The pastor had been clear that we couldn’t date for the next 4 months. I was still expected to spend time with Sherri, we were engaged after all. That meant spending a great deal of time with Sherri at her house. Her parents seemed to welcome me visiting the house regularly. I think it might have reassured them that I had a sincere interest in their daughter.
It isn’t surprising that her parents weren’t anxious to leave us alone anytime soon. They actually gave us a great deal of privacy, at least to talk. They didn’t spell out the restrictions, but it was obvious that Sherri and I shouldn’t be anywhere together that even gave the appearance that we were trying to hide ourselves from plain view. They didn’t watch over us constantly, but made it obvious that they were checking on us regularly. We never did more than hold hands and talk. I would help her with her chores, and if the weather allowed we would sit on the swing out back. It was far enough away from the house that there was no danger of being overhead. It was also clearly visible from the house, so it was easy to check on us.
We talked about plenty of nothing. But at some point each day I turned the subject, at least briefly, to the subject of spanking. It was interesting because the subject seemed to both embarrass and arouse Sherri. I was learning that I enjoyed her humiliation just as much as I did her arousal and her punishment. In hindsight my actions sound more carefully planned than they really were. I began by asking her general questions, as time passed the questions became more specific and her answers became more and more detailed.
I rewarded her, unconsciously at first, by following up the discussions of her spankings with descriptions of what kind of date I would like to be taking her on right now instead of sitting at the house. As the details about her spankings increased, I was increasing the details about our imaginary dates and even adding in things about what I would like to do when we were married. A weekend in a remote cabin. A trip to the beach. Lying in each other’s arms as we watched the sun set over the water. She told me about spankings that happened at all ages, but I paid the most attention to the ones she received as a teen.
General Information about Spankings I learned a number of things about how and when spankings were administered in her household growing up. For instance: A child is never too old to spank. All spankings should be delivered on the bare bottom or, if they were especially bad, without any clothing. Mom always spanks first, sometimes Dad repeats the entire spanking when he gets home. Being in public didn’t always prevent a bare bottom spanking right there. If they simply could not give a bare bottom spanking then, she would receive one spanking over their clothes in public and another one without clothes at home. The church school she attends practices spanking, in all grades. If she was spanked at school, she could expect double at home, or even quadruple if Dad punished her too. Her mom liked using the wooden spoon and switch; her dad preferred using the belt. Sometimes the whole family witnessed a punishment if the offense was severe, or her siblings were affected by her behaviour. Mom believed in “corner time” showing her punished bottom.
Watched by Her Brother’s Friends
I asked Sherri what it was like to have her older brother watch her being spanked. Her brother was two years older than her
“When I was younger it just seemed normal. For as long as I could remember there were times when each of us saw the other one get spanked. And plenty of times where we both got spanked together.”
“Well when was the first time it felt strange to have him see?” I asked.
“I had just turned thirteen. I had just started noticing boys. It was the end of the summer and three of my brothers friends were over, including Greg. Every girl at school had a crush on Greg. Especially me. I wanted to be around Greg, I wanted him to notice me so bad. I probably deserved the spanking I got that day, but it was very embarrassing.”
“I recruited my sister to help me hassle the boys while they played. When they played hide and go seek, Sandy and I would follow them to their hiding places. When they tried to play ball, I threw the ball on the roof because they wouldn’t let me play too. I went too far and Mom heard the yelling from the house. One look and she knew who was guilty; she’s good at that you know.”
“Sherri! Sandy! You two come with me right this minute”
“We knew we were about to get spanked. And my brother knew it too. But he didn’t try to stick up for us; instead he started whispering to his friends. I know he was telling them what was about to happen. Mom took us inside and told us each to get ready for the spoon.”
I had heard her tell me what “getting ready for the spoon” meant. Her Mom had sewn special buttons on the backs of the girls dresses that held them up for spankings and “corner time”. If Sherri was told to “get ready for the spoon” she would retrieve the spoon from the kitchen, go to her parents room, remove her panties, raise her dress and wait for her Mom.
Sherri continued telling me about that day, “usually Mom gave us 10 hard whacks with the spoon. I’m not sure how many I got that day but it seemed to go on forever. My entire bottom felt like it was on fire. When the spanking stopped, I noticed, between my sobs, that it was completely silent outside. And I knew that my brother and his friends were listening to me being punished. I paid close attention as Mom started to spank Sandy. Smack, smack, smack ... A steady rhythm for 10 strokes. Mom knew I talked Sandy into helping me, so I was getting what I deserved.
I was clearly going to get the worst end of things. I had hoped it was over. But my Mom had other plans.
“Go cut a switch.”
“But Davey and his friends are out there, they will see my bottom.”
“You should have thought about that beforehand. Now both of you march.”
I had heard before that cutting the switch was only part of what she had to do. She had to strip all the bark from it while she stood outside. Her bottom would also be bare. Often times she could have her dress down and covering her butt, except when she was especially bad. In those cases, her bottom would well-smacked and she would be sent outside with her butt showing. Sherri had described to me another time how she had to do this, day or night, sun, rain or snow. In the snow, the cold would bite at her bare skin, making her butt hurt almost as much as the spanking. The switch hurt even more on the cold skin.
She continued with the story, “When I went out for the switch, my brother and his friends didn’t even pretend to look away.”
My brother Davey called out “that looks like it hurts pretty bad, you sure you will be ready for the switch too. I don’t know that I have ever seen such a red bottom.”
“My face had to be nearly as red.”
The boys followed us to the tree and watched as we cut and stripped our switches. About half way through my Mom came out. My heart lifted, she was going to tell the boys to go back to playing. She didn’t.
“Sherri, are you ashamed for these boys to see you like this?”
“Good. Maybe that will help you think twice about your rude behaviour. Finish up that switch and get inside.”
Sandy and I finished our switches and hurried inside. I don’t think I was ever so happy to be heading into the house with a switch. Mom was going to switch Sandy first and she told me to watch. It was worse to watch my sister go first because the whole time she was being spanked I was thinking about what was about to happen to me. Instead of kneeling on the chair, Mom told her to straddle the chair, feet and knees outside the chair legs, face against the seat of the chair. Mom didn’t make us get in that position very often, but we dreaded it when she did.
The first strike hit the center of her left cheek leaving the tell-tale thin red line. Mom paused, waiting for the next stroke which was lower down. Another long pause, followed by a stroke aimed perfect in that tender area between the top of the thigh and the bottom of your butt. Slowly she worked her way down Sandy’s thigh. Since she was straddling the chair, Mom could hit both the back of her thighs and the soft flesh of her inner thigh. When she had finished with the left thigh, she repeated a mirror image of marks down the right side. With all of the pauses, it seemed to go on forever.
Then it was my turn. I didn’t have to be told, when my sister stood up I took over her position. I just wanted to get this over with. But Mom had other plans.
“Sandy, go get your brother and tell him that I want him to watch his sister being punished for what she did to him.”
Before, all I thought about when straddling the chair was how much more the switch hurt on my inner thighs. Now I pictured what my brother was going to see. I knew from school that other girls my age had hair down there, but I still didn’t and I was embarrassed about that too.
I was glad when Mom told Davey to stand to the side. At least he wouldn’t be looking directly at my privates the whole time. I heard Mom moving behind me, probably getting ready to start, and I glanced back. My brother’s friends were peeking around the wall in the kitchen. They didn’t have a perfect view from there, but the thought that they would see my switching was humiliating.
Mom took her time with me as well. I counted thirty lashes with the switch. At least ten of those were near the top of my inner thigh, and they really hurt.
I joined Sandy standing in the corner. When Mom went out to the garden, my brother and his friends snuck back into the hallway where they could see into Mom’s room, and see our bottoms.
“I’ve never seen a girl get spanked before.”
“Do you get watch every time?”
“Look at those lines the switch left.”
They talked about me like I wasn’t even there. I was glad they didn’t stay longer. But they didn’t want my Mom to catch them.
Spanked at School and Home
“When was the last time you were spanked at school?”
“Earlier this year”
“It really wasn’t that big of deal. I got 5 demerits in history class. Stupid things really, I wasn’t in my seat when the bell rang, I was chewing gum in class. 5 demerits IS enough for a trip to the principal’s office, but it wasn’t “insubordination” and “wilful rebellion” like the teacher said on the note. Those words meant a much worse punishment was coming. And this was my second trip in less than a month.
I went to the principal’s office, knowing that I was going to get spanked. The only questions were how many and what would he use. He had a ruler, a strap and a cane. The standard punishment was 6 hits. Sometimes he went easy on us and only gave us half. I knew that wasn’t going to happen to today. What I feared was that I would get a double.
I knew the routine when I got to his office. He left his door open so everyone could hear; although no one could really see unless they walked all the way in. In our small school this was way worse than you would think. All of the classrooms are close to the office. Some teachers would open their classroom doors and pause their teaching so the whole class could hear each spanking. They thought that it deterred other students from misbehaving. I hated it because everyone in school knew about your spanking.
The principal would have me go to the far side of his desk, raise my skirt, and bend forward on to the desk. Then he would lecture me about what I had done. I waited through this to see which instrument he would pick to use on me. I was glad to see it was the ruler, it would hurt but it wasn’t too bad.
I counted out the strokes as he gave them to me. Smack, “one”, smack, “two” until I had counted six. He walked to put the ruler away and I started to get up, thankful it was over and that it wasn’t as bad as I had expected.
“We are done yet young lady, get back into position while I get the strap”
My bottom already stung from the ruler, and now I was about to get the strap. I heard it whish through the air just before it hit my bottom. The crack of the leather as it hit my panties registered in my brain just a little before the pain. I started to say one, but it just came out as “Ow”.
“Since you didn’t count that one properly, I’ll have to do it again.”
Another smack right on top of the last one, but this time I was careful to clearly say “One”. The next 4 strokes all landed in roughly the same spot. Each one hurt more than the one before, but I kept counting. Then with the last stroke he unexpectedly changed his aim, he hit me lower and aimed the strap so that it curled around my cheek and hit my privates as well. Instead of counting out number 6, I scream out “shit”.
“I’ll have to do that one over as well. Plus three more for cussing.”
I had gone from sobbing to a full-fledged cry. I counted out the next 4 through my tears. It was finally finished.
The principal gave me a couple of minutes to wipe the tears from my face, and then walked me back to the classroom. I was still sobbing lightly and breathing quickly. Sitting on those hard school chairs the rest of the day was misery and I still had to go home and face my parents.
The note from the principal repeated the insubordination and wilful rebellion comments from my history teacher, and it added that I received extra punishment for cussing during my spanking. It listed my punishment as 6 strokes with the ruler and 11 with the strap. I knew what to expect when I got home.
I handed the note to my Mom.
“Undress and wait for me in my room.”
I took off my school outfit and folded it neatly on her dresser. And I waited. She came in with a plastic ruler and grabbed one of dad’s belts from the closet.
“It looks like you got it pretty good at school. But you already know that doesn’t compare to what you are going to get here. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have the school tell you that you have raised an insubordinate and rebellious child? Do you think that just because you are turning 16 soon that you don’t have to listen to the rules any more? I’m sure your Dad and I can change that idea. Lay down on the bed”
I laid face down, with my legs tight together. Mom grabbed my ankles and spread my legs apart. “Hook your toes on the outside edges of the mattress to keep your apart.” Mom had never asked me to do this before, so I was a little worried. It spread my legs wide and angled my butt into the air more.
Instead of the ruler, Mom began with the strap. She started near my knee. One solid swat against the back of my thigh. She moved a few inches higher, and gave me a second. I was glad that my sore bottom wasn’t getting any more from the strap. But it wasn’t much help since the strap on the thighs hurt even more. 5 swats with the strap and she had worked her way up my one thigh. She moved to the other side of the bed. 5 more, working their way up my thigh. Then came number 11 as hard as she could right across my already bruised bottom. Oh how I squealed and cried.
“Turn over, heels on the outside of the mattress”
Mom started again down by the knee, one stroke after another running up the front of my thigh. 5 swats up the right side, then 5 more up the left side. The final stroke was right across the top of my panty line. It hurt so bad I curled up to cry.
“back in position, you still have 12 more with the ruler.”
Mom took careful aim with the ruler on my inner thigh, right up next to my privates. All 12 hits on one thigh, all within a couple inches. I could see the growing red welt. It looked worse than any of the strap marks.
“stand in the dining room until your father gets home”
I was scared, there was no way I could take another 30 some strokes when my Dad got home
He agreed, kind of. When he arrived home, he saw me standing naked in the dining room corner. He could certainly see from the backs of my thighs and bottom that I had been spanked hard today.
“So what happened with you?”