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Get your own Free Home PageCynthia lived next door and we grew up together. We were casual friends in high school but when I went off to college we drifted apart. When we were kids it was different. We played together and were virtually inseparable. Being children, we occasionally needed to be punished but when that happened the other could be counted on to provide sympathy. Our bedrooms faced each other and it was hard not to know when a spanking was being delivered to a deserving young rear end. Our next meeting would lead to the following conversation: "Wow, you really got it." "I sure did." "I bet it really hurt." "It sure did."
We stopped this witty repartee about the time we hit our teens for a couple of reasons. First, my parents considered me too old for that form of discipline and second, hers didn't. Somehow it was too embarrassing for either of us to talk about her spankings after puberty. I never mentioned how she was still punished to anyone else. Partly out of loyalty to her but mostly because I didn't want anyone to even guess how much I enjoyed listening to it.
That was about the time she started to close her window and shades first. It kept me from seeing anything and most of the sound was muffled but I could still hear enough. That lasted until she was about sixteen. I remember that day very well. I was sitting in my room and noticed Cynthia come into hers. I had learned to read her attitude and knew there was going to be a spanking in the near future. But before she could get around to her normal preparations to insure a bit of privacy, her mother came storming into the room and the main event unfolded immediately. I actually got to see but it wasn't a great as you might think. All I saw was the top half of her but my imagination filled in the missing parts as she took off her jeans and then her panties. The fact that she was punished on her bare bottom was no surprise. Even through the normally closed window I would hear her beg to leave her clothes on every time she was spanked. She probably heard me make similar comments when it was my turn over someone's lap but I eventually learned that it did no good and only made the spanker more angry with the obvious result of a longer and/or harder session. Modesty and pride gave way to common sense and stoic acceptance. Not so in her case. While she eventually got over her hesitation in removing the first layer of protection, she always argued about her panties. Without fail, her rebellion would be very short-lived. And the decree that Cynthia had just earned extra swats followed by the final and unalterable order to peel off that last protective garment was plenty loud enough for any aurally voyeuristic neighbor to hear. Only when she was properly attired (or should I say, unattired) did the spanking begin. I knew her parents used more than their hands when they spanked her but until that day I never knew exactly what. Although my view was limited I could see her mother's hand when she raised it between swats. It rose and fell countless times before stopping. I don't mean the spanking. Just the hand motion and that was only long enough to pick up some sort of paddle and begin again. From the sounds Cynthia made I didn't need to say "I'll bet it hurt." to know the answer. In her own way she was telling her Mom (and me) "It sure did." or in that case, it was more along the lines of "It sure does."
By the way, the window and shade stayed open for every spanking I knew about after that. I often heard her complain about it but get no sympathy for her plight. Her mother would reiterate that it was Cynthia's choice to get herself into trouble but the decision of how and where she was to pay for her misbehavior was out of her hands. The humiliation of the neighbors hearing her get spanked would add that extra little bit of spice so necessary for a good punishment.
The incident I'm going to tell you about occurred when I was in my sophomore year at State U. and she was in her second year at the local community college. I was home for the summer but spent most of my time working so I didn't get to see much of her until one Saturday afternoon. She came to my house holding a canvas tote bag and looking very nervous as she asked to see my parents. When I said they were gone for the weekend she said, "Damn! I really need to see them today."
I asked what she needed and if I could help. She blushed bright red and said, "I don't know if you can but . . ."
After a moment to collect her thoughts she said, "I just got off the phone with my folks. I did something really stupid and it's the kind of thing I normally would get spanked for. Don't look so shocked, I know you heard every one of my spankings until you went off to the University and it shouldn't surprise you to know they still treat me like a child when I misbehave. By the way, I've never heard anybody making fun of me for that so I have to assume you kept my secret to yourself. Thanks. I would've died if anybody at high school ever found out they still spanked me. I guess that's why I feel I can talk to you about this."
I assured her she could tell me anything and I would never repeat it. She smiled a bit and nodded. She said, "Thanks again. I know I can trust you but this is hard. Anyway, I had to listen to one of their better lectures for the last half-hour. As you can imagine, they were none too happy and it was uncomfortable and humiliating but better than what they would do if they were here. They won't be back for another two weeks and they always believed punishment should be given as soon after the offence as possible so it seemed like I had avoided a spanking."
She looked like she was on the verge of tears so I gave her my handkerchief as I was trying to understand her last comment. The implication was that her bottom wasn't so safe after all but what did she mean by that?
She offered my handkerchief back to me but I suggested she keep it. It looked like she would need it again before too long. At the time I didn't realize just how much crying she would be doing before she left my house but I don't want to get ahead of myself.
She took a deep breath and continued, "Unfortunately, they felt the lecture wasn't enough. They were determined to add a spanking to my punishment and even considered having one of them come home to deliver it or making me fly to them for it. Can you imagine what it would be like to go on your first airplane trip with the knowledge that there's a really good spanking waiting for you upon arrival. Not just a regular spanking but one that would take into account the extra cost of the trip. There was no way I was going to get out of a sore rear end so I suggested an alternative. And that's why I'm here. I reminded them of how we used to hear your folks spanking you so we knew they were quite able and willing to use corporal punishment."
I had to smile as I said, "You don't have to remind me. I remember those times all too well. But what's that got to do with you?"
She did not return my smile but stayed quite serious as she answered, "Since it was decided I needed a spanking and they weren't home my suggestion was that I come here to get it. My folks agreed and here I am but if I don't get spanked today there'll be Hell to pay later. The old couple who live on the other side of me have grown children and I don't know if they ever spanked them, but I guess I'll have to ask them spank me on my parents' behalf. Thanks for listening. I better get going."
You could see her reluctance to make that journey as she very slowly stood up. I said, "Wait. I know you don't want to go to them. Why not wait until Sunday night when my folks get home."
She shook her head, "No. It's got to be this afternoon and I have to show them proof. Your Dad has that neat old clock that shows the date and time. I'm supposed to have them take my picture next to the clock with the results of the spanking clearly visible. Thanks for the suggestion but it's not going to work. I should probably call Mom to see if that other couple is acceptable first. If she doesn't like the idea I'll be getting an extra spanking for nothing."
She still made no move to leave. It was as if she was waiting for me to recognize the obvious solution.
I pretended to be giving the problem a lot of thought but the I had already made up my mind as to what should happen next. I asked, "What were their exact words? Did they say that one of my parents should spank you or did they just agree to you coming to my house for it?"
She knew exactly what I was talking about and replied immediately. "The plan is for me to come here and get spanked. Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"
I reached out and held her hand. "If what you're thinking is that I'm thinking about the fact that you're here for a spanking, I'm here with nothing better to do and when I'm done spanking you we could take that picture so your parents would be satisfied that you got the punishment they decreed and you wouldn't have to take a more mortifying trip to your other neighbors, then you're right. That's what I'm thinking. So, what do you think? Do you want me to spank you?"
She nodded a bit too enthusiastically but it could be construed as relief that she didn't have to go those other people. Now that the fact that I was going to spank her was established I said, "I'll warn you, it's going to be a hard one just like your parents gave you. The picture will make it quite evident if I go easy because we're friends and based on what I used to hear, they didn't believe in short little spankings. We've got to get your bottom as red as the way it would be if your folks were here to do the job."
She still didn't look as upset about her upcoming spanking as you might expect as she responded, "I understand and you're right. All their spankings were much longer than I wanted them to be and as you know, they spanked hard. I don't think there was an inch of my bottom they didn't get to and return often. You're right about the redness too. I wasn't in a position to see what my bottom looked like during the process but I would look at myself in the mirror afterwards. It's been a long time since my last one so you'll have to do a good job to get it into that state again. I really hate asking you to do this. Actually, I hate having to do this at all. I don't mind telling you I've been scared since the decision to come her to get spanked was made but I'm glad it's you that's going to do it."
She had raised her head a little and there was the tiniest hint of a smile as she finished. It seemed foolish to say I didn't mind performing this onerous duty but I said it anyway and she didn't act like she thought my comment was foolish at all. After a moment I said, "Then I guess we better get to it but first we should do something about the clock. I can't see you climbing up on the mantle so we'll have to move it to a lower table so it would be at the same level as, um, as the other thing that's supposed to be in the picture?"
She took her camera from the tote bag while I rearranged a piece of furniture or two. I put the clock on an end table and she seemed relieved to have an excuse for delay. She stood next to it and the two things (the clock and her bottom) were not close enough so with the aid of some books we adjusted it (the clock, not her bottom) to the right height. It was almost funny to add a book, have her stand next to the clock, add another book, have her stand next to the clock, take that book away and replace it with a thicker one, have her stand next to the clock and so on until it was perfect. Actually, forget that "almost funny." It was really funny and we were laughing as we made numerous tiny adjustments and the reason for our enterprise was momentarily forgotten. Well, not entirely forgotten. Every time she faced the wall and I got to stare at her rear end I was reminded of all the times I heard it receive its due and in a short while I would get to see it over my lap with a lot fewer clothes and waiting for my hand to infuse fresh color into it.
Now that the clock was ready for the picture it was time to prepare the other object. The silliness we displayed faded away as she kicked her sandals off and took it upon herself to pull a chair out from the dining room table. She faced me and asked, "Is this O.K? I know you were spanked up in your room but . . ."
I smiled in sympathy and understanding and said the location she chose would do just fine. As I took my assigned place she was unfastening her jeans. As I mentioned before, when I watched from my room she obediently removed them while the designated spanker was getting settled. It appeared that she was extra nervous with me because she waited until I was seated and looking at her before continuing. I also remembered that she always did it rather quickly but my presence seemed to made that a more difficult task. She slowly slid them down her legs and coyly stepped out of them. And very nice legs they were. She turned away to put the jeans on the floor behind her and I was treated to my a good look at the way her panties tightly hugged her rear end. And a very nice rear end it was.
As she approached me she had her hands folded in front of her and wordlessly started to get into spanking position. I put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Not so fast. I think you've forgotten something."
She nodded and said, "You're right. I know you used to watch from your room so I guess you know about the paddle. No spanking picture would be complete without a number of noticeable marks from it. It's in the bag. I'll get it."
She was a beautiful sight. Her T-shirt barely covered the top of her panties and I was afforded a lovely view as she walked away and then returned. As before she had her hands and now the family paddle covering her crotch. She presented the implement to me and I put it within easy reach on the table. When I turned my face back towards her she said, "I'm ready."
However, I was not. I said, "There's one more thing to do first. Or should I say one more thing to be removed first. Panties off."
In spite of why she was here and why I made that command and what was going to happen after they were gone she managed a shy smile. "I guess there's no point in telling you they leave them on when they spank me. You've probably heard them tell me to take them off every time. But this is embarrassing enough as it is. I'll have to pull them down for the picture so you're going to see my bare rear end but couldn't it wait until after the spanking?"
I hesitated as I gave the matter some thought. She was a friend of sorts and I should show her a little mercy. I was just about to agree to her request when I noticed she had her fingers in the waistband ready to accept my refusal. There was also that slight hint of a smile I had seen earlier so I decided to try a different tack. "Do you think this would be a proper spanking on anything less than your bare bottom?"
I was really not surprised when she shook her head and peeled them off. Oddly enough, she acted just as nervous as she was when she took her jeans off and prolonged the chore by inching them down very slowly. She may have been delaying the inevitable trip over my knees but I didn't mind the wait. In fact, I was enjoying every second of her performance. When she stood up she started to put her hands together in front of her again but this time it was my head shaking a "No." and she let them hang at her side. As I mentioned earlier, her T-shirt came a little below her waist but ended short of impairing my view. I would've loved to stare at what I was seeing for quite a while but there was a job to do and I had already decided to show her some mercy. Not in regards to her spanking. No, I was going to give her one to remember. The only mercy I had in mind was to limit her seemingly humiliating half-nude display while waiting for the spanking so I patted my thigh and helped her into the most advantageous position. Advantageous for me anyway.
Just as I was tempted to stare at her a moment ago, I was not presently inclined to do more than gaze at the wonder on my lap and enjoy the feel of that lovely skin. I changed my mind. I would show a little mercy a second time. It had to be mortifying to put herself where she was and she didn't need or deserve to have me treat her like an involuntarily available sex object. Instead she was an involuntarily available spank object so I spanked.
She had said I was to get her rear end very red and spread that color evenly over the entire surface. Any job worth doing is worth doing well and my handkerchief was doing double duty. She put it up to her mouth to muffle her cries and periodically it would wipe away her tears. When I was satisfied that her folks would be satisfied with the coloration process I gave her a minute to compose herself. That was another unplanned mercy since I had seen her Mom go right into the paddling with no respite. However, I needed her to be able to speak so I could ask her how many times the paddle usually landed.
Between sniffles she said, "The number changes with each birthday. I'm up to twenty and please don't make me wait for them."
Well, I guess my last act of mercy wasn't as compassionate as I thought.
Needless to say, the twenty swats with the paddle weren't very lenient either. She wanted its visits to be noticeable in the picture and that was not going to happen with soft strokes. I made each one of them count. By the way, I counted. She was suffering enough so that keeping track of these finishing touches would've been difficult at best.
I let her lay on my lap and cry until she said we should take the picture while the marks were still fresh. When she stood next to the clock her T-shirt had to be raised a bit to get the full extent of my efforts visible. After I took two pictures I said, "There. That's done. We can take the rest of your clothes off now."
She spun around and blurted, "What are you talking about?"
I put the camera down. She was still holding the hem of her T-shirt above her waist and I replaced her fingers with mine. As I pulled upwards I said, "Raise your arms so I can get this off. I know your Mom always gave you an extra three swats with the paddle for arguing with her about taking your panties off. But the way I see it, that's a penalty you owe the spanker and not part of the original punishment. I've chosen to waive the extra swats in favor of something different. That's a good girl. Turn around so I can unhook your bra. There's a few things I'm curious about. I heard your Mom giving you one hell of a lecture last month for something you did. She sounded pretty mad but I didn't hear anything that sounded like you getting spanked. Turn around again and let's slip this thing off your arms. Beautiful. Step back so I can look at you. And then there's the little matter of me seeing you talking to my folks this morning. I distinctly heard you tell them to have a nice trip to the lake. Clasp your elbows behind your back and thrust out your chest. Very nice. What these things tell me. . . No not those things but your hard nipples are telling me plenty. The other items I mentioned lead me to believe your parents no longer spank you and that you knew I was going to be alone for the weekend. Do you mind if I touch them? Oh, they're marvelous. Just the right size to fit in my hand. Where was I? Oh yes, I have to think you came over her because you wanted me to spank you. Am I close?"
The nude girl whose breasts I was fondling nodded and while she was adding my clothes to the growing pile on the floor she expanded on my hypothesis. Our conversation was interrupted often with blatantly sexual remarks and the repositioning of ourselves to my bedroom so I'll summarize it for you. She caught a glimpse of me that day she first left her shade up and knew I was getting an earful. It was that night when she first thought about what it would be like if I was actually there in her bedroom and watching her get spanked. She surprised herself by not being horrified but actually thinking about it in erotic terms. It didn't take long before her fantasy version of me went from observer to active participant. She never had the nerve to act on her idea but knowing I was listening made her punishments a little easier to take. Well, maybe not easier but something was different. She decided to keep her window open and shade up after that first time. She laughed as she told me her Mom noticed it once and went to close them. Thinking quickly, Cynthia thanked her and said it would be very embarrassing to have anybody else hear her get spanked. In essence, she tricked her mother into demanding that they remain open for all future spankings as extra(?) punishment. The occasional complaint when she was already in for a discipline session ensured that the decree stayed in effect. She never got to the point where she willingly did something just to get a spanking but when she was going to get one for valid cause she always looked to see if I was close and would hear it.
In regards to her recent experience over a parental knee, I was right when I surmised that her parents felt she was too old for spanking since she started going to college but that didn't keep her from thinking about them. I wasn't the only man in her fantasies to apply stern discipline to her rear end but when she tired of the latest movie star or cute classmate I would return as her phantom spanker. The first weekend we were both home alone was about a month ago. That's when she got her idea but she chickened out. As soon as she saw my folks leave this morning she decided to put her plan in motion. Granted it took a couple of hours of vacillating before she decided to go through with it but after we spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, we were both glad she finally found the courage.
I had to admire her for the story she came up with that Saturday. The idea of a dated picture to "force" me to give her the spanking that day was brilliant. The only part of her plan that had a down side was the paddle. She wasn't sure how she would actually respond to my spanking. Would it be as erotic as her fantasy? And there was the outside chance that I would think ill of her strange desire. With those possibilities in mind she had no choice. If she was to convince me that her parents had actually sent her over for punishment she had to be prepared for the real thing. She rightly assumed I knew how her parents spanked her and that included the paddle. Her whole charade would fall apart if she didn't have it with her and was prepared to endure it. Although she did so semi-willingly she asked me not to use it again. Deception was no longer necessary when she wanted me to spank her so my hand and I were happy to agree.
Before the summer was over we had only a few opportunities to be together but we made the most of them. Her first fantasy about us was to have me in her bedroom and watch her get spanked. We couldn't figure how to accomplish that so we moved to her second oldest one. I followed her into her bedroom and (without out the paddle but with the argument about her panties) I gave her a wonderful spanking. When she wanted to get one in my room I changed the rules. She still tried (unsuccessfully) to keep her panties on but they were the only things she was wearing at the time.
She transferred to State U. that fall and moved in with me so we can share our mutual love for spankings followed by fantastic wild sex much more often.
Oh, and an interesting note about that paddle. It did get used again, albeit infrequently. She slyly convinced her parents it would be fun to keep it in her desk as a reminder to keep her grades up. They laughed at the idea and we wondered what they would think if they knew it occasionally came out of hiding when she decided she needed a good hearty punishment.
We still have that old thing but it's been retired. Now when she wants a more severe session we use a new paddle. It's beautifully carved with our names and wedding date engraved on it and was a special little present from her folks and mine. I guess we really didn't fool them that much after all. Maybe it was the pictures we took and then forgot about. It was her Mom's camera and now they're laminated on one side of our special paddle. The side that faces up when the paddle comes down on the nicest rear end in the world.
Life is good.
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