a little.
"DADDDYYYYY!!! NOOOO MORRREEEEEE!!"
SPANK! Dad landed the belt right on top of the first two. "OWWW," Will said, legs beginning to scissor and toes digging in the floor, tears forming.
SPANK! Dad landed the belt on top of the first one. "THAT HURTSSSSSSSSSS!" her legs scissoring and her hands trying to reach back to protect her bottom. Dad let her rub for a second while he gave Will another lick.
SPANK! the 4th one landed on top of the first 3. "OUCH! OOHHHH!," Will said legs completely scissored, Dad getting exactly the result he wanted!
"Whitney Danielle, I want your hands completely out of the way, and you may not bring them back again, or I will start your spanking all over, understand?," Dad said raising the belt again and instead of delivering one lick, he delivered two in a row, to her sit spot, the part where her bottom meets thigh.
"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW," Whitney was completely broken and sobbing, trying her best not to put her hands back on her blazing bottom, "PLEASEEEE NO MORRREEEEEE DADDIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! the 5th, 6th, and 7th landed a little below the first 4, on his sit spot and Will was fully crying and begging for his spankin' to be over, "I"M SORRRRRYYYYYYYYYY DADDDDIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!"
"You've got 3 more each, Whitney, I'll give you two now, then give Will his last three and then I will give you your last one, Whit.," Dad said as he picked up the belt again.
SPANK! SPANK! Right on top of the sit spot. She couldn't do anything but cry into the bed it just hurt so much!
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! Will was also sobbing into the bed, completely limp like a noodle.
At the end of their spankings, Dad pulled up their underwear and panties and said, "I hope you've learned your lesson you two. You can get your pants on and go to your room when you're ready. I'm sorry I had to give you spankings and I love you both very much." And with a kiss to the back of each of their heads and one last look at their blazing behinds, he left the room.
When they came out about 10 mins later, Will and Whitney gave dad a hug and said they were sorry for acting the way they did in the car and promised never to do it again.
"I'm sorry, Whit, didn't mean to get you a spankin'," Will told his sister.
"I'm sorry, too, Will. I didn't mean to get you a spankin' either," Whit replied.
They both slept on their tummies that night.
At school on the following day Laura and Katy confided to the boys that they had, indeed, both been spanked. In both cases, their fathers had pulled their skirts up and their knickers down and applied the backs of hairbrushes to their bottoms. Both assured the boys, however, that it had all been worth it, and at least they hadn't been grounded, which would have been "really gross."
He turned back around to face them. "I cannot permit this behavior. I am certain one of you did it and that whoever it was is lying to escape punishment. It won't work. If the one of you who broke the vase does not come forward, I shall punish you all in turn. Do I make myself clear?"
The children said nothing. Margaret looked confused. Jane had a hard, bitter look on her face, and Timothy was blushing.
Their father pulled out the chair from his desk and sat facing them. "You've had your chance. Jane, come here, please."
Jane stood proudly. Her lip quivered but she betrayed no other reaction. She went to her father and bent across his lap. Margaret looked on, wide-eyed with horror, as he spanked Jane's bottom hard. Jane got up, tears running down her cheeks, and sat back on the couch. She struggled to keep from crying.
Timothy was already crying. Their father said, "Now Tim, come here." As he stood up and went to his father, Timothy blubbered, "Oh, please, Father!" But their father said nothing. He put Timothy over his knee and gave him a vigorous spanking. Timothy went and sat back down, bawling loudly.
Margaret was crying now, too. "It's not fair, I didn't do it!"
"If you didn't do it, Margaret, you must tell me who did. Otherwise you must take the same punishment as the others."
"I - I can't!"
He reached out and caught her arm, pulling her to him and flinging her easily over his knee. She, too, received several ringing slaps on the rear.
When he had finished with her she went over to the couch and kicked her brother Timothy. "You beast!" she said through the tears.
Jane then punched her brother's arm. "How could you?" she shouted.
Their father said, "What's this?"
Margaret said, "Timothy did it! He broke the vase and hid it at the bottom of the wastebasket! We saw him!"
"Timothy, come here and bend right over the back of the couch."
The back of the couch came to just a little above Timothy's waist. By standing on tip-toe, he could bend over it, leaning his arms on the seat and with his head against the cushions. He was bent almost double with his bottom sticking up in the air. His bottom was red from the spanking he had received just a few minutes earlier.
His father raised his arm behind him, then brought the belt cracking forward against Timothy's bottom. Timothy gasped and began to cry again. His father beat him steadily, leaving dark red stripes against his bottom, often striking the backs of his legs as well.
Margaret turned her head away, unwilling to look. But Jane's eyes were bright and she stared eagerly at the flogging. She breathed in unison with her father, almost grunting with effort as he did. When it was over she gave a shuddering sigh of pleasure. She had almost forgotten the spanking her father had given her. In any case, it was well worth it for the spectacle she had been given to watch. She began to imagine the whipping she would give her dolly when she found herself alone.
The next thing you know, Lindsey, his pain in the butt little sister said "Andy's gettin' a spankin'! Andy's gettin' a spankin'!," in a sing-song teasing voice.
In one fell swoop, Dad had Lindsey over his lap, her pants and panties down and spankin' her bare bottom with his hand for all to see saying, "You may not tease your brothers or sisters when they are going to get a spanking or when they have gotten a spanked, young lady! DO (spank!) YOU (spank!) UNDERSTAND (spank!) ME(spank!)?"
"Now you apologize to your brother for teasing him and you will do his clearing and your part tonight too little girl! I am very disappointed in your behavior. Go straight to bed when you're finished, do I make yourself clear?," Dad told her in a no non-sense way.
"I uh I uh I'm soh oh ry," Lindsey said to Andy still sobbing and then to Dad she said, "I uh 'm so oh ryyyyyyyy daddyyyyyyyy"
"It's ok Linds," Andy told her and went to his room.
"I love you Linds," Dad told her while he held her on his lap rubbing her bottom, "but you are not allowed to act the way you did tonight, do you understsand me?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, getting her emotions under control a little more.
"Good. I don't ever want you to do that again or try to watch any of your brother's or sister's getting a spanking like you did the other night. I don't like to spank any of you, but I will when there is disobedience. And if you try to watch, then what happens to you when you get caught?" dad asked her.
"Uh I uh get a spankin'."
"Yes you do young lady. In front of everyone too didn't you?"
"Yes, sir," she said sheepishly, "I'm really sorry daddy."
"Ok, Linds, you're forgiven. Go ahead and get busy with clean-up. I've got to go give Andy a spanking. I love you baby girl.," Dad said as he let her down off his lap with a kiss to the back of her head.
Terri just sat there when mommy and daddy stared at her.
"Naughty little girls get punished so that they will be good little girls." he said authoritatively. He got up and took Terri by the hand and led her back to his chair. After sitting down, he continued. "Naughty little girls get spanked."
He pulled his cousin over his lap and held her fast with one hand. He raised her dress, exposing her panties, and tucked it under his arm. Then he slipped his other hand under the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. "A proper spanking must be on the bare bottom." He declared as he raised his arm and
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
Terri started to protest.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
Terri started to cry.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
Terri switched to bawling.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
Timmy stopped spanking her and led her to the corner. Susie got into the sprit of things by pinning up Terri dress so her hot red bottom was showing.
Mike yelled: "ELIZABETH NATHALIE FORDHAM! Come here immediately."
Jerod bellowed: "KATHERINE MEAGAN HATCH! COME HERE INSTANTLY!" Then, in a surprisingly softer voice, "Sid, please come here."
Confronted, the girls quickly confessed their most naughty deed. Sid kept his mouth tightly closed for telling his father that he had been unjust and untrusting would not be a good thing to do, especially in front of others. He did enjoy the proceedings, however, unlike his sister and her friend as he was vindicated.
As he watched both girls were stripped (just like he had been at that age) to their birthday suits. There were tears in their eyes already. They were then thoroughly lectured about how extremely naughty they had been and how they were going to pay a heavy price. It was only then that they were pulled over the parental laps. Sid positioned himself to get the best view of his sister's bottom. He knew that she often got away with things that he had been soundly spanked for years earlier. Today he was most angry with her for causing his own unjustified whipping. It was very rare that he was permitted to watch as his father's hand came crashing down on that target leaving a bright red hand print. As spank after spank landed, the hand prints blurred into a general redness covering her little behind.
Of course, the tears flowed like Niagara; the crying was loud. Sid almost tried to stop his father for he had always protected his little sister but the pain still causing his own ass to throb kept him still. Then it was over. Both fathers held their little precious yet very naughty girls as they cried. Sid, for the first time, began to understand what his father meant by 'this hurts me more than you' that he said when he had been spanked. Both girls were told that they would be raking the lawn until it was clear of leaves. Still naked they were required to apologize to Sid.
It was after dinner on Friday that Katy knocked on Sid's door. When she came in, she immediately, said: "Sidney, I was a very naughty girl to cause you to get a strapping. I'm very, very sorry. Please give me the spanking I deserve."
Sid was sitting on his bed and indicated that she should come over to him. "I'm sorry too, little sister." He paused as he did not really want to do this but his father had explained how it would help Katy. "Yes, you were very naughty and have earned a spanking." Katy stood very still, looking at the floor. Sid, following how their father had done this, slowly undressed his little sister. Normally she would have run away, but she had made up her mind that she would take what was coming to her. He removed her blouse and then her jeans. As this happened she lost her slippers leaving her in just panties. She was dreading this the most – her brother removing her panties. She was surprised when he just eased her over his lap with them up. This was all as he had discussed with their father.
"You've been a very naughty little girl, Katherine." he said in a voice not very familiar. She felt his left-hand grip her waist to hold her in place. Next, rather than starting to spank her, his right hand grabbed the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. Only then did she get the first spank. It was not so hard. Sid was comparing the soft sound of his spank had made with what he had heard when their father had spanked her; how little the color of her little bottom had changed in response. The next spank was much harder. This sounded and looked a lot better.
Kate felt this one and made a small sound. She knew that she would soon cry but she did not want to on the first spank. The next spank, the second real one, got to her and she yelled. She yelled for the next dozen and was crying also. Sid picked her up and held her tightly. She hugged him back as she cried. Her bottom hurt a lot; not as much as when her father spanked very hard, but she knew that she had been well spanked. She was comforted by her brother telling her she was forgiven and that he loved her. Eventually she stopped crying and ran off to bed. The hurt that she had in her heart was now in her bottom and that was a lot better.
"I think it's only right that Tom watch this, just as you liked to watch him get spanked. Now take off your pants."
Erin started to cry softly as she unzipped her jeans and stepped out of them.
"Now your underpants," I said sternly.
She stepped out of those too and stood blushing, her hand cupped between her legs.
"Are you just going to leave those on the floor?" I asked.
She cried as she picked up her pants, folded them neatly and put them on the arm of the couch, then picked up her underwear and put them on top of her pants.
"Tom, have a seat," I said, indicating the chair opposite the couch. He sat down, leaning forward eagerly.
I sat on the couch and told Erin to lie across my lap. She did so. At twelve, she was just starting to be pubescent, and her bottom was full and round. I gave it a gentle pat, then took the hairbrush in my right hand.
"You have a lot to be sorry for, Erin, and I hope you'll apologize properly to Tom. But right now you're going to get the spanking you earned and probably should have got several times over the past few years. I hope you're ready. This might take a while."
And then I brought down the hairbrush across her buttocks. She gasped and started. I began at about half-strength, which with the hairbrush was still painful enough to reduce her to tears and squirming immediately. As I continued, alternating from one side to the other and across both, I gradually increased the force. Occasionally I would aim for the upper thighs. By the time I had finished I was spanking her harder than her mother would have been able, her bottom and upper thighs were a dusky red, and she was hoarse with bawling.
Tom was having the time of his life. All that was missing for him was the popcorn.
'Your friend Gillian suffered additional wrath for that transgression.’
‘She doesn’t mind.’
‘Oh I think she did.’
Uncle James beamed a satisfactory smile. He was remembering, with exquisite pleasure, the upturned bottom of young Gillian Jones. Jeans and pants lowered to her knees she had suffered around fifty strokes of Mrs Wilmer’s strap to her bare behind. And he had witnessed it all.
‘Your Mrs Wilmer is an exceptional lady. When she straps a behind it certainly knows it has had a thrashing. I reckon Miss Jones is still howling.’
"He pushed me down a bank Mommy, For no reason mommy, it wasn't my fault, honest"
"Billy again huh?"
"Yes mommy, umm you not mad about my uniform being all muddy?"
"I'm not Happy about it Darling, but I'm not mad about it. Playing with the Stove I am Mad about though, you could have accidentally cause a fire, or worse Burnt yourself. That's what I have told you before not to go play near it. I what else did I say would happen if you did?"
"I..I.. would be punished?"
"And how did I say you would be punished?"
"I would be spanked" Sophie replies with a frown.
"That's right, how let's get you across my lap"
With that she help guide her still wet daughter across her lap and then adjusts her into position. She then no nonsensically starts to bring the hairbrush with reasonable force onto Sophie's upturn posterior, concentrating on the lower buttock, sitspots, and upper thighs. SMACK SMACK SMACK "Young SMACK lady SMACK you SMACK need SMACK to SMACK learn SMACK to SMACK control SMACK yourself SMACK SMACK SMACK"
"I will Owww mommy *gasp* I promise, whaaaaahhhaaa"
Ten year old Margo silently stared at her plate. She had no idea what he might have in mind.
"After supper," her father continued, "you will be punished with a belt, just as your brother was a few days ago. We will not have that kind of behavior in this house, and you need to learn that lesson tonight."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, "Since you displayed your brother's bare bottom to all your friends, I'm going to let your brothers have a full view of your bare bottom as it turns from pink to red."
Margo shuddered. "But that's not fair," she pleaded. "You never let me watch them get punished."
"None of your three brothers have ever done anything as nasty as you have this afternoon," her father replied. "Now get up and wash the dishes. When you are done, go into the living room and prepare for your whipping."
Margo, looking as if she was about to cry, turned to her mother for help, but her mother sat there nodding her agreement with her husband's words. Margo knew there was no hope to alleviate the sentence.
She dragged out the dish washing process as long as possible. Then she mustered up as much courage as she could and slowly went to the living room. There, sitting in a hard chair, was her father waiting for her, and sitting in a row on the couch, as if anticipating the curtain rise on a school play, were her three brothers.
Her father instructed her to come to where he was sitting and stand beside him. She did so and soon was lying over his lap with the bottom of her skirt pulled up to her shoulders. Her father then pulled down her underpants so that her bare bottom was in full view of her brothers and ready for the biting strokes of his belt.
The first lash stung so much that she screamed. By the third stroke she was sobbing bitterly. But the blows continued unabated. Never had she felt such pain. She completely forgot that her brothers were watching (Bill with a big smile on his face) because the stinging pain of the belt was so intense.
At the end of this ordeal she was sent up to her room to complete her homework and go to bed. But she was sobbing so much that she couldn't look at the books.
"But I have something to show you," she said with a conspiratorial wink.
"Come on, let's go outside."
They hid behind the Dumpster and Annie turned around and raised her skirt, bending over at the waist. Kyle's jaw dropped at the sight of her red satin panties. He bit the knuckle of his fist to keep from panting. "Wow," he whispered.
"Well?" she said impatiently. "Take them down!"
"What, do you think I came out here to show you my undies?"
Confused, he tugged them down and took a step back at what he saw. Her bottom was nearly as red as the dress and the panties and criss-crossed with welts.
"I got in trouble over the dress," she said, her eyes glinting with mischief and pride. She was a tomboy, all right. He and his male friends had always bragged that they never cried and had bravely shown one another any marks they were unfortunate enough to be sporting, but he had never seen a girl's bottom after being spanked.
Fifty yards from the cottage he was musing on the strange hold she had over him. And, still fifty yards from the cottage, he heard the echoing sounds which worryingly suggested chickens coming home to roost. Someone was getting a walloping and if Andy Styles was not mistaken that someone, judged by the howls and pleas, was Gillian Jones.
He tentatively opened the kitchen door to the cottage and, stepping inside, hastily closed it. The sound was now unmistakeable. In a room upstairs a strap was being heavily laid across a particular part of Gillian Jones. He heard the thwack and he heard the screams. And he heard the pleading. But it made no difference. Someone, and it must be Connie Wilmer, was wielding a strap across the behind of his young companion. Andy stood in the kitchen doorway, absolutely transfixed. The sound of the strap thwacking down grew louder and the pleas for forgiveness took on a more urgent cry.
‘Please Mrs Wilmer, no more. Please. My bum, my bum. Aagh.’
It made no difference. Andy Styles reckoned he had heard that strap whack down onto flesh at least ten times as he approached the cottage and, once inside, he had heard it do its work another twenty times. And now as the anguished sounds enclosed his ears he could almost be in the room. By the time the wielding of that strap stopped he calculated that his young companion had received around fifty whacks to her backside. And, although he could not see, he had little doubt that the small, boyish, pants which usually covered her rear would be dangling around her knees. When Connie Wilmer whacked behinds she relished in an exposed target. Andy Styles felt a quickening of his heart and a sickening feeling in his stomach. If Gillian Jones, for whatever reason, was getting whacked his own re-introduction to a bare bottom strapping from Mrs Wilmer could not be far behind. Fearful of such an eventuality he left the cottage, quietly closing the door, and desperately tried to pretend that he had neither heard nor imagined anything that had taken place. He walked around the surrounding countryside for at least half an hour, twice stopping for a nervous pee, but in the evening gloom eventually and reluctantly returned to the cottage. When he did so, Gillian Jones was calmly sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of warming soup. She was in her pyjamas and clearly ready for an early bed. Her eyes were slightly red but other than that her demeanour indicated little of what had taken place no more than half an hour before.
Jer followed her to the barn, where she showed him a pitchfork, and the manure pile, and told him to clean out the stalls, and to sweep out the barn, while she finished some business with her daughters. Jer got to work, and was mostly through cleaning the stalls, when he heard a cracking noise followed by a cry. This was repeated several times. Jer's sense of curiosity was raised, and he quiety walked back to he cabin, and stole a peek into a window which was off of the front porch. He saw three little girls standing naked from the waist down, facing their mother, who had her back to the window. They were all holding onto their bottoms as if they might fall off. The mother told them to just go up to their loft and go to bed, as she was angry with them all. Jer watched as they turned, and the three little red butts climbed a ladder to their loft.
I heard the door opposite mine which lead to Amelia's room open and then shut. I strained to listen. I could hear Mrs Connolly's voice quietly talking to Amelia but couldn't make out the words. I could hear Amelia's much louder voice though.
"PLEASE, MUMMY, PLEASE DON'T SPANK ME! I'LL BE GOOD. PLEASE DON'T HIT ME! PLEASE!"
And then I heard the sound of smacking. Remorseless and heavy. It sounded too heavy to be a hand and a shiver went through me as I wondered what it was. Amelia's shrieking and screaming drowned it out. I was quite stunned at her lack of courage. It sounded like she was being killed. Mrs Connolly was kindhearted and that must have been hard to take, but it didn't seem to stop her doing her duty. And then there was no longer screaming, but sobbing. And the door opened, and shut. And a second later my door opened.
I was wearing the clothes I'd changed into after I'd got drenched on the tower. And I froze rigid as I saw what she had in her hand.
It was a hairbrush. And I feared the hairbrush like nothing on this earth.
"Stand up, Hermione, and come here."
Once again, Mrs Weasley stood and walked over to where a child was standing waiting for a spanking. Once again she turned the chair around, and sat down in it and once again, her fingers deftly undid the fastenings of a child's jeans. Unlike Harry, Hermione did not protest, or complain or in any way resist. For obvious reasons, this wasn't quite as embarrassing for her as it had been for Harry. Mrs Weasley pulled the jeans down, and then pulled down Hermione's knickers and with practiced ease, tipped Hermione forward and across her lap. Mrs Weasley had far less experience of spanking girls than boys, but that really didn't matter, because she saw no reason whatsoever to treat them differently in this regard. She planted one hand in the small of Hermione's back, and with the other took aim across the young girls bottom. And she raised her hand and brought it back down as hard as she could, her palm and fingers curved slightly to match the contours of her target area. Hermione gave a gasp at the first spank, and was crying by the sixth - though not as loudly or as obviously as Harry had. At about the twelfth, Mrs Weasley began focusing her attention on one buttock at a time in turn, and Hermione squirmed, but made no real struggle. The last five spanks were a copy of how she had finished with Harry - fingers spread, and curved and with force, to cover as much of the target area as possible. And then it was over. And she placed Hermione on her feet, and went and got a cool wet cloth. Unlike Harry, Hermione didn't move to cover her nakedness as quickly, and showing her great intelligence, when the cloth was passed to her, she didn't initially apply it's soothing coolness to her face. But then she did, and adjusted her clothing, and looked at Mrs Weasley, and said in a very polite good-natured voice.
It’s worth saying that my father must not have been the only one for have given permission for Graham and Roger to punish with spanking. I distinctly remember them spanking a girl called Rosemary who was about 10 on her bottom. She was mucking around during a game and she was taken into the corner, told off in no uncertain terms, her gingham dress tucked up into her vest and her panties pulled down to her ankles by Roger. I could see out the corner of my eyes her standing there a gap of nakedness between her white socks and sandals and the blue gingham of the top of her dress. She was then given a good hiding on her bare bottom, a sound that could be heard above the noise of playing children. The game stopped and we all heard Roger say ‘Any more fuss from you young lady and Ill tell your Father! He told her to pull her panties up, her dress down and red faced she went back to join the circle of boys and girls.
"This is not a laughing matter, girls. You are not so innocent. Jill at ten you know better that to tease the boys and run around so noisily."
"Yes, mother; I'm sorry."
"You could benefit from a spanking also, young lady."
"No, mother, please...."
Her protests were not any more effective than those of the boys and the Salesman reached out and dropped her jeans and Supergirl panties before pulling her over his lap. This was more than sufficient entertainment to get the boys to stop crying so that they could watch closely. After five whacks, Jill was bawling and probably could not hear the injunctions to be good when she got another five.
Helen, the littlest one, was crying even before her jeans and Wonder Woman panties were lowered. A half dozen had her bawling like her big cousin.
The demonstration complete, the [Fuller Brush] salesman lined the red-bottomed miscreants up along the staircase and ordered them to study the wall until told different. "As you can see, ma'am, it is quite effective and very reasonably priced."
"I'll take it." Mary said reaching into the closet for her purse. "Make that two; my sister needs one also."