I Was Spanked As A Teen

SPANKYPANTS
Recently I had lunch with an old friend from work. Now that I'm retired I don't get to see much of the old group, so one day Daphne asked if we could meet for lunch at the local Chinese place. So over a plate of Mongolian grill we chatted about old times.
While we were eating we observed a little girl who was being very unruly and obviously embarrassing her mom in public. Nowadays parents have to be very careful about disciplining their kids in public, what with child abuse laws and self-righteous people eager to turn them in to Child Protection.
"Boy," observed Daphne, "if I had behaved like that my parents would have me nursing a hot bottom when we got home!"
I was curious. "You got spanked?" I asked.
"I sure did!" replied Daphne. "And it didn't stop when I was a teenager either."
"Neither did my spankings," I said. "My Mom worked my bottom over with her hairbrush, right on my bare!"
"At first I got it on the bare too," Daphne admitted, "but later my sister Iole and I had to wear these special panties to protect us a little." Daphne and Iole (pronounced Ee-oh-lay) were of Greek descent and were given the names of Greek goddesses.
I was curious. "What happened?" I asked as I picked up a few strands of grilled noodles with my chopsticks.
Daphne explained that her dad was the punisher, although her mom was more than capable when she had to be. He used a wide belt that was cut down to about half its length and attached to a handle. The condemned girl was confined to her room for twenty-four hours, in only her bra and panties, without meals except for a good breakfast before being sent to her room. At an appointed time, usually after dinner, she was called downstairs to take her whipping. This was done by making her lie over a stuffed footstool, pull down her panties, and hold still while her dad flogged her butt until it was covered with red painful welts.Then she was sent crying back up to her room to finish her jail time.
Her mom observed that the only problem with the bare-bottom method was that her dad hit pretty hard, and soon the leather strap would peel the hide off, leaving the girl with abrasions.


Daphne's mom hit upon a relatively merciful idea. She went to the department store and bought the girls some panties, sheer white nylon ones that were two sizes too small for each girl. Back home she sewed a strip of elastic down the back of the panties, with a hook and eye fastener in front. Now their heinies would be somewhat protected, although being encased in tight sheer nylon it would not hurt any less. She christened these panties "spankypants" and showed Daphne and Iole how to put them on. The girl to be spanked had to wriggle into the tight panties and pull the elastic down between her cheeks, then fasten it in front with the hook and eye fastener. This pulled the spankypants tight without so much as a wrinkle. There was also a new position to assume. Each girl had to braid her hair into pigtails, then kneel on the footstool and bend far over with her nose on the carpet and her hands resting on her spread-out pigtails. This was a very awkward position which threw all the girl's weight onto her hands so she could not raise her head, while her poor hind end was raised up high. Their dad then applied the leather strap to the thin spankypants until he could see the red begin to glow through the nylon. After the strapping the girl had to limp painfully upstairs to complete her confinement, which was over once the dawn came. Then she was allowed to come down to breakfast.
"The first time I felt that strap on my spankypants I just let out a howl," said Daphne. "It was bad enough on the bare bottom, but somehow the spankypants sort of mounded my cheeks and made them more vulnerable."
"How many lashes did he give you?" I asked, thinking maybe the girls were given set sentences the way my sisters and I were.



"It depended on what we did," Daphne explained. "Usually he just kept whipping until he could see the pink through the nylon--and of course until we promised to amend our future behavior!"
"Weren't you--you know--showing everything to your dad when you knelt over?"
"Not with the spankypants on," Daphne laughed. "If we were bare, then of course we would have been on full display. That's why Mom had us lie over the footstool and not up on our knees. I saw Iole get it one time, and I could see that the elastic band really hid a lot. But I could see those stripes right through the panties!"
Daphne and I ordered dessert.
"It was really uncomfortable," she continued. "You know, the spankypants were so tight and confining, like a second skin. And having our hands resting on our pigtails like that just kept our noses down. We couldn't move anything because we were so off-balance."
Daphne was about a year or two older than I am. "When was the last time you got strapped?" I asked.
"Oh," said Daphne, "maybe sixteen or seventeen. Once we were out of high school we didn't get it any more. Iole is older, so she stopped getting it when I still had to get into my spankypants. You know, getting in trouble at school usually meant a strapping at home."
"My Mom never spanked us at home for getting punished at school," I admitted. "She didn't believe in double jeopardy."
"You're lucky," Daphne said.
"Well," I said, "we got enough of the hairbrush anyway." And I told Daphne how Mom put us right over her knee with our panties and hose down and made us count our own spanks. "We couldn't sit for days," I said.
"That's awful!" said Daphne.
"Well your spankypants story sounds pretty awful too!" I observed.
"When you're young," Daphne concluded, "you can survive anything--as long as no bones were broken!"
"Do you have any resentment?" I asked.
"Oh, no," Daphne laughed. "No matter how they did it, it's just a spanking."
We finished our ice cream and the waiter brought the check, which we split along with the tip.
I always notice that once the conversation gets rolling a lot of my friends and acquaintances tend to open up about spankings. I also observe that I rarely, if ever, bring up the subject.
So we parted, and I came home armed with another story--as well as Daphne's excellent recipe for Greek pastitso.