It was only by accident that Marjorie found out about the other girls in her neighbourhood. Looking back on all the years they had grown up together it was kind of strange that none of them knew about the others. She guessed that all of her friends had thought the same thing she had -- that she was the only one who got spanked. At least for the last five years or so; when they were little kids they knew because their friend would be hauled off by the ear by their parent, or even spanked in front of them. But finding out that now, when they were all in high school, nearly all of them were still regularly spanked by either their mother or father -- that was a bit of a shock.
Marjorie hadn't discovered this fact about all of her friends all at once. One evening, she had picked up the phone to make a call and heard her father talking on the other extension. But in the second or so before she could realize her mistake and put the receiver down, she heard some familiar sounds in the background on the other end of the line. It had to be a spanking taking place, and she heard Mr. Underhill's voice answering her father. She slipped the receiver back down as soundlessly and quickly as she could. The Underhills only had one child, her friend Marie.
It was hard to get her friends to talk about it. But when Marjorie volunteered some information about her own punishments, the others would usually open up and give some details in exchange. With one exception, all were relieved that they weren't the only one. Terri alone remained too embarrassed to ever discuss her spankings
They were spanked in different ways, too. Of the seven she knew about - herself, four friends and the sisters of two of them - Carol and Marie were the only ones spared the humiliation of having their underpants taken down. Carol really was shocked when she heard that Marjorie was spanked on the bare bottom. Carol was the youngest of the group, a sophomore in high school, and was on the small side. She wore her straight blond hair in a page-boy cut, which framed her rather cute face nicely. She easily overcame her relative youth in the circle of friends by her self-confidence and energy.
According to Carol, her dad always sent her down to the basement rec room when she was to be punished. There she had to wait for him while bent over the back of an old armchair, with jeans already down or skirt up, until he came downstairs. When she heard his footsteps on the stairs she screwed her eyes tightly shut and got herself ready, for it would only be a moment before he picked up the paddle from the nearby ping-pong table and began to apply it to the upraised seat of her panties. He didn't stop until the seat of the chair was damp from the tears of his sobbing daughter. But never had he pulled down Carol's underwear for her spanking, though he had often threatened to make the 16-year-old's next punishment on the bare.
Veronica's home situation was very different from Carol's. Her parents had divorced when she was 12, and it was hard on her and her younger sister and older brother. Three years ago, when she was 15, her mother had remarried, and things were fine between stepfather and children for several weeks after he had moved in and assumed his fatherly responsibilities. Then came the day one of them disobeyed him. In fairness to him, Ronnie's sister Elisabeth gave every indication of testing his power as parent over her; of the three children, she at 13 probably took her natural father's absence the hardest.
Tom Stephens, Veronica's new stepfather, was a very easygoing person, but to his credit he knew that he was being tested. He sent Elisabeth to her room immediately, and then had a long talk with his wife about what to do. She told him about how the children had been disciplined in the past. For Elisabeth's deliberate disregard for a family rule -- missing dinner time completely and never phoning -- a spanking would definitely have been in order. On the other hand, Mrs. Stephens' ex-husband had always carried out those punishments, and the children had not been spanked by their mother since the divorce. She acknowledged to Tom, however, that their behaviour had become the worse for it over the past few years.
They reached a consensus that the best approach would be for him to react very decisively to Elisabeth's behaviour, and to assume fully his role as father right away. This meant disciplining the children in the same way as they had been brought up -- with bare- bottom, over-the-knee spankings. Tom was a little hesitant, but his wife thought that he might risk losing the children's respect if his spankings were not as feared by them as were their natural father's.
Veronica well remembered what happened after her parents met that evening. Elisabeth was called into the parental bedroom, and soon there was the sound of her voice in frantic protest. "No, you can't, you can't!" was repeated over and over. Veronica could guess what was coming, and after a few more minutes of crying- sister and stern-parent sounds through the bedroom walls and door, a steady Smack-Smack-Smack could be heard that continued for the next ten minutes. Only afterward, when a sobbing Elisabeth stumbled into their room, did Veronica learn that it had been on the bare -- as Elisabeth, in her eagerness to escape after the spanking, had not bothered to pull up her pants. As she lay on the bed crying, her sister Veronica could see the evidence for herself that her new father meant business.
It wasn't that long before Ronnie found this out 'first-hand', as it were, and since that first time over her stepfather's knee it became about as regular as any other part of her life. She'd earn herself a spanking about every six weeks or so, but more often in the summer than the winter, when she had more time on her hands for mischief, and the good weather made her more forgetful of her family responsibilities. She would have to report to her parents' room, get a scolding, and then have to drop her shorts and assume the prostrate position over her stepfather's knee -- her long light- brown hair falling to the floor on one side while her panties were being tugged down to fall around her ankles on the other. Even after three years, she had never become so used to this act of baring that she didn't blush with shame at the sight her pale, naked backside and long, tan legs afforded her stepfather. Then the leather paddle -- the sole of a man's slipper attached to a short wooden handle -- that her stepfather had started using about a year ago would flash down across her upraised buttocks, and Ronnie would somehow endure the sting of another long paddling.
The first time had been the most embarrassing, though, and all the worse because she had earned her punishment that morning but had to wait until evening to receive it. Her stepfather had overheard her on the basement telephone using some rather vulgar language in describing a new boy at school to a friend. Mr. Stephens had been going out the back door on his way to visit a sick relative, but time out to inform her of what would await her on his return that night. For the rest of the day she could not get the image out of her head -- standing by his side having her pants taken down for her spanking.
When she heard the car pulling into the driveway, she nearly fainted from her anxiety, and when he called her into his room 10 minutes later, her knees were like jelly. And then the image she had obsessed about all day came true. His hands were at the button and zipper of her jeans, and down they went while she whimpered "no" and shuffled awkwardly until they were bunched around her knees. And then, that first time, he had proceeded to take down her underwear, while she was still standing there! It was more than she could handle, and she almost threw herself over his lap in her shame. But she quickly regretted her eagerness, as the spanking started right away and her white bottom was relentlessly transformed by his strong right hand into a blazing, splotchy red.
Unlike Ronnie, Marie Robinson was always spanked by her mother, but always in the living room with her dad free to watch if he happened to be downstairs. Marie had pleaded with her mother for a long time to have her punishments take place in private in Marie's own bedroom, but she had not acquiesced. For one thing, there were only the three of them in the house, and her mother also believed that if Marie was embarrassed by her father's presence, she did not have to misbehave and earn the spankings in the first place. Furthermore, she said, her father could just as well spank her himself, but preferred to have her mother in charge of her discipline. Marie usually backed down after these implied threats were made.
Her spankings took place invariably in the evening. She would help her mother clear the table after dinner and clean up in the kitchen, after which her mother would dismiss her to her room for 10 minutes or so to wait to be called down to the living room. Marie was always afraid that someone would come to the door, or that someone would call when she was over her mother's knee. As I've said, this is how Marjorie found out about Marie's spankings.
Mrs. Robinson would scold Marie for quite awhile as the woebegone young girl stood in front of her, head downcast, and apologized for her misbehaviour. Then calling Marie over to her right side, her mother would undo the belt and zipper of Marie's jeans, her standard outfit, and push them down to her lower thighs. This part of her punishment, in which her pants were taken down, was always the part Marie hated most, as it most reminded her of her childhood punishments. Her mother then took her wrist and guided her daughter well over her lap, so that Marie's full bottom was poised high over her mother's right knee. Marie usually wore rather tight, thin cotton panties, which when stretched taut in this position were almost transparent.
Only her mother's hand was used on most occasions, but always for a solid 10 minutes until Marie's entire bottom glowed red through the thin panties, and her upper thighs were a bright crimson. Every few months or so Marie's behaviour would merit, in her mother's opinion, an implement more painful than her hand, and Marie would be quite upset on those occasions when arriving downstairs to find a hairbrush sitting on the coffee table. It should come as no surprise that Marie was not silent during the proceedings, nor should it be hard to understand how Marjorie could have heard the sounds of Marie's spanking that night in the background of her father's conversation with Mr. Robinson.
Terri Rawlston never would talk about her spankings with Marjorie, except for that one time when she admitted still receiving them. More than that, Marjorie couldn't get out of her. Terri had always been shy to begin with, and was plainly embarrassed by the topic. Marjorie didn't press too hard, as she didn't want to arouse any suspicions of undue interest on Terri's part -- although, we might add, such interest was certainly there! However, despite Terri's silence, Marjorie knew about as much about Terri's punishments as she did about anyone else's; in fact, probably more, because Marjorie had actually seen a few of them!
It turned out that a former boyfriend of Marjorie's named Larry lived on the same block as the Rawlston's, so that the backyards of the two families met in the middle of the block. Marjorie had once confided to Larry about her own spankings; actually, this was prompted when he noticed her wincing as he was squeezing her bottom under her skirt. Anyway, she noticed that he didn't seem surprised that a girl of her age was still spanked, and so he told her about the Rawlings family.
There were three children, Terri the oldest at 16, her sister of 14, and a boy of 12. Spankings had always been frequent in the Rawlings household, and it was more or less an open secret on the block when one was being given. This was because all spankings were administered in the same room in the basement, in the back end of the house, where there were only screens in the windows most of the year, and never any curtains. Larry showed Marjorie the view out the window of his own room, from which one could see directly down into the Rawlings basement. He confessed that he had "happened" to see Terri and her sister punished many times over the years. And so, ironically, the girl who was of all of them the most embarrassed and ashamed of still being spanked, had also all along been punished unwittingly and without her knowledge in a semi-public manner.
Marjorie made Larry promise to call her the next time it sounded like a spanking was going to take place. She lived only a few blocks down Willow, and could be over to his place in 5-10 minutes. She didn't have to wait long, only a few nights later Tom was doing homework when he noticed the lights going on over in the Rawlings' basement. He called Marjorie immediately but while she was on her way over, he realized that with his folks home the two of them couldn't be alone in his room with the lights off. So Larry got on his jacket and met Marjorie outside, then led her quietly by the moonlight through the mazes of bushes and trees in the backyards of the block. Soon they could hear quite clearly the sounds from the Rawlings' basement, and Larry found the two of them a prime vantage point behind some bushes and a cherry tree, only 15 feet or so from the basement window. They could see Mrs. Rawlings upstairs in the kitchen window so they kept very still.
Marjorie's heart skipped a beat; down there in the basement room was Terri, sitting by herself! She looked miserable, and evidently already had been crying from the looks of her face. But despite Marjorie's excitement at finding Terri to be the unfortunate Rawling of the hour, she couldn't help but notice the room itself. It was a small room, and held only an old couch and the chair on which Terri was seated. But on one wall was a series of hooks, and dangling from them were a small game paddle, a short strap, another paddle about a foot long with rounded edges, and a longer strap. Marjorie was astounded when she saw these instruments, and she gave an involuntary shudder for Terri, who might well be feeling one of them very soon.
Mr. Rawlings then came into the room, and Terri immediately jumped up and began to plead with him in a shaky voice. It was clear from the intensity of her arguments that she didn't think she deserved the impending punishment. For awhile Marjorie even thought she would be disappointed in her hopes to see Terri spanked, as Terri's arguments seemed to be persuading Mr. Rawlings. They could see the gathering hope in Terri's eyes too, as she pleaded her case that she was not to blame. But in the end it was all for naught, as Mr. Rawlings finally ruled that her sentence would stand nonetheless, that she had been responsible enough for the event in question -- something about her younger brother hurting himself in a fall. Terri was now much more upset at her upcoming fate than she would have been had not her hopes for a pardon been raised. Her voice had a touch of the hysterical in it as she continued her futile pleas up to the end; her repeated "no, daddy, no, please, no..." mingling with little racking sobs as her father took down the small strap from its hook.
She was led over to the chair by her father, who after sitting down, seemed to be waiting expectantly. Marjorie didn't catch on to why until she saw Terri nervously reaching back to grasp up the hem of her pleated skirt, and quite reluctantly gather it up and hold it in the small of her back. Mr. Rawlings patted his right knee and Terri, still holding up her skirt in back, leaned slowly forward until she landed on his lap -- a little too far as she nearly lost her balance and pitched forward. But he held her in place with his left arm around her waist, then pulled up her skirt till it was well up out of the way. Marjorie's breath caught in her throat as she saw him wait again -- was Terri supposed to bare herself too?
Such was the case, for when Terri did not respond right away, her father threatened her with an even more severe punishment if she didn't get her panties down immediately. "No, Daddy, not this time, please, please -- " but her words were cut short by three rapid strokes of the short strap on the backs of her thighs. "I said NOW, young lady!" and Terri quickly reached back and grasped the elastic band of her underwear. She was forced to raise her buttocks high in order to completely tug them down to the middle of her thighs. Marjorie glanced over at Larry, who was breathing rather quickly and having some difficulty swallowing at the moment. She squeezed his hand but he didn't seem to notice; Marjorie was a little put off but had to admit that the bottom just bared in the basement below gave her own a lot of competition -- and after all, wasn't this all her idea?
Terri was crying softly even before she felt her father's arm around her waist once more and heard the rustle of his shirt which meant the strap was being raised, but at that point she stiffened her entire body in anticipation -- her bottom tightened, her head and legs came up and Marjorie could see the look of fear on her face, and her wide-eyed gasp when the first Smack! of the strapping landed. Mr. Rawlings swung the strap in a high, wide arc and used a lot of wrist at impact, so each stroke made a loud Pop! as it came down across Terri's clenching posterior. He would concentrate on one side of her bottom and sometimes even just one small area until she would howl and buck across his lap, and then he would move on to yet-unchastened territory. "Not the s-same s-spot, Daddy!" Terri protested more than once, but in vain, of course. Marjorie had to admire Mr. Rawlings facility with the strap; it didn't take that long for Terri's entire nether globes to glow with the dull red a soundly applied strap will produce.
After several dozen strokes, Terri was crying very hard and quite loud. Marjorie looked up and saw that Terri's mother had stopped what she was doing in the kitchen and was staring blankly ahead, biting her lip, obviously affected by the sounds from below. Terri's bottom was livid, and the strap had left marks all the way around her right side, and down her thighs as well. Terri was still struggling; every once in awhile jerking her head up at an especially hard stroke. Then Mr. Rawlings stopped rather abruptly and dropped the strap to the floor. Marjorie looked meaningfully up at Larry and made a sign that they should get going. But Larry caught her arm and whispered "Wait, there's usually more." Marjorie looked at him, a bit puzzled, but waited and watched. And sure enough, Mr. Rawlings ordered Terri off his lap, and over to the couch.
The next few minutes were very important ones for Marjorie, for as she watched Terri shuffle over to the back of the couch, rubbing her blistered buttocks and still sobbing from her strapping, Marjorie realized how light her own spankings had been by comparison. No longer would she so bitterly complain about her many hairbrushings over her father's knee, as here was Terri bending her already well-strapped bottom over the back of the old sofa, begging her father for "no more". Then as Mr. Rawlings took down the long, thin paddle and walked over to his daughter, Marjorie learned what it was to be really punished. Fascinated as Larry and Marjorie had been by the entire proceedings, it was almost too hard to watch as Terri was made to count out her age in solid paddle strokes, each laid on across the fullness of her already sore, stinging behind.
Larry and Marjorie left while Terri was still over the back of the sofa, crying hard and rubbing herself. Her father had already left the room, after ordering Terri up to her room. "I can see why she never wanted to talk about it", said Marjorie. "Not only must it be really embarrassing for her, but if I were always spanked that hard, I wouldn't ever want to think about it, much less talk about it!"
Marjorie also witnessed Terri's sister Cindy being punished, about two months later. That time she and Larry were up in his room when the sounds came wafting up from the Rawlings' basement, but his parents were out so they stayed there to watch. Cindy was very well-developed for her age, and already dated more than Terri -- who as we've said was on the shy side. Larry told Marjorie that Cindy got spanked much more often than did Terri, and Marjorie could see this for herself from the rather lackadaisacal attitude that Cindy was taking towards her impending spanking. Instead of arguing and pleading like Terri, Cindy hardly said a word -- though her bored and disdainful look spoke volumes itself. Marjorie didn't think this was a good strategy to take with an angry father before a spanking, and the look on Mr. Rawlings' face told her she was right. He made Cindy take her jeans off completely, then really gave her a long talking-to as the girl stood there in her t-shirt and rather skimpy white panties. If Mr. Rawlings had intended to change Cindy's attitude by this tactic, then his plan worked, because Cindy was more than a little embarrassed by her state of undress and was now clearly anxious to get the spanking over with.
What came next probably helped to change her attitude even more, for after Mr. Rawlings went over and took the small paddle from its hook, he gave Cindy a good old-fashioned blistering. As soon as the girl was over his lap her panties were yanked right down to her knees, and the paddling began. Marjorie was glad she wasn't on the receiving end, Mr. Rawlings may have been severe with Terri the time before but this time he was really mad. It seemed as though he put everything he had into each whack of the paddle onto Cindy's upraised buttocks. She began to struggle desperately to get off his lap and howling for him to stop, when she could manage a break from her steady crying. Marjorie knew that tune from her own painful experience: the rhythmic "huh-huh- huh-huh-huuuuuh-WHEEZE-huh-huh-huh-huuuuh" of continuous open- mouthed sobbing punctuated by hurried gasps for air. In his anger, Mr. Rawlings probably went on longer than he meant to, and when he finally told Cindy to get up and go to her room, she fell to the floor and rolled back and forth in agony trying to give her bottom some relief. As she lay there, crying hard and touching herself back there gingerly now and again to assess the damage, Cindy's behind glowed out of that basement room across the block like a stoplight.
Larry told Marjorie afterward that it was the hardest spanking he had ever seen Mr. Rawlings give. Unfortunately for Marjorie, that was the end of their conversation for the evening. They had been so engrossed in what they had been watching they hadn't heard Larry's folks arrive downstairs. Suddenly the bedroom door was opened by Larry's mom, Mrs. Thomas, and she surprised the two of them, in the dark on Larry's bed looking out the window. As they were fully clothed and not in any compromising positions, she wouldn't have been that angry, except that Larry's hand had unconsciously found its way onto the seat of Marjorie's jeans sometime during the preceding half-hour. Not to mention that the two of them did look a little flushed and were breathing quickly, though not for the reason Larry's mother assumed. All that tipped the scales of evidence against them. Marjorie got out of that house as quickly as she could, but not after Mrs. Thomas had given both of them a good scolding, and despite Marjorie's entreaties had promised to give her parents a call.
It wasn't a long walk home, and Marjorie hurried in the hope she could get there before the dreaded phone call came. That way she'd have a chance to have her say first and maybe diffuse the situation. No such luck -- Mrs. Brandt, Marjorie's mother, was on the phone when she got there and Marjorie didn't like the look on her face. Mrs. Brandt had rules of her own about such behaviour. Marjorie was among the brightest students in her graduating class, and had already been accepted by a prestigious Western university, but she couldn't talk her way out of this one. Her mother ordered her up to her room to wait until her father got home from the drugstore, and Marjorie knew very well what that meant.
As she waited in her room, anticipating yet another spanking across her father's lap, a million thoughts ran through her head. There was the usual butterflies-in-the-stomach, the sweaty palms, quickened heart and breath, and all-around agitation she had always felt no matter how often she was spanked. But this time there were the fresh and vivid memories of Cindy Rawling's paddling, not yet an hour old. That made Marjorie more afraid than usual before a punishment; she couldn't get the sight of Cindy's contorted, tear-soaked face and scalded bottom out of her mind.
And these memories and anxiety and fear were mixed together with a kind of eagerness for what was about to happen, an impatience and a trembling excitement. Marjorie's senses seemed to her to be extremely sensitive and alert. She was a little confused by the torrent of conflicting emotions that engulfed her; yet she was fully aware of her sexual feelings towards spanking. She had pursued her investigation of her friend's spankings avidly once she learned Marie's secret, and she knew it wasn't mere curiosity that caused her to hide behind bushes in Terri's backyard to watch her unfortunate friend's bare-bottom strapping. Even before this recent voyeuristic exploration of her friends' spanking sessions began, she had become aware of a curious inclination towards actually wanting to be spanked at the same time she dreaded it.
Marjorie looked the part of a serious, scholarly type, at least in her glasses and simple haircut -- shoulder-length straight brown hair, parted in the middle. She had dark brown eyes, a friendly face, and had filled out nicely in the right places. Her glasses and straightforward, no make-up, sweaters and jeans appearance did fool a few people, but not anyone who looked hard or long enough. Marjorie was among the most beautiful girls in her high school, and her lack of vanity about her looks won her more admiration than the looks themselves. In short, she was popular, dated regularly, and had her head on straight.
Her high school classmates therefore would not have recognized her as she sat on her bed waiting for her father's imminent arrival. Confident and composed she may be to the outside world, in her bedroom waiting to be spanked she was a flurry of nervous apprehension and erotic turmoil. Her glasses were off, over on her night table; she knew they always fell off while she was over his lap anyway. And she had checked herself in the mirror at least a dozen times to make sure she was presentable. She felt very warm, despite the nice breeze and her light clothes, and had already changed her blouse once because of perspiration. In real time she hadn't waited that long -- maybe 10 minutes -- before her father came in from the garage, but she just could not wait for the familiar knock on her door. There it was, and her father entered her bedroom and shut the door behind him.
Mr. Brandt's face showed more disappointment than anger with what he had just heard about Marjorie. He was also more than a little puzzled at how indiscreet and obvious she had been with Larry. As was his custom, he gave Marjorie a chance to explain her side of things instead of punishing her right off. This she did as far as promising that "nothing had happened", but she couldn't get around the bald facts of the two of them being on the bed in a dark room when Larry's parents were out. And so the moment for Marjorie finally arrived, the gruff command from her father to bring him her hairbrush from the dresser.
She was breathing quickly now; as she walked over to the dresser her knees felt like jelly, and she had the sensation of being detached from herself, more of a spectator than a participant. The hairbrush had been there on the dresser since she was a child, and had been used to spank her since she was 11. Its wooden, oval back had become smooth with frequent use in disciplining first her older sister Karen, now married and living in Pittsburgh, and then Marjorie. She picked it up and delivered it to her father, now seated on the edge of her bed, and waited by his side for the next command, the one that caused her the greatest trepidation and the greatest thrill -- to undress, and that meant completely. It was the one part of her spankings she never confessed to anyone, not her friends, not Larry. She admitted to getting it on the bare, just like most of her friends, but she knew it was only a half-truth -- she never said how bare. Long ago, her father told her that she would always be spanked completely naked, no matter how old, because it would be a reminder that she was still their child, and so was still expected to obey them.
She thought of all this while she was unbuttoning her blouse, and then folding it over the back of the desk chair. She reached behind her to unhook her bra, then tugged down the shoulder straps and set it aside as well. Through all of this Marjorie was blushing furiously, and averting her eyes from her father. Her skin was a light tan from the beach, except for her pale breasts, which while not large were quite pert. She briefly held her forearm over the small rose-colored nipples but had to tend to the side zipper of her jean-skirt; as she leaned over her breasts swung free. Marjorie's embarrassment at this point was extreme, but it was also contributing to the exquisite feeling of helplessness and submission she was experiencing. The same feeling she had in Larry's room watching Cindy Rawling's paddling, only much more so. The skirt fell around her ankles and she stepped out of it.
Now only her panties remained. As she put her fingers in the waistband, Marjorie gave her father a small imploring look, as if in hope he would relent and allow her to keep them on. It was almost a tradition; she had given him that look right at the end for as long as she could remember. It was no more successful this time than in the past. Mr. Brandt nodded impatiently, and Marjorie bent forward and tugged down her panties past her knees, breasts swaying slightly, and her embarrassment reached its peak. Here she was, 18 years old and about to enter college, taking down her panties in preparation for a spanking over her father's knee! She took them off completely, set them on the chair with the rest of her clothes, and stood naked at her father's side.
He made her stand there for about a minute while he scolded her on her behaviour. Marjorie felt the humiliation of her situation very keenly; she covered herself in front with her hands but it didn't change the totally helpless feeling that stripping had given her. As the reader knows, her predicament was intensely exciting for her. Then Mr. Brandt took his daughter's arm and guided her over his knee. Marjorie's full buttocks came into view, raised high over his right thigh. They were sharply defined by tan lines; their whiteness was in stark contrast to the suntan on Marjorie's back and legs. He noticed the goosebumps on her bottom and thighs.
Staring at the carpet, waiting for the first biting smack of the hairbrush, Marjorie's senses were filled by the feel of her father's trousers against her bare skin, and the night air cool against her buttocks and legs. She reached back to grasp a chair leg for support with her right hand as her father's arm brought the first stroke of the hairbrush down on her lower right buttock. Marjorie fought off the instinct to clench her buttocks tightly together; this only meant bruises later on. Each spank of the brush stung her like crazy, and the pain was building as her father gave the entire area its initial pinkening. But even though she felt the pain of the spanking as sharply as anyone else would, and was already crying, something inside her made her want to assist in her own punishment. And so she kept her legs parted slightly so that more of her bottom area would be available for spanking, and kept her bottom high as if to meet the hairbrush halfway. Her father, noticing only the crying, was satisfied that the punishment was having its intended effect.
After five minutes of constant smacks, the area defined by the tan lines was entirely reddened; the sting of the long hairbrushing was becoming too much for Marjorie. She wailed and pleaded and asked forgiveness and sobbed as he first covered one cheek, then the other with sharp, wrist-flicking snaps of the brush. She could see in the dresser mirror how red her bottom was becoming. Then came some smacks on the top of her thighs, and Marjorie howled with the pain, jumping up and nearly off her father's lap. He held her down with his strong left arm while he finished her spanking with 10 very hard smacks to each cheek, all on the fullest area just above the thigh. During these Marjorie gasped and struggled and cried louder than ever. And then it was all over. Her father held her over his lap until she calmed down to the point where she was crying softly, then helped her up. Marjorie stood there rubbing her bottom, still highly self- conscious but feeling very humble thanked him for the spanking and apologized for what she had done. Mr. Brandt hugged her and stroked her hair, and told her he was sorry to have to spank her. Then he left the room, and Marjorie fell on the bed in emotional as well as physical exhaustion. It wasn't long, though, before she got up to examine her bottom in the mirror, and she remembered and thought about her spanking well into the night.
It may be said by way of postscript that the "Willow Street Seven" were all spanked through their high school years, some more than others of course. And there is some good news and some bad news for the reader; the bad news first, that Carol's dad never did follow through on his frequent threat to take her panties down for her paddling. This naturally was not considered to be bad news by Carol.
The good news is that Marjorie and Larry stayed together. A few days after the spanking described above, Marjorie confessed the obvious to Larry while they walked along the river. Of course, Larry knew about Marjorie's interest in seeing Terri and her sister punished, and Marjorie knew about Larry's. Still, Larry thought it was curiosity on Marjorie's part about the strange goings-on across the block, and Marjorie thought Larry was interested by the bare female bottoms involved and not the spanking per se. They were both wrong, and after Marjorie told Larry about what happened to her when she got home that night after watching Cindy's paddling, Larry kissed her rather passionately, squeezed her hand and pressed her for details. They quickly found that the one wanted to tell the story as much as the other wanted to hear it. The two of them are enrolled at different colleges right now, but one or the other makes the drive over nearly every weekend, and at least twice each weekend Marjorie feels the familiar mixture of dread and anticipation before there is the waited-for knock on her door.