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| Image from girlsboardingschool.com |
I guess different kids respond to different kinds of discipline. For a long time, nothing but a spanking or the threat of one could get my little brother to behave. My big sister, the socialite of the family, had a horror of being grounded. My parents figured out early that the best ways to get my behavior under control were; 1) to make me stand in the corner, and 2) to put me in a punishment outfit. Without question, the most effective punishment for me growing up was being restricted to just panties and a tank top in the house and put in the corner for awhile. Still retaining some baby fat well into my teens, my behind was kind of on the large side, and I was really shy and super-modest about it; I hated having it "hanging out" in panties for all to see!
Intellectually, I knew I wasn't showing any more than when I went swimming, but emotionally, it was a different story. I felt so exposed in just my panties and a tank top, it was almost like being naked. Plus, when I was standing with my nose in the corner, I couldn't tell what people were doing or saying behind me, and it made me crazy and paranoid. Once, when I was 12, I was on "clothing restriction" (as my parents called it) for a whole weekend, and I spent a half hour twice each day in the living room corner. It was purely horrible. After that, when I started being a brat, all my parents had to say was, "Looks like somebody needs to spend some corner time in her punishment outfit," and I would straighten up in a heartbeat!
Of course, the worst thing about a clothing restriction day was that I wasn't allowed to hide in my room. Because my parents had discovered that embarrassment was the key to punishing me, I had to stay out in the common rooms of the house - the kitchen, the living room, etc. - even when someone from outside the family was in the house! The worst time was when I was 15 and my parents had guests over - I wanted to die! It was a Saturday, and I was on "clothing restriction" for cheating on a test at school (doubly dumb, it turned out, because the kid I cheated off of was actually a worse student than I was!). When I heard that our neighbors were coming over for a visit, I just begged my parents to let me stay in my room. No such luck.
Quite upset that one of her kids had been caught cheating, Mom put me in the worst punishment outfit of all: plain white panties and a matching tank top that was a size too small. I was a real "girly girl", and I was partial to pink and lavender matching bra and panty sets. Wearing plain white, ill-fitting underwear any time made me feel crummy; when I knew it was gonna be on display, it was an absolute horror to me! Plus, I wasn't allowed to wear shoes, and being a little "fashionista" with a lot of nice shoes, being barefoot for company bothered me almost as much as having them see my panties.
That morning, I crept red-faced into the kitchen for breakfast, not wanting to eat a thing. I forced myself to have some toast and orange juice, enduring mocking glances from my dear siblings (grrr...). Then it was morning corner time. I went to the living room corner and put my hands on my head as required. This made my small tank top ride up, embarrassing me even more.
The doorbell rang, and my face flared like raspberry jam. Oh my God, Mr. and Mrs. Jensen were here! My heart raced as I heard Mom open the door.
"Hi, hi, come on in!" I heard her say, and my face burned like I had a 104 degree fever! I couldn't turn around, because one of the rules was that if you talked or turned around when you were in the corner, you got spanked. The only thing I could imagine being actually worse than my current predicament was winding up over Mom or Dad's lap in front of company! But I guess I lacked imagination, because in just a few seconds things did get worse. Infinitely so.
"Uh-oh, looks like someone's been a naughty girl!" I heard a familiar voice say. It was Lance, the Jensens' 18-year-old son, the boy I'd had a crush on forever! OH MY GOD!!
I prayed for the floor to swallow me up, but no such miracle was in the offing. I heard my dad say,
"Yes, someone has. Little Miss Alyson is learning a lesson about academic honesty today."
My humiliation mingled with the anger that had been building in me for some time, and I surprised everyone including myself when I whirled around, dropping my hands instinctively to cover myself.
"God damn it, Dad!" I spat out as our our three guests stared at me. "Do you have to tell the whole frikkin' world?!"
There was a moment of stunned silence, then I heard,
"Alyson Jane Jennings!" It was my mother, and she had used my full name - never a good sign. "You know better than to talk to your father like that! Not to mention turning around when you're in the corner!"
"I shouldn't be out here like this!" I yelled. "Not in front of company!!"
And then every teenage girl's nightmare scenario materialized. It seemed to happen in nightmare fashion, too, in slow-motion. She strode over to me, resolutely saying, half to me and half to our guests,
"In this family, little girls who disrespect their parents, and misbehave while they're already being punished, get soundly spanked!"
"No, Mom, PLEASE!!" I begged, my anger giving way to fear and overwhelming embarrassment. She just grabbed me by the wrist, sat on the couch, and flipped me over her lap. I struggled (as you can well imagine!), and that just made her angrier. She swatted me several times on my panty-clad behind, and I squawked immediately from the pain. It had been quite awhile since I'd been spanked, and I'd forgotten how much it stings!
"Phil, could you get drinks for everyone?" my mom asked my dad as she continued spanking me. "It looks like I'm going to be busy for a few minutes."
"Please, Mom. I'm SORRY! Just take me to my room, PLEASE!!"
I begged as I'd never begged for anything in my life, but alas, it was not to be. She just continued raining down hard, stinging spanks on my butt, and I started kicking my bare feet and squirming, feeling absolutely ridiculous and juvenile. The Jensens - all three of them - sat down, mesmerized by the sight of a well-developed teenager bouncing over her mom's lap in her underwear like a five-year-old. My brother and sister came running, too, and soon it was standing room only for my spanking! I'm sure my brother was in 13-year-old-boy heaven, since he was the only member of the family still receiving spankings on a fairly regular basis.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"OWW!! AHH!!"
"I believe Evelyn has the right idea," I remember Mr. Jensen telling my father. (It seems quite weird that I can remember specific things that were said while enduring a public walloping over my panties, but I guess all my senses were heightened or something.) "If only more parents would do this when their kids disrespected them!"
SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!
"OWIE ... OH, PLEASE! AHH!!"
"If I'd spoken that way to my dad growing up, I wouldn't have sat comfortably for a week!" Mrs. Jensen added. Again, I remember it verbatim.
"I have a feeling Alyson's going to find herself in much the same predicament," my father replied with grim satisfaction. I couldn't believe they were talking about me like that! Hello, standing - well, flopping around - right here!!
I remember looking up in the midst of my considerable pain and shame to see Lance sitting right across from me, watching intently with a flush on his cheeks. It was so wrong. I wanted to die. The flush on my cheeks - all four of them - grew every second as my mom spanked on and on. I kicked my feet involuntarily and squirmed around, seeking relief from the onslaught that was nowhere in sight.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!!
"OWW! I'm SORRYYYYYY!!" I shrieked.
"Not as sorry as you will be!" answered my determined mother.
I really thought it couldn't get any worse, but I was mistaken. She stopped spanking me, and I felt a moment's relief, sure that at least now I'd be able to hide my face in the corner. Instead, I felt her hands take hold of the waistband of my panties, and it registered in my brain: SHE WAS ABOUT TO TAKE MY PANTIES DOWN!!
Well, I'm sure you can imagine my reaction. I kicked, I begged, I promised to be good, I shrieked that I was too old ... in short, I did and said everything you'd expect of a teenage girl when she's on the brink of a public bare-bottom spanking! It was all for nothing, though. Once my parents decided one of us kids had earned a punishment, nothing could deter them from carrying it out.
"You're getting spanked exactly where you need it, Missy," she said firmly. "Right on your bare little bottom!"
Well, there was nothing little about my bottom, but one firm yank on my panties and it was certainly bare!
Words can't really convey the exquisite humiliation I felt the moment my naked bottom sprang into view. Imagine one of your classmates in high school finding your diary and reading it out loud at school over the intercom, then increase it by a factor of ten. Even then it wouldn't really be comparable.
I could feel, I mean, really feel, every eye in the house glued to my big naked bottom, which by now had to be completely strawberry-colored. Although in retrospect I know this wasn't the case, it felt swollen to twice its normal size from being spanked so hard.
My mother reached over and opened a drawer next to the couch, and I still had enough awareness to realize she was going for the wooden hairbrush that she still used on my brother's butt occasionally. I shrieked, bucked and kicked in helpless frustration.
"NO! Not the BRUSH!" I yelled.
"Quiet!" she yelled back. As if I could be!
SWAT!! SWAT!! SWAT!! SWAT!!
Oh. My. God. The pain was, frankly, amazing. I'd never felt anything remotely like it; in fact I never did, not until I had my first child.
"OWWW!! AHHHH!!"
SWAT!! SWAT!! SWAT!! SWAT!!
I only know what I looked like because my little brother later gleefully informed me. I was flopping about desperately like a fish on dry land, kicking my legs with all my strength and pounding the air ineffectually with my fists. Probably the last rational thought that occurred in my pain-addled brain was that Lance would forever see me as a goofy little girl who had a temper tantrum and got her bare backside spanked in front of him.
When my mother aimed for the tops of my thighs, a much more sensitive zone, I went into some other head space. It was bizarre, not unlike the way I've felt sometimes when I've smoked a whole lot of pot. From what I've read, I understand it was my body/mind's defense mechanism kicking in, releasing endorphins to help me get through it. I really don't remember any details from then until I found myself back in the corner, sobbing with my bottom still bare and on fire. I know I've blocked a lot of it, but I know my rear end was still bare, because I remember looking down at my toes and seeing my panties around them.
After God knows how long, I was released from the corner and allowed to pull my panties up. I was made to apologize to my father and our guests, again, something I know because my sister told me, not because I actually remember doing it. As if they didn't have the time of their lives, watching me get it bare like that! The other choice morsel I got from Dana later was that when I was struggling against the fire of the hairbrush, my tight tank top rode up and partially revealed my breasts to the room. Thanks, Sis. (Grrr...)
So that was my experience. Dr. Lansbury, I know you think that writing about this was a salutary exercise; I'll let you know once I've fully processed it.
Yours,
Jill
Ouch ! What an encounter ! I had a similar encounter , I had already got a whipping earlier that day , but I guess my butt wasn't sore enough because me and one of my elder sibling had a row and I called her and I quote " a fat cow that needed milking everyday " . Well my mother was in the front room with my dads sisters and she came out at me like a bat out of hell and before I knew what happened she was whipping me with a belt and all I can remember to this day is wishing I could've just died before she got to me , cause when she was through I slept on my tummy for a week and then some. I think I was about 12 I should've known better , having a mother that NEVER had a problem tanning our bottoms and never cared where we were or who was there.
ReplyDeleteWow! Sounds awful. Still, that comment should have seen you in the corner afterwards with your spanked behind on display, a bar of soap in your mouth! ;)
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