I was then hugged by each of the women in turn. My maiden Aunt Beth likes a kiss on the cheek, which I delivered, and in the clinch my sister whispered, “Happy Birthday, little brother.” Those words used to really yank my chain when we were younger. Now, we just laugh. Sis is nineteen, but she inherited mom’s genes instead of dad’s. She tops me by a couple inches and is built like… Well, her future husband will have no complaints about Sis’ endowments. Plagiarism? Cheating? Forging our signatures?" roared her father, and suddenly Stacy knew what this was about. She tried to weasel her way out, begged for mercy, at least a delayed punishment (“Spank me on Monday, please!”), but her parents were too upset to grant her any kind of reprieve. He pressed the paddle against her lower butt. Fresh virgin skin rested under its sure commitment. She stayed still as the powerful impact lifted her tight cheeks, sending a wave of anguish through her behind. Despite its futility, she lifted her legs to ease her agonizing bottom. Sara’s gaze snapped up to meet his. Jacob’s eyes were cool and unnerving. The normal glint of humor that lived there was nowhere to be found. Let’s see, is it twenty-two or fifty-seven? I forget,” Samantha said, and gave my left cheek a pinch.

I saw red. Before I had time to even think about what I was doing, I had sat down on the kitchen chair, lowered my son’s pyjama trousers and flipped him over my lap. Obviously, up until this point Simon had no experience of this type of formal punishment but he still could sense the trouble he was in and was already wriggling around, trying to get up from the confusing and frightening position in which he found himself. I simply wrapped my left hand around his slim waist, raised my right hand and brought it down hard on his little bottom. Jacob grabbed her chin and turned her face so she couldn’t avert his gaze. “Eyes on me, young lady. Start again.” But today was different. No cane here. No mere Admissions Clerk. Any moment now: the prison Punishment Officer, bearing a birch. The birch, of which the girls whispered so reverentially. (Apart, that is, from those who’d received it: they fell silent, looked away, tried not to remember. Tonight, she’d become one of them).You"€™ve also got a planner in here, detailing your classes; there"€™s some cherry lip-gloss; everything a teenage girl like yourself would have. Does that put a stop to all this? Can you please put your uniform on?"€, Mrs. Maxwell asked, clearly done with Elizabeth. Mrs. Maxwell sighed and pulled the top the rest of the way down. Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief as the top appeared to stretch somewhat around her chest. She knew that the outfit was too small, but somehow it managed to fit her. Mrs. Maxwell then held the skirt stretched out before her. Too embarrassed to protest, Elizabeth stepped into the skirt and let the teacher pull it up for her. She waited patiently as Mrs. Maxwell adjusted the outfit, more than glad to just get this all over with.

Even after witnessing this event, I still felt no arousal about spanking. However, a few weeks later I had what can only be described as an awakening. Polly was away for the weekend with an old university friend, and Simon and I were at home alone. How"€¦? How is this all happening? It has to have something to do with Rachel. It all started when I tried to spank her again"€¦ Before too long, Rachel had begun to act up again. This time she openly talked to her friends as Elizabeth tried to teach. Elizabeth decided to let it slide at first, but after a few minutes the other students had begun to do the same. I played video games until about two, then took a shower and put on clean clothes. Mothers notice these things. When the time was right, I left my apartment to make the drive across town. I missed Sam and wished she were coming with me. Mom likes her a lot, and her presence would reduce the pressure on me to be sociable. I love mom, but Sam has much better social skills than mine. Then, before either of them could act a familiar voice called out from the door behind them, "€œWhat is the meaning of this?! Elizabeth, just what are you doing dressed like that and what are you trying to do to Rachel?"€advertisements, popups or other such junk. The library offers both free and paid memberships. The library blog is at http://spankinglibrary.blogspot.com/ You mean this,"€ Mrs. Maxwell asked and held aloft the license in question. It was labeled clearly as a learner"€™s permit. The age printed on the card as sixteen. In America in 1936, Mrs. Dorothy Spencer published her famous Spencer Spanking Plan. This was meant to result in marital bliss. It clearly defined when a man could spank his wife, and when a woman could whip her husband. Very detailed, it required that the rules and regulations be observed to the letter. In particular, women were to be spanked, never whipped. One leather goods store sold 297 whips in one day just after it was published. Someone must have believed in it! She pressed her bare feet onto the floor to keep still. She needed her hurt to atone. The paddle punched blazing pain, meeting honest repentance. She panted, determined to respect her punishment.