Chapter 2

Now over nine years later things are different. Remember that boy I spoke of, eventually after many months he agreed to go out with me. Not only did he take me out on dates, a few years later Art asked to marry me when I graduated from university. I said “Yes!” I will put that life transforming event on the back burner for now. I will leave it at that, but it will involve the flat blade of a ceremonial military sword. That’s a hint. You folks that have been to a military weapon may have more than a guess what this all meant on my special day.

It turned out his family spanked their kids. With him being the oldest of five siblings, he got lots of practice spanking the younger ones when the parents were away. A major difference was that if one got spanked for a serious offense, the other siblings watched. The parents thought seeing one get spanked would be as effective in teaching behavior as an actual spanking. Upon seeing that tradition unfold with his two sisters once when we started dating, I realized it would affect me if we continued dating. There’s another kink when one is spanked in that family, but I will explain later.

It was apparent Art thought spankings would correct behavior of anyone despite their age. This was proven one weekend when his parents were on a trip and he had been left in charge of the family. His two sisters, eighteen and nineteen years old if I remember correctly, came in smelling of beer when the legal age for alcohol was twenty-one. Normally older teens would be immune to spankings. Within a short time after arriving home however the siblings found out their oldest brother followed their family ways in a strict sense. Both in turn were over his lap, needless to say without their panties to soften the paddle.

Art was not mean, but the younger ones knew the rules and the result if they were not followed. Once I made a mistake of teasing the girls after they had been spanked, but stopped when told the paddle would be applied to girlfriends not smart enough to avoid it.

It was six weeks after we started dating when Art put me over his lap for the first time. He did it despite the fact I told him my mother already spanked me for smoking just two days before as I had been home on a visit. He stood in front of me while I tried explaining why it was wrong to spank me.

“I was having a few drinks with the girls and got offered a cigarette. One led to another and soon I bought a pack so I wouldn’t be mooching all the time. Mom found the pack and had Dad lay the paddle to me. That’s the truth Art. I didn’t really start smoking, just a few with a lot of beer.” I remember thinking during the time my parents paddled me more for satisfying my inner wish rather than for actually smoking.

He kept looking at me. “So, you got drunk with the girls and had a few smokes instead of visiting your parents like you were supposed to be doing. Is that what you’re saying?”

That didn’t sound so good. “Well I was home four days. I had to go out with the girls some times.”

“How many times is sometimes? Don’t even think about lying. I will phone your mother if I think you’re not telling the truth.” He firmly popped his paddle against the side of his leg.

I hesitated, but knew he would call my mom if in doubt. “Well since Dad was away during the day, I stayed home most days and went out in the evenings. You understand, just visiting friends and stuff happens.”

Art didn’t look impressed. “Did you drink with those friends every night? Have a few puffs on a cigarette every night?”

He had guessed the truth and I couldn’t bring myself to lie. “Well I had a few beers, but I didn’t smoke more than one or two at the most. That’s the truth, I promise!”

He took my hand and walked me over to the chair in the middle of the room. “You promised your mom you would never smoke when you were a teenager. You broke that promise. You bought a pack so you wouldn’t be mooching all the time. Mooching all the time indicates there was a lot more smoking going on then just one cigarette here and there. You know how I feel about smoking.”

Once we were close to the chair, he put her arms around my waist, looking at me with what I now know were the first signs he had began to fall in love, despite it being early in our relationship. His eyes shone as he spoke. “Gwyn, I’m going to spank you unless you object. Right now you have a decision to make. Either I spank your bottom, or you leave and we quit seeing each other. What’s it to be?”

I couldn’t take a chance on losing him, besides I had wanted him to spank me ever since our second date. “Do you have to use the paddle? I mean, can’t you spank me using your hand.”

He sat down on the chair and began undoing my belt and the button on my jeans. “I never gave a choice before and have no intention of starting now.” He eased my jeans passed my knees and yanked my shorts down before pulling on my wrist to upend me over his knee. “Now you better know this will happen whenever you need a reminder about behavior.”

I was so happy I almost forgot my position until his hand spanks hit my bottom cheeks. Soon after that, the paddle was put to use. I was bouncing up and down whenever the paddle smacked me, begging him to stop while bawling. I learned he knew how to paddle young women like me. His paddle cracks were lighter than he regularly gave as he could see the marks from my father whacking me two days earlier.

One might wonder why my future husband would make me bounce when he spanked me. That was the kink in his family I mentioned earlier. When I’m over his lap, my feet are on the floor. When the spankings about to start, he issued the command, “Ass up!” I have to rise up on my toes. This action is much like one sees when you are told to raise so one’s underwear can be lowered.

Once I’m up, whenever the hand or paddle lands on my butt cheeks my feet go down. I immediately rise on my toes again waiting for the next smack to land. At the beginning there may be several seconds or even a minute before the instrument chosen lands again, however once it is in full motion there is rarely more than a second or two to get back up on my toes. If the paddle lands when I’m not up, that particular spank didn’t count toward the total.

Right after letting me off his lap, he placed me in a corner with my clothes around my ankles for five minutes so I could quit bawling. Then he took my hand again and led me back to the chair. Putting me back over his lap I got two spanks on each butt cheek, as he said the first spanking was for smoking, the last four swats were for not visiting my parents very much. Then he started rubbing my bottom cheeks with his hand, which soon slipped between my legs. This led to us going to the bedroom, the first time we made love, and what a great session it proved to be.

I agreed Art should continue my spankings. Maybe it was his hand resting on my butt when he asked the question, or his body pressed against mine, or because I was taking no chance of losing the boy I waited years to have. My body was electric and my bushy blonde triangle was alive as my vagina pinked and tooter puckered. I had no objection to Art’s spanking me as it was after the paddling from my parents before leaving for college when I realized how I needed them.

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I’ve mentioned my spanking from Art, but have yet to tell of one from Art’s father. It was about three weeks after Art paddled me for the first time. Art told the entire family about my paddling and I accepted that family house rules now applied to me. Up to this point Art had been the only one to spank me.

This meant at any family gathering or individually I’m subjected to spankings by members of the house over the age of twenty-one. As I mentioned before, I got to choose my spanker, unless Art exercised his right for me to submit to him, which I did willingly.

The situation arose when my father-in-law was visiting at Art’s apartment. It was a Sunday morning in the middle of a four-day long weekend and I’d been forced out of bed by the two men to do some of the chores. Needless to say, I wasn’t in a good mood. Art had a class to attend for extra credit at his college so he left that morning, leaving me with his father. I wasn’t impressed to say the least.

An hour later his dad asked me clean the two bathrooms, I wasn’t living with my boyfriend yet, although we were having discussions about me moving in soon. I sat on the couch and continued playing my video games.

“Get those bathrooms done Gwyn! Art said you would help, so do what you’re told.” The tone my future father-in-law used was not one usually spoken back too, but I did anyway.

“If Art wants the bathrooms done, he can ask me himself! I’m busy.” I felt the tap on my shoulder within ten seconds of my speaking.