I Write Spanking Stories
This is an account of the few times I received corporal punishment. I grew up in a family who believed strongly against physical pain but being a young, curious and somewhat defiant girl I naturally challenged these boundaries which, on several occasions, granted me a warm behind.
I was a good girl most of the time however when o was around 13-14 I had a phase and I became really mouthy and gave my parents loads of attitude. I been smart with my mum as I was leaving the dining room during dinner to get some water. She, being really annoyed with me already, replied that she was at her wits end with me and o would be punished for any more bad behaviour. I quickly chased away this fear as I knew -well I thought- she couldn’t do anything. Boy was I wrong! I went into the fridge and cut myself some cheese to eat in secret as I grabbed the water jug. Before I explain what happened next I must say that although I regularly attended dance classes (which will become very important in the story) I was a very clumsy child with little to no coordination. Anyway, as I grabbed the jug, still stuffing my face, it slipped and sent the water, as well as the contents of one of the shelves in the fridge, cascading over the floor with a loud bang! I wanted to finish my cheese but as I was my dad rushed in the room and saw the awful mess and was enraged to see me standing there, eating.
“Was this your doing?”
I gulped as I glanced around the kitchen to face the mess I had made.
“N-no daddy”
“So who made the kitchen look like a pig sty? WHO MADE THIS DAMN MESS??”
I started whimpering as a lie formulated in my mind.
“I wasn’t me, I just opened the fridge and it was like that it-
Daddy was clearly not happy
“ALL OVER THE FLOOR?”
“N-no I mean all messed up and I didn’t do it” I was mumbling and I knew he didn’t like it. He roughly took my chin in his hands and pulled me closer to his face.
“So who did then?”
My voice was barely audible “I-i guess you or mummy...”
Despite towering over me as I said this I knew he heard and I barely had time to register what was happening before I felt a burning slap across my face angry like a fire. The tears in my eyes were I danger of falling but o knew better than to show self pity for this wouldn’t help me get away with my wrong doing. Daddy tugged me by the ear into the living room and ordered me to kneel facing my m with two hands on my head.
“Explain to your mother what you have done!” He bellowed still simmering. My mum looked at me sternly as explained and the look of shock turned to anger which turned to disgust. I was shaking as dad unbuckled his belt and ordered me to hold my hands up side by side. I started begging for mercy and screaming as the belt slid through the loops. “Hold up your hands or you truly will be leathered raw” dad replied monotone. I was still lying at his feet screaming and crying so my mum had to drag me back up to the wall and hold be firmly. I twisted and turned but I couldn’t get out of her grip. “ HOLD OUT YOUR HAND OR I’LL MAKE YOU BEND OVER THE COUCH!” daddy screamed positively fuming by now. I still held my hands to my side but mums stinging hand across my face was enough for me to draw my hands out of my pockets and hold them out, visibly shaking. I had calmed down slightly but my dad was still bellowing his lecture and mum was shaking me hard. I wasn’t listening because I was still so shocked until a sharp, extremely painful CRACK brought me back to reality. An angry red welt began rising on my hand. “What do you have to say for yourself?” It took me a while to understand but my slowness to respond was seen as another act of defiance which caused the belt to be raised and smack down on my hands. I was openly crying and squirming trying to put my hands under my arms but mum was too strong and held me iron clad. “Stupid girl, stupid girl, STUDID GIRL!” This burst of anger caused another loud crack and a harder lick from the belt which made me scream. I was shivering and crying and shrieking and my hands were in agony as the belt flew down and thrashed my hands. “ You’re the worst parents in the whole world!” I screamed and broke free of my mums hold. This was a short lived victory as my dad picked me up and with a struggle half pulled down my jeans to reveal my pants and started smacking my bum firmly until I stopped resisting. Then, he carried me to my room and sat me on my bed, closed the door and left.
I was a hot snivelling mess but I couldn’t do anything with my hands so I just laid if my bed with my hands under my arms wallowing in self pity and fear of a possible further punishment. I wasn’t sure if my hands could take any more after that belting.
A while later mum came upstairs with a hairbrush. I assumed this was to brush my hair with as we did that every night so I simply said “I don’t want you to brush my hair mum”
“ I won’t brush your hair Tabitha but I’ll darn well sort out another place” and with that she scooped me up and placed me standing in front of her as she sat on the bed. “Now you know you have been a very naughty girl and I don’t want you to get used to this, so what I’m going to do is going to hurt but I don’t want to see any more of this disgraceful behaviour. After you will go downstairs, apologise to your father and then stand in the corner of your bedroom to think about what you have done wrong instead of doing lines. However if I get any more bad behaviour from you tonight, you will be doing lines, I don’t care if it’s a school night!” She explained and with that said she told me to bend over her knee. Despite this being my first over the knee spanking from my parents I knew the rules of a spanking from previous encounters with my grandmother. After I adjusted myself over her knee, she raised my skirt and, to my horror, pulled down my pants. I ,to add to the fear of a bare bottom, scowled under my breath and muttered something about injustice. Damn my stupid mouth! On hearing this, mum, rained down a flurry of smacks with her hand causing a very painful sting that kept getting worse each time. Then after a short pause of squeezing each of my buttocks, which hurt a great deal, she spanked more consistently and hit more sensitive parts of my behind which caused me to squirm a lot as she delivered her lecture. When she had seen fit to have finished spanking and lecturing me she stood me up, shook me hard and said something about how she does not expect this in the future from me. She told me to stay standing as she went to get the cream and to certainly not rub my bottom and keep my hands on my head and my bum on the wooden chair. I sat down as she turned around I jumped up from the sheer sting the spanking had and yelled” owwww crap it HURTSSS!!” Mum rushed back in the room and without saying anything pulled me back over her knee and completely pulled off my jeans and t-shirt and pulled UP my panties as high as she possibly could and grabbed the hairbrush. By now I was howling and I could hear the neighbours laughing but I didn’t care anymore. Then dad stomped up the stairs growling and walked over to me and mum. He didn’t just watch this humiliating affair, he pulled up my panties and gave me the most fearful wedgie as mum thrashed my bum with the hair brush. Kicking my legs only earned hard slaps from dads hands in between mums slaps but I didn’t stop. When he had enough, he slapped me right across my face twice and roared “ENOUGH!” He pulled my pants down and took me on his lap and took mum to hold my hands in front. Then he smacked my poor red stinging buttocks for what felt like an eternity. This was actually around half an hour and by the end I wasn’t resisting because the pain was too much. When he’d finished he plopped me onto the wooden chair and told me to keep silent and hold out my hands. I squirmed and whimpered but after the last hour, I knew to be obedient. He unlooped his belt and announced he had not finished my belting and I would get extra for my disobedience during and after both the belting and the spanking. Mum demanded I count the strokes and if I lost count I would get extra. I was to get 10 strokes across my hands together. Woe betide my already bruised dark red hands. I was petrified as he raised the belt. With the spanking, I had almost forgotten the pain of the belt but I was reminded by the first stokes that succeeded each other in a quick flurry. Each stroke got a louder yelp as I contolled my breathing and squeezed my eyes such. I was sobbing. I was mortified when the 10 was over to hear dad saying I would get 100 extra lines added on to my normal amount as a consequence of not counting. I asked if I could get 10 licks instead and to my surprise dad chuckled and said “ you won’t be saying that when gran sorts you out” but he didn’t decline. After every stroke I was required to say “thank you for punishing me sir I truly deserve it because I have been very naughty”. The next ten were agony and I was squirming and kicking and yelling so loudly; I really regretted choosing 10 licks especially as I was trying so hard not to mess up my words. I was sweating snivelling and sobbing loudly and dad saw how much pain I was in so he gave me one last stroke which he put a lot of effort into and the loud CRACK! signalled no more. I was screaming in agony and my hands were shaking in effort to keep them up and resist the temptation of cooling them. Through my sobs I begged to finish the punishment and dad turned to look at mum slightly worriedly. I had 4 more strokes to and I couldn’t bear the thought of having to do 100 lines and then another 40. Slowly my dad raised the belt high above his head and before lashing down he said simply “ I gave the option not to get these strokes so I will make sure they count” before bringing the belt down 4 more times across my purple swollen bruised hands. I shrieked after each blow. When he had finished, he bent me over the the bed and held onto the belt as he began lecturing me on the error of my ways and making me pledge not to misbehave or god forbid. With every point or slow response I have, a sharp lash of the belt was administered to my bum which, like my hands, were quickly reminded my of the pain it was in after the agony it experienced during the spanking. At the end of the lecture both my bum and my hands were smarting and I felt the welts forming.
Then I was made to stand in the corner as mum applied cream to my hands( but not my bum to my great disappointment) and told me what to write in my lines. I was to write: I am a naughty girl who is defiant, insolent and clumsy and deserves to be punished severely” 100 times. It was 7 o’clock and I was to be in bed at 7:30 as a part of the punishment, so I got started immediately though my swollen hand fumbled and I found it hard to write neatly due to the pain. I finished at 7:45 and went to bed without saying good night to my parents and thought nothing of it. I slept on alternating sides trying to cool my hands and my bum equally whilst trying to forget my growling stomach which felt starved after an absent dinner. It’s fair to say I didn’t sleep well.
When I woke up I got dressed with some difficulty so it took me longer than usual. I went down for breakfast and I saw my mum at the breakfast table. Instead of breakfast I saw a plain sheet of lined paper, a pencil, a timer and my lines from yesterday. I was puzzled but I went into the kitchen to find something to eat despite the cold look my mum was giving me. When I finished I went upstairs to brush my teeth and finish getting dressed. I returned downstairs to go to school and I shouted at mum that I was ready to go. Dad, I thought, had already left for work but as I walked towards the front door there he was. He took me by the ear and dragged me back to the kitchen and sat me down in the ‘naughty chair’. Mum looked furious but her voice was calm.
“Tabitha, these lines are unacceptable. First you disobey your parents, then you have the audacity to present me this, and then you continue you defiant attitude. You will copy out these lines 50 times before school.”
“But mum I’ll be late for school” I started to argue. Then I felt the familiar strike that made my face flush all red. I was angry but I had no choice so I got to work to make sure I wasn’t late. I was huffing and puffing and rolling my eyes which got me bent over the chair and I had to write my lines as firm spanks were administered over my panties. After I had finished my mum inspected it and unsurprisingly announced it wasn’t good enough and had to do it 25 times again. Then I lost it “mum I am going to be late and you know what the punishment is!! A DETENTION not to mention the paddle. “ I had tried so long to maintain my clean report: I’ve only had two detentions but if I get another I’ll get the cane; and it was all going down hill. I felt the slap across my face again but this time it stung much more and I realised it was mum who was wearing her rings. Dad then held me bent over the chair and smacked my bare bum very hard and showed no signs of stopping. My sobs rang through the house which almost covered the sound of the timer going off. Mum stood up and walked towards the front door and dad pulled up my panties and ushered me out the house as I grabbed my school bag and ran to the car.
Once in the car I was a wreck because I knew I’d be late. I told mum expecting some sympathy but she said “you’re nearly a senior Tabitha and we told you, if you get in big trouble at school, the belt is an option. Otherwise, you know what you get from detention.” Slowly I nodded my head with fear in the pit of my stomach. Detention can only mean one thing: the slipper.
We arrived at school well after the bell and trudged toward school knowing my fate. But instead of going straight to the office, I was so angry I did something I would soon really regret.
I was a good girl most of the time however when o was around 13-14 I had a phase and I became really mouthy and gave my parents loads of attitude. I been smart with my mum as I was leaving the dining room during dinner to get some water. She, being really annoyed with me already, replied that she was at her wits end with me and o would be punished for any more bad behaviour. I quickly chased away this fear as I knew -well I thought- she couldn’t do anything. Boy was I wrong! I went into the fridge and cut myself some cheese to eat in secret as I grabbed the water jug. Before I explain what happened next I must say that although I regularly attended dance classes (which will become very important in the story) I was a very clumsy child with little to no coordination. Anyway, as I grabbed the jug, still stuffing my face, it slipped and sent the water, as well as the contents of one of the shelves in the fridge, cascading over the floor with a loud bang! I wanted to finish my cheese but as I was my dad rushed in the room and saw the awful mess and was enraged to see me standing there, eating.
“Was this your doing?”
I gulped as I glanced around the kitchen to face the mess I had made.
“N-no daddy”
“So who made the kitchen look like a pig sty? WHO MADE THIS DAMN MESS??”
I started whimpering as a lie formulated in my mind.
“I wasn’t me, I just opened the fridge and it was like that it-
Daddy was clearly not happy
“ALL OVER THE FLOOR?”
“N-no I mean all messed up and I didn’t do it” I was mumbling and I knew he didn’t like it. He roughly took my chin in his hands and pulled me closer to his face.
“So who did then?”
My voice was barely audible “I-i guess you or mummy...”
Despite towering over me as I said this I knew he heard and I barely had time to register what was happening before I felt a burning slap across my face angry like a fire. The tears in my eyes were I danger of falling but o knew better than to show self pity for this wouldn’t help me get away with my wrong doing. Daddy tugged me by the ear into the living room and ordered me to kneel facing my m with two hands on my head.
“Explain to your mother what you have done!” He bellowed still simmering. My mum looked at me sternly as explained and the look of shock turned to anger which turned to disgust. I was shaking as dad unbuckled his belt and ordered me to hold my hands up side by side. I started begging for mercy and screaming as the belt slid through the loops. “Hold up your hands or you truly will be leathered raw” dad replied monotone. I was still lying at his feet screaming and crying so my mum had to drag me back up to the wall and hold be firmly. I twisted and turned but I couldn’t get out of her grip. “ HOLD OUT YOUR HAND OR I’LL MAKE YOU BEND OVER THE COUCH!” daddy screamed positively fuming by now. I still held my hands to my side but mums stinging hand across my face was enough for me to draw my hands out of my pockets and hold them out, visibly shaking. I had calmed down slightly but my dad was still bellowing his lecture and mum was shaking me hard. I wasn’t listening because I was still so shocked until a sharp, extremely painful CRACK brought me back to reality. An angry red welt began rising on my hand. “What do you have to say for yourself?” It took me a while to understand but my slowness to respond was seen as another act of defiance which caused the belt to be raised and smack down on my hands. I was openly crying and squirming trying to put my hands under my arms but mum was too strong and held me iron clad. “Stupid girl, stupid girl, STUDID GIRL!” This burst of anger caused another loud crack and a harder lick from the belt which made me scream. I was shivering and crying and shrieking and my hands were in agony as the belt flew down and thrashed my hands. “ You’re the worst parents in the whole world!” I screamed and broke free of my mums hold. This was a short lived victory as my dad picked me up and with a struggle half pulled down my jeans to reveal my pants and started smacking my bum firmly until I stopped resisting. Then, he carried me to my room and sat me on my bed, closed the door and left.
I was a hot snivelling mess but I couldn’t do anything with my hands so I just laid if my bed with my hands under my arms wallowing in self pity and fear of a possible further punishment. I wasn’t sure if my hands could take any more after that belting.
A while later mum came upstairs with a hairbrush. I assumed this was to brush my hair with as we did that every night so I simply said “I don’t want you to brush my hair mum”
“ I won’t brush your hair Tabitha but I’ll darn well sort out another place” and with that she scooped me up and placed me standing in front of her as she sat on the bed. “Now you know you have been a very naughty girl and I don’t want you to get used to this, so what I’m going to do is going to hurt but I don’t want to see any more of this disgraceful behaviour. After you will go downstairs, apologise to your father and then stand in the corner of your bedroom to think about what you have done wrong instead of doing lines. However if I get any more bad behaviour from you tonight, you will be doing lines, I don’t care if it’s a school night!” She explained and with that said she told me to bend over her knee. Despite this being my first over the knee spanking from my parents I knew the rules of a spanking from previous encounters with my grandmother. After I adjusted myself over her knee, she raised my skirt and, to my horror, pulled down my pants. I ,to add to the fear of a bare bottom, scowled under my breath and muttered something about injustice. Damn my stupid mouth! On hearing this, mum, rained down a flurry of smacks with her hand causing a very painful sting that kept getting worse each time. Then after a short pause of squeezing each of my buttocks, which hurt a great deal, she spanked more consistently and hit more sensitive parts of my behind which caused me to squirm a lot as she delivered her lecture. When she had seen fit to have finished spanking and lecturing me she stood me up, shook me hard and said something about how she does not expect this in the future from me. She told me to stay standing as she went to get the cream and to certainly not rub my bottom and keep my hands on my head and my bum on the wooden chair. I sat down as she turned around I jumped up from the sheer sting the spanking had and yelled” owwww crap it HURTSSS!!” Mum rushed back in the room and without saying anything pulled me back over her knee and completely pulled off my jeans and t-shirt and pulled UP my panties as high as she possibly could and grabbed the hairbrush. By now I was howling and I could hear the neighbours laughing but I didn’t care anymore. Then dad stomped up the stairs growling and walked over to me and mum. He didn’t just watch this humiliating affair, he pulled up my panties and gave me the most fearful wedgie as mum thrashed my bum with the hair brush. Kicking my legs only earned hard slaps from dads hands in between mums slaps but I didn’t stop. When he had enough, he slapped me right across my face twice and roared “ENOUGH!” He pulled my pants down and took me on his lap and took mum to hold my hands in front. Then he smacked my poor red stinging buttocks for what felt like an eternity. This was actually around half an hour and by the end I wasn’t resisting because the pain was too much. When he’d finished he plopped me onto the wooden chair and told me to keep silent and hold out my hands. I squirmed and whimpered but after the last hour, I knew to be obedient. He unlooped his belt and announced he had not finished my belting and I would get extra for my disobedience during and after both the belting and the spanking. Mum demanded I count the strokes and if I lost count I would get extra. I was to get 10 strokes across my hands together. Woe betide my already bruised dark red hands. I was petrified as he raised the belt. With the spanking, I had almost forgotten the pain of the belt but I was reminded by the first stokes that succeeded each other in a quick flurry. Each stroke got a louder yelp as I contolled my breathing and squeezed my eyes such. I was sobbing. I was mortified when the 10 was over to hear dad saying I would get 100 extra lines added on to my normal amount as a consequence of not counting. I asked if I could get 10 licks instead and to my surprise dad chuckled and said “ you won’t be saying that when gran sorts you out” but he didn’t decline. After every stroke I was required to say “thank you for punishing me sir I truly deserve it because I have been very naughty”. The next ten were agony and I was squirming and kicking and yelling so loudly; I really regretted choosing 10 licks especially as I was trying so hard not to mess up my words. I was sweating snivelling and sobbing loudly and dad saw how much pain I was in so he gave me one last stroke which he put a lot of effort into and the loud CRACK! signalled no more. I was screaming in agony and my hands were shaking in effort to keep them up and resist the temptation of cooling them. Through my sobs I begged to finish the punishment and dad turned to look at mum slightly worriedly. I had 4 more strokes to and I couldn’t bear the thought of having to do 100 lines and then another 40. Slowly my dad raised the belt high above his head and before lashing down he said simply “ I gave the option not to get these strokes so I will make sure they count” before bringing the belt down 4 more times across my purple swollen bruised hands. I shrieked after each blow. When he had finished, he bent me over the the bed and held onto the belt as he began lecturing me on the error of my ways and making me pledge not to misbehave or god forbid. With every point or slow response I have, a sharp lash of the belt was administered to my bum which, like my hands, were quickly reminded my of the pain it was in after the agony it experienced during the spanking. At the end of the lecture both my bum and my hands were smarting and I felt the welts forming.
Then I was made to stand in the corner as mum applied cream to my hands( but not my bum to my great disappointment) and told me what to write in my lines. I was to write: I am a naughty girl who is defiant, insolent and clumsy and deserves to be punished severely” 100 times. It was 7 o’clock and I was to be in bed at 7:30 as a part of the punishment, so I got started immediately though my swollen hand fumbled and I found it hard to write neatly due to the pain. I finished at 7:45 and went to bed without saying good night to my parents and thought nothing of it. I slept on alternating sides trying to cool my hands and my bum equally whilst trying to forget my growling stomach which felt starved after an absent dinner. It’s fair to say I didn’t sleep well.
When I woke up I got dressed with some difficulty so it took me longer than usual. I went down for breakfast and I saw my mum at the breakfast table. Instead of breakfast I saw a plain sheet of lined paper, a pencil, a timer and my lines from yesterday. I was puzzled but I went into the kitchen to find something to eat despite the cold look my mum was giving me. When I finished I went upstairs to brush my teeth and finish getting dressed. I returned downstairs to go to school and I shouted at mum that I was ready to go. Dad, I thought, had already left for work but as I walked towards the front door there he was. He took me by the ear and dragged me back to the kitchen and sat me down in the ‘naughty chair’. Mum looked furious but her voice was calm.
“Tabitha, these lines are unacceptable. First you disobey your parents, then you have the audacity to present me this, and then you continue you defiant attitude. You will copy out these lines 50 times before school.”
“But mum I’ll be late for school” I started to argue. Then I felt the familiar strike that made my face flush all red. I was angry but I had no choice so I got to work to make sure I wasn’t late. I was huffing and puffing and rolling my eyes which got me bent over the chair and I had to write my lines as firm spanks were administered over my panties. After I had finished my mum inspected it and unsurprisingly announced it wasn’t good enough and had to do it 25 times again. Then I lost it “mum I am going to be late and you know what the punishment is!! A DETENTION not to mention the paddle. “ I had tried so long to maintain my clean report: I’ve only had two detentions but if I get another I’ll get the cane; and it was all going down hill. I felt the slap across my face again but this time it stung much more and I realised it was mum who was wearing her rings. Dad then held me bent over the chair and smacked my bare bum very hard and showed no signs of stopping. My sobs rang through the house which almost covered the sound of the timer going off. Mum stood up and walked towards the front door and dad pulled up my panties and ushered me out the house as I grabbed my school bag and ran to the car.
Once in the car I was a wreck because I knew I’d be late. I told mum expecting some sympathy but she said “you’re nearly a senior Tabitha and we told you, if you get in big trouble at school, the belt is an option. Otherwise, you know what you get from detention.” Slowly I nodded my head with fear in the pit of my stomach. Detention can only mean one thing: the slipper.
We arrived at school well after the bell and trudged toward school knowing my fate. But instead of going straight to the office, I was so angry I did something I would soon really regret.
31-35, F
