This story is based on an account described in a chapter on obsessions in a first year university psychology text book. The date of the recorded events is not known but that edition of the book was printed in 1958. It describes how a couple of weeks of traumatic experiences influenced one of the participants in the long term.
The role of the housekeeper (the children called her Mrs D for short) and the punishments dealt out to the three children are closely based on the academic account given in the text book. The story follows events over the 8 months that Mrs D was left in charge of the house and kids, Wendy aged 16, brother Mark and visiting family friend Trevor. The two boys, both 14, had been great mates for a couple of years. They were both in 3rdform at school. Wendy was in 5th form at a girl's high school. Not knowing the real dates the story has been set around 1955 but it all could have happened 20 years earlier.
Trevor tells the story
How it all started
Just to get one thing straight. I remember this stuff, some of it word for word, because it was the most traumatic happening of my whole life. The after effects have gone on for ever.
My parents and Mark's mum and dad all migrated to Australia in 1948. They met somehow after we had all settled in the same suburb of Adelaide, about 15 minutes walk from each other. The two families became close friends. Mark's parents had more money than we did, a really big house and garden and had a cleaning woman two days a week.
It must have been about 1953 that our parents first talked about visiting 'home'. What to do with us kids for 6 months or more was of course a problem. A one way trip to Europe in those days took 6 weeks by ship. Neither family had relatives in Australia that we could have stayed with.
The answer to the problem came with the employment of a new cleaning lady, Mrs D, as we were told to call her. She was married but the man walked out on her. She then lived with her sister's family. My parents were most impressed that Mrs D had completed a domestic science and family management course for nannies at some college. We all liked her and apparently she was really good at cleaning, washing, baking and other stuff. I don't know why she didn't have a full time job but she continued as a cleaner at Mark's place.
One day both our parents got us all together, a Sunday morning I remember. What did we think of having Mrs D move in for a few months to look after us three while they did their Europe trips. I would share Mark's room. It was obvious that mum and dad were aching for all of us to say yes. I later thought they could have handled that a lot better. Anyway, they were in luck and we all said OK. It would be a sort of adventure. Next February they got on their big ocean liner with return tickets for October.
The trip preparation was quite calm and methodical. In January Mrs D moved in full time. Everything worked well. On the second last day before departure there was a big lunch and later a serious talk from both lots of parents. We were told quite unnecessarily to be GOOD, to write a letter every month, to do our school work, help around the house, tidy our rooms, be well behaved, etc etc blah blah blah.
Then the bombshell. In front of everyone mum turned to Mrs D and said "If Trevor is any trouble at all don't hesitate to use the biggest wooden spoon you can find. Don't stop till he has really learnt the lesson and won't do it again. It's a long time since he's got a spanking from me so a refresher might be needed."Mark's mum said much the same ending with "and that goes for you too, my girl."Mrs D took it in her stride. "Not to worry" she said, "I'm sure they will be good but if not then a wooden spoon will help. I also have a little strap that can make a big impression. We had a couple of lectures on discipline in my course so I know how to handle problems. Do you want to see if you think the strap is OK?" Mum said no need. They still had lots to do.
We all went to the wharf to see them off. Pies and ice creams for a last lunch. Mum again went over all the things I should and should not do, ending with "be good or else." We all got bored for 2 hours waiting for the ship to leave. On the way home everyone had a great feeling of excitement and adventure.
Mrs D in charge
For more than 2 months everything went well. Mrs D, she was more like a bigger sister. We had nice food, went to the football, picnics, the pictures and us kids worked well enough to hardly ever get any complaints. There was no thought of getting into real trouble.
I must say that I did find it very interesting to be in the same house as Wendy. In those days boys knew nothing about girls except that they had breasts and a bum of different sizes. My knowledge of sex and how girls looked came from schoolyard talk. Mark didn't know any more either.
Mrs D did lay down the rules right at the start. We thought that she was reasonable and fair. The three of us got an occasional slap on the bottom. Then one night, for no reason we could work out, she made it clear that a wooden spoon or her strap were going to be used if there was ever a need. She was so different in those few minutes.
To make sure we understood she got her strap out and made each of us hold it. It scared me. The leather was only a bit over a foot long, shorter than the ones used at school but thicker and was hard and heavy. She told us with a grin "it curls around your bottom and leaves a fiery stripe and inch and a half wide". She explained that the leather was attached to the wooden handle so she could whip it down and make it really hurt. We got a demo, Mrs D swung her arm behind her back and whacked the kitchen table. The noise on the hard wooden top was terrifying. We were pretty shocked. After that though, things were as before and there was no more mention of the spoon or strap.
Mark and I
Mark and I got on really well, just as expected. We also discovered we had something in common that had not ever been mentioned. We were both great masturbators, like maybe the world's best. When on my back on top of the bed I once hit the wall above my head. I thought Mark's cock was a bit bigger than mine but he couldn't spurt as far. After just a couple of weeks we were doing it together, we had distance competitions and were sharing our very ignorant fantasies about naked girls and breasts and so on.
I had always been sensible enough to clean up and never had much concern about mum or now Mrs D knowing about it. From Mark I learnt a better method. At the last moment he'd put a sock over the tip of his prick and caught it all perfectly. I immediately did the same. So, in our room after bedtime we would share a fantasy and be writhing in pleasure with a sock at the ready. This infatuation helped lead us into disaster.
On Thursdays school classes finished 40 minutes early for sports practice. Mark was good at football but ball games were not for me. Kids like me could easily nick off but I always waited for Mark. We were allowed to get home late on Thursdays.
This particular Thursday was the last one before the winter holidays. It was that day on which all the trouble started. I had had a run in with two of our year level bullies. Really minor, school boy posturing stuff. I did not give in but they had older brothers so I decided to go home early. Tomorrow was only a half day and wouldn't be a problem. Those sort of kids usually didn't turn up at all on the last day. By next term it would have blown over. So I hopped on my bike and sped off.
Behind Mark's house was a park with a gate in our back fence. I left my bike there and headed for the kitchen. As I opened the back door I heard Mrs D shouting angrily and Wendy's voice whimpering in reply. I froze in the doorway. "How dare you, how dare you. Yesterday you lied to me, at least twice. Today your head mistress sends a letter about you cheating and on top of that you were disgustingly rude to the prefect who caught you. I have to sign that thing and reply tomorrow. She wants me to punish you and that's just what I'm going to do, right now". Murmurings like, "Please no, not my fault..." from Wendy.
I could tell they were in the lounge room. "Stop stalling. Pull your skirt and petty coat up, go on, higher, quick. Lie yourself over the piano stool, head right down, do it or I'll give you extra. If you're not quick the boys will be home and hear you get it." Wailing from Wendy. Then "Six for lying and six for that letter. Right, pull your panties up high, high and tight." A teary begging that I could only half hear but she must have done it. "Right, let's get started."
I couldn't help it, I put my bag down in the doorway and very carefully sneaked closer. I really wanted to rub my stiffening cock. All the doors were open. Whack, Mrs D,"One" then whack again, "One". "Oh no, please no, it hurts, no please" and so on from Wendy. I just had to look. A quick glance past the open door. Wendy was bent over the stool alright. Head towards me, down near the floor. Her skirt and hair over her face. Mrs D had her back to me, standing level with Wendy's head, facing towards her bun and legs. The strap was ready, up behind her back. Whack, "Two" and whack again, "Two." Loud howls and now sobbing. How come the count was 1-1 and 2-2.
I risked a longer look. Wendy couldn't see me because the skirt now completely covered her head and Mrs D was facing away from me. I could not see much of Wendy's bum, only the top swell of the cheeks, covered by panties. I felt safe enough to keep watching. Mrs D slowly lifted the strap, flicked it behind her back and them whacked it down, "Three" and immediately, arm up and the same again, "Three". Lots of loud yelling and sobbing and wriggling over the stool. I worked it out. Mrs D was strapping Wendy's bum lengthways. Every count was made up of a whack along each cheek. God that was mean. Wendy was begging, yelling out how much it hurt followed by sniffling stuff like "No more, no more ohhhh please no". Very exciting.
I pulled my head back, panting. I let 4-4 go and then watched every move of 5-5. Wendy screamed once on the first stroke and lots after the second stroke. She was throwing herself around, legs kicking all over the place. God, Mrs D hit hard. Her whole body twisted into each whack. If only I could see the strap landing on Wendy's pants. The end must have been on bare skin below her pants or even on her legs.
While 6 and 6 were cracking on Wendy's bum I quickly crept out to the back door in case Mrs D took a break and looked around. I could pretend to have just arrived. Wendy screamed and again and again. There was only a short pause with continual begging and howling and then I heard the seventh pair applied. I so wanted to go and look again but my nerve failed me. I slipped through the back gate and rode away.
On the other side of the park I sat under a tree. My head was full of what I had seen and heard. I went over it, several times and it got more vivid each time. The way she swung that strap. First stepping away half a pace, arm right back so the strap dangled towards her own bottom, wooden handle in her fist. That was the moment I could see the top bit of Wendy's bottom, the swell of the two cheeks in their panties. Then Mrs D sort of uncoiled. Her arm went over, her elbow straightened, her body twisted forward but I couldn't see the last bit. God the crack was loud. I liked the way Wendy reacted instantly, how her head shot up but her face stayed hidden. I imagined the pain. After the two number 5 strokes Wendy had really howled and her screams were piercing. She kept on howling waiting for the next pair. I had seen glimpses of her feet as she kicked madly and twisted her legs over each other.
I just sat under that tree drooling, going over all of the whacks I'd seen and imagined the rest of the 12 double hits, 24 bursts of pain. I imagined the tip of the strap biting into bare skin below the panties and on her thighs. God that was a sexy thought. The whacks would have had to have landed pretty well on top of each other. How much that must have hurt. Then without me even touching myself I spurted in my pants. It took me a bit to get over that. I went back to the house and pretended to have just come from school. There was no sign of Wendy. She must have been in her room. I listened as best I could when passing her door but there was no sound. I did not dare ask where she was in case I betrayed myself.
Mark came home pretty late. We had no homework. Mrs D got us to help in the kitchen. I was itching to tell Mark about Wendy but there was no real chance. At dinner Mrs D told us that Wendy was in trouble and had been sent to bed with a piece of bread and cup of water. After dinner we played monopoly and had fruit salad and cream. Bed time was 10pm. We washed and got into pyjamas. Only then could I tell Mark all about it.
From there events moved really fast. Mark made me tell him every detail several times. We both had gigantically hard erections poking out the slit in our pyjama pants. We were groaning and fingering our cocks. We moved into the competitive position, standing next to each other and rubbed. It took me hardly a moment and I spurted, just as Mrs D pushed open the door and stared. I had been too distracted to hear her coming.
I think she might have seen it in full flight. Her face instantly turned dark red. My cock continued to ooze. I was so embarrassed and frightened that I just wanted to laugh. Mark had let go of his cock and just stood there with it sticking out the front.
Mrs D sort of gasped and took a deep hissing breath. "I thought you boys might have been doing this sort of thing, but standing in the middle of the floor! You are pigs. You are going to ruin your whole lives and I know just what I have to do to save you from this disgusting wickedness. Never have I seen or heard of anything so blatant. What if Wendy had seen you".
She needed another breath. "I learnt about boys doing self abuse in college. They say it's really difficult to break you of the habit. I was in a study group with five other girls and we spent hours doing research on how to cure boys like you, hours. You are lucky I know what has to be done before you become more damaged." Mrs D was obviously getting angrier and angrier. She couldn't stand still, arms waving.
She had paused for a few moments, then "I never thought I would have to do this. I know there is only one way. Tonight and for the next 9 nights I am going to beat your bottoms with a stick until they go bright red all over. It will hurt so much that every night you are going to cry yourselves to sleep. You are not going to ever want to play with yourselves again. One day you will thank me for this". I was really scared by then and Mark looked the same. The delightful thoughts about Wendy getting the strap a distant past. Mark had managed to get his cock inside his pyjamas but could not hide the bulge where it was half up and sticking forwards.
"Don't you dare move, either of you. I'm going to get a stick." We saw her go past the window to the garden. She came back all too soon with a green stick, less than 2 foot long, and as thick as a finger. It did not seem to flex, just hard and stiff. I thought it didn't look as bad as the whippy cane at school.
Mrs D did not waste any time. "Right Trevor, you are first, pants right off. Get over the arm of that easy chair, that will do very well. Bottom right on top. Not that side, the other side, boy, I'm right handed". I lay on my tummy, the prickly stuffing poking through the worn out cover. "Right over the top, come on." When I didn't move fast enough she grabbed my arms and pulled me forwards till my shrunken cock ground over the prickles.