I mentioned in my last entry that one of my pen-pals, brett, sent me the true story of his high-school encounter with his Daddy's paddle. He got into trouble with a girl named Rachel whom he had the hots for. Rachel did not see him spanked, but was there during his scolding in which he was told he would be spanked, and she saw his Dad holding the hard little paddle he would be using.
I'll let brett fill you in on the background. His stories are long, but full of wonderful detail, and I love them! When I asked if I could post, brett went above and beyond the call of duty and created a little web site for the back story, with a short summary up front for you impatient readers, and the original longer recounting behind the fold. He also included my original e-mail back to him that kicked off the fictional role-playing.
So please go to GotSpanked and read that, and then come back here for the rest!
(Here is backup copy of that page on my blog: Fireworks)
Hi Rache,
I really wish Katie hadn't told you what happened. I thought I could lie to you and tell you she's making the whole thing up. It would be her word against mine. She sometimes has it in for me. But I like you too much to lie to you. You're the coolest girl I've ever known. It tears me up to know I'm no longer cool enough to maybe be your boyfriend. Or regular boyfriend? What Katie told you is so... it's hard to even talk about it. I was so relieved when you and your Mom left, but now everything's messed up anyway. You know everything that happened as if you were actually there. Please don't tell anyone at school!
I'm totally shocked about what you said! I never, ever thought you would get hot thinking about spanking a boy. What you want to do to me is the most embarrassing thing I've ever heard! It's really, really hard for me to admit this to you, but what you said makes me hot too. If it just wasn't so humiliating. Everyone at school would laugh at me forever if they knew that Rachel Thomas pretends to be Brett Miller's Mom and punishes him with spankings. That she makes him strip bare and uses the same paddle his Daddy spanks him with.
Rache, I'm very scared and embarrassed to do what you asked me to do. I swore after the other night that I was never going to get spanked again. It's still a little sore when I sit down. I don't want you to see what my butt looks like. But like I said, you're the coolest girl I've ever known. I'd probably do most anything you asked me to do. If you wanted to be my Mom even.
brett
You better get your ass over to me, bretty, it's not really
about what you might or might not want. It's about ME wanting to paddle your
bare ass. So get it over here. You know I'm the editor of the school newspaper
this year, don't you?
Rache
Brett Miller was in a tizzy. It had been a week since my terrible day where I got suspended from school and got a spanking. Then something happened in History that had me reeling. As I explained before, that winter near the beginning of the school year, Rachel Thomas passed me a note in that same class. That was how we had started our friendship. Well, she passed me a second note the week after we got in trouble together setting off that explosion at school. This second note was the biggest shock of my life. Rache had things to say in that note. As I read it in class, I wanted to hide under my desk. I was terrified that someone sitting near me might glance over and read it. What if the teacher wanted to know what I was reading? Even a few words seen on that note could have embarrassed me to tears. I could have been the laughing stock of the entire school.
The first sentence of Rachel's note made my heart stop. She said she talked with my sister today. Really? Rachel said she was sorry to hear about my spanking. Gulp. I knew that Rachel already knew something about it because I was sorta forced into telling her my Dad sometimes uses a paddle on us, and she actually SAW that he had brought the paddle to my room just before she and her mother left that evening. I think Rache could tell I wasn't very comfortable the next morning when Mom took us downtown to see the Fire Marshal. I was hugely embarrassed just with the idea that Rache knew even that much about me getting spanked at my age. Reading that Rache was sorry to hear about it, I had no idea where her note was headed from there. My biggest worry was how much Katie told her. What I read almost made me wet my pants:
"She says you were bare as a baby, down in the living room, kicking and crying like a little girl over your Daddy’s knee."
After that I don't know how I even got through the rest of the note. How was I able to understand what I was reading? In that one sentence, Rachel stripped me of all my dignity, and I knew our relationship would never be the same. Not even close.
The note went on to confirm my worst fears. Katie had told her everything, even how Mom and Hannah sat in the living room and watched me screaming over my Daddy's knee. Rachel then tore my heart out saying she could never see me the same again. I had once been her cool friend, and now I was a little kid who got spanked bare naked by his parents.
Does that sound devastating enough? Well, it gets worse. Much, much worse, and with a bizarre turn I could never have imagined. Rachel assured me I no longer had a chance to be her boyfriend. I expected that, but what was so strange is that she had no intention of terminating our relationship. I wasn't someone who could be her boyfriend, I guess because I was now too much a baby to her but, and here's the really shocking part, she got aroused, in a way, when my sister described what had happened to me. It wasn't the usual kind of turn on with a boy. Rachel wanted to spank me HERSELF! She asked me to come to her house after school and to bring my Dad's paddle!!!
It was after school that same afternoon. I was in my bedroom. I had run right out of History class and made sure I steered clear of Rachel Thomas the rest of the school day. There was no way I could face her. I didn't want to see her on the bus home from school, so I skipped my last class, snuck off and walked all the way home. What I couldn't believe was that I was in my room, and I had my Dad's paddle. I had gone into my parents' room while Mom was in the kitchen, taken it off the shelf and then scurried back to my bedroom. It felt so strange, but it was unlikely anyone would miss the paddle. It was always on the top shelf, could barely be seen, and it never got taken down unless someone was going to be getting a spanking. That terrible thing did not happen very often. That's not to say I hadn't taken it down before myself. Sometimes when no one was around, I would get a funny feeling and want to hold it. It was scary to feel its potential but also kind of exciting. I was holding it that day, sitting on my bed in my room, and my feelings were like they had never been before.
In my hand the paddle was compact and so damned hard! I tapped my palm with it again to feel the sting. As before, it was scary and exciting, but now the fear was on another immediate level. The excitement was nothing vague or a feeling I could not put my finger on. I had a hard-on in my pants. I was aware of where I was sitting. My skin tingled from recent memory. It had only been a week since this same paddle, this smooth wood I was feeling in my hand, had imprinted its fiery message on me. I had just looked in the mirror in the bathroom to confirm that the marks from the paddling had almost completely faded. You had to look carefully to see just a faint discoloration of pale flesh. But it was there if someone wanted evidence that I had been given an old-fashioned spanking on my behind for my school suspension.
The reason I was so fearful and aroused holding that paddle was that I had taken it from my parents' room for Rachel. I did not really have a choice. Or what I should say is that it was the only choice I could make if I didn't want Rache to make good on her threats. In her note she had made it clear that after school I was going to bring her my Dad's paddle. She was going to pretend she was my Mom. She was going to spank to see if Katie's description of how I acted when getting spanked was accurate. The threat was that she would tell the kids at school how I was being raised at home. So you see, I really had no choice. I wanted bad to be cool with everyone at school, and Rachel Thomas had the power to strip me clean of any chance of that. I wasn't sure how I could even face Rachel now, but if anyone else at school found out about my spankings, I'd have to somehow get my parents to put me in another school.
I stuck the paddle in my backpack and, after telling Mom I was going to the public library to do homework, I walked out the front door to meet a fate I could not fathom. Rachel lived about 2 miles farther east from Balboa Middle School than I and not far off the main boulevard the school bus took. I had never been to her house. She had drawn a little map on the back of that terrible note. I simply put one foot in front of the other to keep myself headed in that direction. My head wanted to turn my body any way other than east. It's embarrassing to say, but it seemed my penis was in support of my feet. I was really thinking about Rache. I guess it's no secret I had a bit of a crush on her. I had noticed her in class the very first day of school. It wasn't a crush right off the bat like that. She was just pretty and the surfer girl type I liked. It was when she passed me that note and talked my ear off at lunch. She was assertive where I was shy. She could tell me seemingly anything, like she could trust me completely. She was older and more mature. I was actually in awe that she had chosen me more than any other boy at school to be her best friend. I think she knew she could wrap me around her finger, but she had never exploited that advantage in any big way. After what my sister told her, Rache was exploiting this situation and was taking no prisoners. Well, maybe one.
I was standing at the front door of the Thomas home. It was a small ranch-style across the street from a shady neighborhood park. My mind was being bombarded with a thousand possibilities, a thousand flying, biting things with wings to tease and taunt me. There was the squirmy awareness of Daddy's paddle in my backpack, as if its extra weight could make me heavy. There was the noise in the park, voices of strangers who I felt somehow knew why I was standing petrified at the door unable to bring myself to ring the bell. Was Mrs. Thomas still at work? Almost certainly, yes. Rachel and her mother lived alone. Rache would then have the house to herself. If I pushed the button to ring the buzzer, I would be under her roof. Under her roof, and she wanted to be my Mom that day. Rachel pretending to be my Mom, though she was going to spank me just like my Daddy did. That's what she said in the note she passed me. I was going to be her "really, really bad little boy." She promised to make me good. She said she would put a towel on her lap in case I had "an accident."
Maybe that was what scared me most of all. What would it be like to be over Rachel's knees in my birthday suit? What would she see? In what horrible ways might I humiliate myself? As my finger betrayed me by pushing the doorbell, I felt another stirring in my pants. The door opened.
"Well, you made it."
She asked me to come inside and the door was closed behind me.
At this point I told brett to stop and not send me the next part of the story because I wanted to role play Rachel and Brett with my david, and then write-up in story form what we did during role play. After I had finished mine, he and I would swap stories and see how close they were. We'll start with the story inspired (very closely I might add!) by my role playing scene with david. After that I'll show you brett's version of the fantasy. We were surprised that they were so close!
Julie's Version:
"Well, you made it." said Rachel Thomas to the timid Brett Miller standing in front of her. Rachel was dressed in tight white shorts and a loose white cotton shirt, accenting perfectly her beautiful toned legs and belly, her blonde sun-bleached hair, and her deep blue eyes.
“Did you bring what I asked you to?”
“yes…” stammered Brett, stepping into the house, closing the door behind him, and then reaching into his backpack and handing Rachel the small, flat, hard, hand-paddle his Daddy spanks him with.
“Mmmmm…” moaned Rachel as she took the paddle from Brett’s hand and admired it. “I’m really going to enjoy spanking you with this.” she said almost to herself. “When your Daddy spanks you,” asked Rachel, “are you really bare naked, in the living room, in front of your Mom and babysitter?”
“yes” said Brett, blushing furiously.
“And do you really cry like a baby girl?”
“no…” whined Brett.
“That’s not what I hear. I hear from your sister that you kick up your legs and cry like a baby girl getting her spanking. Well I intend on finding out for sure one way or the other…” stated Rachel.
Rachel led Brett into her living room and sprawled herself down onto her couch, smacking the paddle disconcertingly into her palm.
“Take off your shirt.” commanded Rachel.
Brett was resigned to his fate. He knew if he did not do as he was told, Rachel would make sure he was the laughing-stock of his school. A high-schooler, still spanked by his parents. And spanked bare botty until he bawled! He knew he could never live that down. He began unbuttoning his shirt, and then removed it.
“Pretty scrawny, aren’t you?” asked Rachel rhetorically. “Do the other boys make fun of you? Why don’t you do a little turn for me?”
Brett took a deep breath and turned slowly around in place, thoroughly objectified.
“Take you pants off now,” ordered Rachel.
Brett undid his shoes, and removed them and his socks. Then he unfastened his trousers and let them drop to his ankles. Rachel let out a laugh seeing Brett’s childish white cotton underpants. His mother did all his underwear shopping for him. Brett picked up and folded his pants neatly, and placed them in a tidy pile.
“Come here.” said Rachel. “Put your hands on your head.”
Brett did as he was told and approached Rachel. Rachel sat up a little and reached a bare foot out to the front of Brett’s underpants. She then rubbed him with her foot through the white cotton material. Brett went cross-eyed and his knees weakened as Rachel did that. He also developed a tremendous erection.
“Someone’s happy to see me,” teased Rachel. “Turn around and take your underpanties down, Brett. Nice and slowly. An inch at a time. And wiggle that little tush while you do it.”
Brett turned and did as he was told. Wiggling awkwardly and feeling completely ridiculed. Brett felt it acutely as the elastic at the back of his underpants slid down over his hips, over the top of his butt, exposing his crack to Rachel’s keen eyes, down over the crest of his buttocks, and finally dropping to his ankles.
Bare.
Spontaneously, Brett put his hands back on top of his head.
“Good boy,” said Rachel. “Come closer.” Brett took a step backwards towards Rachel. She then reached out her toe and slid it down Brett’s butt crack, lingering with her big toe impossibly near that most embarrassing and sensitive spot. “I am going to spank that little ass crimson, Bretty.”
Brett shuddered as he heard those words and felt Rachel Thomas’ foot sliding down his ass crack and pushing towards his asshole. He shuddered from fear, because he knew only too well what a crimsoning with that little paddle entailed. He shuddered from excitement as well. His penis engorged with blood and straining towards the ceiling as he felt Rachel’s humiliating caress.
“Now turn around, Brett. I want to see how naughty you are,” said Rachel.
Hands still on his head, Brett turned slowly to face Rachel.
“Oh My!” she said, seeing Brett’s straining erection. His penis was thin, but very hard and veiny, and its tip appeared painfully engorged with a bright red colour, matching his face. His little balls hugged his body closely, nestling up as if scared witless between his slender legs. Rachel had never seen a grown boy’s penis in this state, in the bright light of day, and so intimately. She reached out her foot and touched his tip and shaft. Brett moaned audibly.
“Don’t think this makes me your girlfriend,” clarified Rachel. “I could never be the girlfriend of a boy who gets spanked by his Mommy and Daddy at your age.” As Rachel said this she pushed her big toe gently into his balls.
“I want to see you play with it,” said Rachel all of a sudden, dropping her foot and sitting up straighter.
“no. I don’t do that,” lied Brett.
“That’s not what your sister says either. She says she hears you jerking it practically every night.”
Brett blushed anew. He did not know his sister was aware of his shameful nocturnal habit. And now Rachel, his big crush, knew as well!
Brett reached for his penis and began stroking it. Rachel sat, fascinated.
“Ohhhh… Ohhhhh…. Ohhhhh….” vocalized Brett as he rubbed.
“That’s disgusting! Stop that!” Said Rachel.
Brett let go of his dick. His entire body shook with sexual frustration.
“That’s so pathetic!” Said Rachel. “Is that what boys do, who don’t get any?”
Rachel stood and went into the adjoining dining room. “Come” she told Brett. Brett followed her leaving his pooled underpants where they lay. She pulled out a straight-backed, armless, dining room chair and faced it away from the table. She sat gracefully and motioned for Brett to stand to her right.
Rachel’s head was mere inches from Brett’s humiliatingly engorged penis. Rachel looked up at him, licked her lips, parting them invitingly, and asked “I bet you want me to kiss that, don’t you?”
“oh yes!” cried Brett.
“I would if I was your girlfriend,” answered Rachel. “Too bad for you I’m not. No, I’m the girl who’s going to put you across her knee, and spank you until you bawl like a baby. And not just this once, Brett. I’m going to spank you whenever I feel like it. And if you don’t get across my lap whenever, wherever, and in front of whomever I choose, well the whole school will know exactly how your Mommy and Daddy treat you at home.”
Brett was trapped. He knew there was no way out. He would have to submit to this girl, or risk losing what little self-esteem he yet possessed.
“Bend over my lap Brett. Pretend I’m you’re Mommy and I’m about to spank you.”
Brett awkwardly placed himself across Rachel Thomas’ lap. Rachel pulled Brett higher up her lap, tipping him over so his nose was inches from the wooden floor, and his feet were dangling. She reached one arm around his hips to steady him, and prepared to deliver her first ever spanking.
Meanwhile, Brett’s penis pushed into Rachel’s bare thighs. He was terrified that if Rachel so much as moved a muscle in her thighs, he would have a humiliating accident across her lap!
She raised the little paddle high and whacked it down low across Brett’s upturned bottom cheek. Brett let out a yell at the unexpected force of the first paddle stroke, and all thoughts of sexy ejaculations instantly departed, replaced by the agony of a full-force, no holds barred paddling!
Rachel’s ensuing paddle whacks were no lighter. In fact, as Rachel became more practiced the whacks only became harder. In some uncanny intuited mimicking of his father, Rachel never deviated her strokes from the exact same two spots his Daddy always spanked: low down at the base of his buttocks, right where he sat.
Despite his very best and determined efforts to the contrary, for Brett had set out to prove that he did not bawl like a girl when he was spanked (for he did not for a moment believe that Rachel was as capable a spanker as his Father), it did not take long to prove what a liar Brett was, and how trustworthy was his sister. For sure enough, before too long Brett was kicking out his legs, begging for Rachel to stop, and sobbing like a well-spanked girl! His spank spots were bright, bright red, threatening to bruise purple.
But Rachel was not finished. She was flushed with the excitement of so dominating a boy! She was not ready to stop. She threw her right leg over the backs of both of Brett’s while jackknifing him further across her left knee. She then renewed her efforts and turned his carmined skin purple, and did not stop until the center of his bruised spank spots turned pale white in the paddle’s punishing aftermath. By this time, Brett was incoherent with his sobbing and pleading, wetting the floor with his big wet tears and snot.
Finally satisfied, Rachel ceased her spanking, keeping the sobbing boy across her knee as he gradually calmed himself down.
“You do cry like a little girl when you’re spanked, Bretty.” Stated Rachel with the firm assurance only certain knowledge can bring.
“And what a show you put on!” Said Rachel as she played the edge of the paddle down his jackknifed butt crack, across his well-exposed anus, and wound up with patting his tiny testicles easily visible between his legs.
Brett moaned in shame at the humiliating revelation that he was so exposed during his spankings. This was the same view his Mother and his 18-year-old Babysitter both saw each time his Daddy spanked him! He had never fully realized it before.
Rachel told Brett to stand, which he did with some considerable pain and difficulty.
“Keep your hands at your sides,” ordered Rachel as Brett started trying to cover himself from her gaze.
“It’s really tiny now, Bretty,” commented Rachel. Brett’s flaccid penis was indeed tiny, all the sexiness having been spanked out of it long ago.
“I guess you’re a liar, Brett, aren’t you? You told me you didn’t cry like a little baby girl during your spankings when in fact you do. What have you got to say for yourself?”
“I… I… you’re right, Rachel!”
Say “I’m a big liar because I do cry like a girl when I get my spankings.”
Brett repeated the words, standing there shaking and nude, shrunken penis and testicles fully on show, tears still wetting his cheeks.
Taking him by the ear, Rachel marched him over to the living room and pushed his nose gently deep into the corner. “You stay there until I tell you otherwise.” Ordered Rachel. “Don’t you rub, or I’ll put you over my knee again today. I want to admire my handiwork for as long as possible!”
Rachel sat back down on the couch, and grabbed a Teen magazine. Her Mom would not be home for at least another hour and a half, affording her plenty of time to enjoy the fruits of her labours.
Ha Ha! Wasn't that fun???
I didn't paddle david quite as hard as I described in my story, though he did get a heck of a bum warmer from my wooden hairbrush! Other than that... pretty darned much what happened in our role play. Cool, huh?
Now here is brett's continuation of the same fantasy. read it and see how close it is to mine!
Brett's Version:
She asked me to come inside and the door was closed behind me.
"Is anyone else here?" I asked.
"Nope. Mom won't be home for a few hours. It's just you and me."
I noticed something different about Rache---when she told me to take off my silly backpack and to leave my sneakers at the door. Since she said to follow her into the living room where we had a short chat about usual stuff, but it's like we were not just friends anymore. We were not equals. When she smiled or laughed, it was not pleasure or humor we were sharing together. I was the object of the game she was playing. I was the joke.
"Did you bring what I asked you to bring?"
I nodded, my face hot.
"Give it to me."
I had to fish it out of my pack next to me on the sofa. That was so much harder to do than you can imagine. Taking my Dad's paddle out from where it had been hiding and bringing it out into the open where Rachel could clearly see the actual discipline tool used on me at home. I held it in my hands as if it was covered with sharp prickly thorns. My eyes were cast down in the direction of Rachel's sandals where she sat in a chair that was her throne.
"Bring it to me."
I got up and handed the terrible object to her, then retreated to sit back down. I never made eye contact with her, not once. Rachel looked at the wood carefully, almost sensually, her fingers lingering over its surfaces, exploring its contours, then tapping her palm with the Miller family spanking paddle.
"Is this for bad little boys, Brett?"
I had to look at her. There was an odd crooked smile on her face. Her eyes seemed to sparkle. I couldn't bring myself to answer such a question.
"What's wrong, are you embarrassed?" Rachel snickered. I had always loved her laugh, a little deep and throaty for a girl, but cute and sexy. There was nothing cute about it now from where I was sitting.
"Just 'cause I've got your Daddy's paddle? That he punishes you with?" She smiled again. "It should have some words printed on it. Like 'For Bratty Bretty's Bouncing Bare Behind'." Rachel laughed louder this time.
"It's not funny," I said, having to say something.
"Sorry, Brett, but a boy your age getting spanked bare by his parents is actually pretty funny. You did get it all smooth and bare, didn't you?"
All I could do was blush.
"Katie said it was bare. She said she made you show her your butt when you got naked out of the shower. Is that true?"
"I guess."
Rachel giggled while tapping the paddle against her palm. "She said you looked so funny all naked with your back-cheeks painted fire-engine red."
I was so embarrassed I felt dizzy, but another emotion was competing. I realized that Rachel was really enjoying my discomfort, and that made me afraid because I no longer knew the girl I thought I knew. There was no telling how cruel she could be.
"When we went downtown, you were squirming in your seat that day. I thought maybe your Dad swatted you like they do at some schools. Then Katie told me what really happened. I just couldn't believe it." She shook her pretty blonde head to show her disbelief.
"My sister likes to exaggerate things," I said.
"Does she? That's what I want to find out today."
"Find out what?"
"If you're such a big baby when you get punished."
"Why?" I said, trying not to sound as if I was pleading with Rachel.
She smiled at me. "Well, you see, Brett, it's something I've thought about before. It just really clicked for me when Katie described what she saw and heard. A boy getting a super embarrassing spanking. It gave me a nice tingle. I want to see the real thing, and to be the ruler of your little world."
I felt like I was trapped in an episode of the Twilight Zone, except this was much too weird for Rod Serling. The situation was also having an effect on me I never remember getting from the TV show. I had butterflies in my stomach, and my penis was getting stiff. The pretty girl who had been my comfortable friend had turned into a diabolical vixen. She looked so good that day, especially... dressed for around the house, in cut-off jeans and strapless sandals that left her smooth legs bare, and a tight tee-shirt that hugged small beasts and a slender frame. Golden hair fell loose over her narrow shoulders. Since I was a small child, my mind and body had assured me there was something about spanking that was exciting, no matter how much I hated it. I was sure nobody else on planet Earth had such faulty wiring. Here was hot Rachel Thomas, and she wanted to spank my bottom. I had my hands folded in my lap, praying she didn't see that the front of my pants was tenting.
"So we know what your Daddy does with this paddle," she continued. "What about your Mom, Brett? Do you get spanked by your Mommy too?"
"No," I said emphatically.
"Really? You better not lie to me, Bretty."
"I'm too big for that."
She laughed. "Too big for what? Lying to me?"
"No... too big for spanking... by my Mom."
"Are you? If I ever find you've lied to me about anything, you'll be sorry. I'll tell everyone at school what I know."
"No, please, Rachel. I'll be honest with you."
"Well, then let's have it."
"My Mom used to spank me. Not in a few years."
"Just a few years," she laughed. "I wish I'd seen it. A naughty boy spanked by his Mommy. So you're sure she wouldn't do it again?"
I shook my head. I was pretty sure. I really was too big for that, but it had not been so long before when I was not so big, when I had to deal with Mom's little plastic paddle. She spanked bare and, Wow, did that paddle sting!
"I think your Mom's going to spank you today."
The look Rachel gave me was no longer one of amusement. I had a good idea where she was going with this conversation, but I said, "What do you mean?"
"Did you forget what I wrote in the note I gave you?"
I said I wasn't sure, but I was sure.
"I said I was going to pretend I'm your Mom."
"Pretend?"
"Yeah, pretend...except you might as well just think I'm really your Mom today because it's going to be very real for you." She paused to let that sink in. "When your Mommy spanked you... a few years ago... did she spank really, really hard?"
"Why do you want to be my Mom?"
"'Cause I wanna punish you, silly boy."
"For what?"
"Do I need a reason?" Rachel laughed. She paused then continued. "I'm gonna punish you for getting me into trouble. I'm grounded thanks to you."
"But you gave me the match." I wanted to know what happened to my willing accomplice. My cool surfer girl.
"I gave it to you 'cause I knew you wanted to impress me."
"So how did I do then?"
"Not so good. You got spanked like a bad little boy."
I was confused. Not to mention highly embarrassed.
"You should have said, 'No Rache, keep the matches, I don't want to get you in trouble. That's what a mature boy would have done."
"That's not fair!"
"Don't start complaining now. You got me in trouble, and now you must pay."
"Okay. I'm sorry I got you in trouble, Rache. I really am."
"Bad little boys always tell Mommy they're sorry when they know they're getting a spanking."
Rachel tapped the paddle against her thigh. My face must have been scarlet. "I think we've talked long enough. Take your clothes off."
"Please, Rache. Don't do this," I begged. I couldn't be naked right there in front of her. I just couldn't!
"You have to do as I tell you. I get to see you naked like Hannah did."
"I can't!"
"Brett," she said my name and then paused to make sure I was listening. "Don't make me angry, young man. You'd better do everything exactly as Mommy tells you, or you are gonna be so sorry. Get those clothes off, or I'm getting the phone. I'll start by calling Tracy and telling her what I saw when me and Brett got suspended last week. She knows I was at your house all day. Do you want her to know about the spanking you got? How I saw you kicking and screaming naked over your Daddy's knee?"
I started by taking my socks off, as slowly as I could.
"This isn't a strip-tease. Get everything off. Now!"
I pulled my shirt off over my head. I unbuttoned my pants and pulled the zipper down. I felt utterly humiliated. So many of my fantasies had included having sex with my wished-for new girlfriend, Rachel Thomas. I had masturbated feverishly, imagining our naked bodies together. I'd never had sex with a girl, but I could at least make it up in my mind, and being naked for sex was not so scary or embarrassing. I could not have foreseen how mortifying it would be to have to strip naked for a girl under these ridiculously bizarre circumstances. I stood like a stripper performing for Rachel, pushing my pants down and letting them drop. I was in my underpants. "Please, Rachel, can't I keep these on?"
"Is that how your Daddy spanks you?"
"Rache, please!"
"Get them down. Bare as a baby. Do I need to call Tracy?"
"No."
"Maybe she'd like to come over and watch me paddle you."
Rachel had me over a barrel. I couldn't let her see my front, so I quickly turned away and dropped my underpants.
"Oh, how sweet!" she said. "Are you showing me your naughty little behind?"
"Rache, please stop!"
"Turn around."
I told her, "No."
Rachel let out a sigh of exasperation. "Did you dare say no to me!"
I surrendered and turned around. Some switch inside me had clicked. I was going to obey Rachel no matter what. I honestly felt I had no other option.
"Hands at your sides."
I obeyed. Rachel giggled.
"On my, look what we have here." She pointed at what was pointing at my stomach. "What's that, Bretty?"
I was in such misery, I could say nothing. I studied the carpet at my feet, trying not to see Rachel or my erection.
"I've never seen this much of a boy," she chuckled. "My curly, fuzzy little man is getting all grown up."
I tried to will my penis to go down, but it refused to cooperate.
"I bet you wish so bad right now I was your girlfriend. I win that bet, right, Brett?"
I nodded. It was true. Frozen in place, I gritted my teeth.
"And you know it's not gonna happen. You're not my boyfriend. You're my little boy."
Rachel got up from her chair and left the room. She came back with a white, fluffy towel that she draped over her lap after having returned to her seat.
"Do you know what this is for?"
I moaned a little in agony.
"This is for little boys who have naughty, embarrassing accidents. I really hope you won't be so pathetic, but I need to be prepared just in case.
"Let's go." She tapped her lap with the Daddy paddle. "Over Mommy's knee. Put your hard little thing on this towel."
That is what I did. I put my hard thing on that soft towel and surrendered over the punishment platform formed by Rachel's lap. I put the palms of my hands flat on the carpet. The embarrassment felt was so strong it actually competed with my cock for my attention.
"Forward a little more," she directed, her right arm under my legs guiding me until my toes were off the floor. The friction of the move set me on the brink of having that accident, and I was so aware of being totally naked and helpless. The thought that sobered me right up was about kids at school I knew and what they'd think if they saw me. I was in the most humiliating position possible, turned over the knee of a girl classmate as if she was my strict, old-fashioned parent.
Again my attention turned to the underside of my hardness where it was pressed firmly with all my weight into the towel on Rachel's warm lap. It was only the night before that I was naked on my bed, on my bare stomach, grinding myself into the mattress as I thought about this girl over whose lap I was now dangling. What abject irony. Without that towel, I would have been skin-to-skin on creamy smooth, bare legs, and Rachel was a smart girl to think to cover herself. I would have made a mess of it immediately. On the towel I at least had a small bare chance. I tried remembering the top ten batting averages in the National League while Rache was checking out my butt.
She made appreciative sounds, presumably not because I had such a cute, tight behind. "Well, looky here," she cooed. "It really did happen. I can still see where your Dad punished you."
I felt her fingers on my skin, tracing the areas in the centers of the cheeks where there was still some very faint discoloration. My heart was beating fast.
"Is this where your Daddy spanked you, Brett?"
"Yes." I was breathing heavier.
"Was this bare bottom all hot and sore?" She raked her short fingernails over the skin.
"Yes."
"Tell me who your Mommy is today."
"You."
"Tell Momma what happens to bad little boys."
"They get a spanking, Ma'am."
Rachel giggled. The words had come out of my mouth, but I'm sure it was my penis doing the talking. The stiffy pressed into that towel on her lap thought I was a bad boy and that pretty Rachel Thomas was a foxy hot Momma.
"I see you know who's boss around here," she said. "Where do bad boys get their spankings?" she asked, now back to tapping my upturned, clenching cheeks with the paddle as if to help me with my answer.
"On their bottoms." I spoke the words softly just in case anyone, anywhere, might overhear me."
"On their BARE bottoms, little Bretty. Mommy's gonna paddle your bare."
With that firm declaration, I had my accident on the towel. Squirming and moaning and groaning, I had the experience of explosive pleasure mixed with the deepest shame.
"Oh, you bad, bad little boy." Rachel set right to work---paddling my bare. Ignoring the circumstances, she simply gave me the spanking she had promised me. My pleasure was snatched away, and what I learned very quickly is that it did not matter if the paddle was being administered by a man like my father or by a teen girl who might not have weighed a hundred pounds. The thin hard paddle was an accommodating weight for even a girl to use, and I don't think my father used all his strength to spank us kids to tears. Rachel snapped the little board down hard again and again, each lick a sting like molten fire. She spanked right where I'd gotten punished one week before, and I now swore those spots were still raw and tender.
The part of me that could still think about anything other than the spanking I was getting was in complete shock over what Rachel Thomas had become. My cool, funny surfer girl was now a girl possessed---possessed by a devil that lived to make boys suffer. I was sure she had been making boys suffer since about the time she hit puberty, the kind of suffering that girls like her cause because boys want them badly. This was a very different kind of torture. Rache knew how to spank---really spank---to discipline spank so that the boy getting that spanking would never dare underestimate her power. Daddy's paddle in Rachel's hand was my new worst enemy. New boss, same as the old boss.
I wanted so bad to take my punishment with dignity. For months my most important goal in life had been to impress Rachel Thomas that I was worthy to be her boyfriend. I was going to be in a rock band and the coolest boy she knew. To say I failed at it that day at Rachel's house would be the biggest understatement in the history of mankind. It would be like saying the passengers on the Titanic got a little wet and chilly. To say I was not very tough would be like saying butter isn't steel. Over Rachel's lap, as she briskly sizzled my lower behind again and again with flat hard wood, I quickly lost it completely. My poor naked buns were being burned with a licking, and Rachel was getting the full spectacle she could only til then have imagined. I only hope all the people in the park across the street didn't hear. I was hollering and carrying on like a five-year-old girl who had burned herself on the stove. The amazing thing is that I managed to stay across Rachel's lap. It was just like at home where I kicked like a swimmer and bucked as if I were riding a wild stallion, however, my body possessed some internal mechanism that forced it to submit to my punishment until my disciplinarian was finished. All I could do was throw a bare naked tantrum over Rachel's knee, wiggling wildly where my teen boy fanny was being set on fire. I was begging and pleading with Rachel to spare me, promising her I was the most sorry boy in the whole universe.
This was my worst nightmare. Since I was small, even the mention of the word spanking and I was embarrassed. Mom would sometimes talk to other mothers about how spanking was used in the Miller household, and even with their kids around to hear it. I always wanted to run from the room, hating that anyone else might picture me getting spanked. To be naked over Rachel's lap, kicking and crying from the paddle was the ultimate humiliation I had feared, and yet I was unable to control myself to spare myself that humiliation. That was just how Rachel wanted it, and when she had me performing for her, instead of letting me off the hook, she increased the tempo of the paddling to make certain she got my full performance. Her power over me was overwhelming and, over her knee that day, she owned me.
Do teenage boys cry when they get spanked? This one did. It was not just a few impassive tears forced from my eyes. It was the full out bawling of a wretched infant. Do teenage boys kick their feet when they get spanked? This one did. It was as if my feet were getting the punishment the way they so frantically complained. Rachel's answer was to continue with the paddle spanking, though she did stop before actually taking the skin off my behind. When all was said and done, she had conquered me with nothing more than a child's punishment. How could I be so utterly defeated by a spanking? Was I so weak I could not take a stinging behind without making such a fuss, without promising Mommy the world? But that was the reality. I was Rachel's bad little boy who was going to be good...
Well there you have it, the whole darned thing recorded on my blog for posterity! Thank you very much, brett, that was fun!
What do you guys think? Did you enjoy that?
