On Top

Image from thespankingdiary.com

(Author's Note: After reading an account of a rather epic spanking I received from my partner, a reader who knows we switch asked me to narrate a typical punishment scenario in which I'm on top. It's a pleasure to do so.)

*     *     *

First, I announce that she's going to be punished and why, and send her to change into her punishment (drop seat) pajamas. This is an effective way to start, because she hates coming out into the living room wearing those things, even though it's just the two of us. Although she's still wearing panties at this point, the flap must always be down -- it's the reason we got them, after all!

Usually I just point to the corner next to the TV; she puts her nose in the corner and her hands on her head. (She's usually still grumbling a little at this early stage, but I ignore it.) After ten minutes, I call her out and have her stand in front of me, her hands still on her head. I ask her what she's being punished for, and once I get a confession, I tell her why the behavior is unacceptable and how disappointed I am. This unfailingly brings a bright blush to her cheeks and tells me I have her full attention.

She goes over my lap, and I start spanking her over her panties. Once I've built up a good flush, I tell her to stand and take off her pajamas. Although she knows it's futile, she always begs me to let her keep them on. I just wait and stare at her. With a sigh, she finally surrenders and takes off the pjs; now she stands self-consciously before me in just her bra and panties.

Back over my lap she goes, and I peel her panties down to mid-thigh. Then I set to work, peppering her bare bottom and the tops of her thighs with sharp, hard swats. She tends to wiggle and squirm, kicking her bare feet and reaching around to protect her burning backside. I catch her right hand in my left and pin it to her back, and wait a moment to let her catch her breath. Then I pick up my wooden hairbrush, and start spanking con brio. She becomes very vocal at this point, and it takes a bit of effort to hold her in place as she flops around on my lap, trying to avoid the brush. I cover the entire spankable area, and I keep it up until she she's positively caterwauling.

As I want her to sting a lot, but bruise not at all, I soon slow my pace. I concentrate light, sharp, stinging swats of the brush all over the sensitive junction of her bottom and thigh until I'm sure she won't be sitting comfortably for a few days. Then I put down the brush and let her cry, rubbing her back and her sore bottom.

When she gets herself back under control somewhat, I ask, "Are we going to have to revisit this issue, young lady?" She swears by all that's holy that we won't, and I "seal" the promise with two stunning hand claps across her backside. This results in more sobbing, at which point I unhook her bra and remove it along with her panties. "Corner," I tell her.

Naked and sore, she stands up and walks stiffly to the corner. Without being told, she puts her hands back on her head. Over the next ten minutes, I enjoy the sight of her hot pink backside, and make occasional comments about what a well-punished girl she is, and how her bottom is most beautiful when it's that color.

After ten minutes, I call her out of the corner and sit her on my lap. I hold her tight, letting her feel her nakedness against my clothes. I tell her how much I love her and that she's forgiven. After several minutes of cuddling like that, I turn on the TV and we watch something together. We have a tradition in which she asks for permission at this point to put her pajamas back on. I always answer, "No, you may not put any clothes on, silly girl, you know you need to be naked." She smiles contentedly and throws her arms around my neck. I pull a blanket over her, and soon she falls asleep in my arms.


© Aunt Carla

Role Reversal, Part Two

[Our story began here: http://auntcarlascorner.blogspot.com/2013/07/role-reversal.html]

"But...I meant another time, when...when we have some privacy. Bob's here, isn't he?" Jenni asked apprehensively.

"And your point?"

"Um... I just... Oh, no!" Jenni's face acquired a red glow. "If he heard me getting spanked, I'd just die!"

"No, you wouldn't. In fact, it would make him very happy, since he's the one who suggested it."

Jenni's jaw dropped. "Bob?"

"Yes. He hated seeing the two of us fighting all the time, and he suggested that we agree to a spanking plan instead. Now, don't make me repeat myself again, or I'll have you do your corner time in the living room."

Jenni blushed a brighter red, and hurried to drape herself over her daughter's lap.

"Wait...let's have that skirt off first. It's real nice, and I'd hate to mess it up," Chloe said .

"Oh..." Jenni froze, unable to move.

"All right; off to the living room we go, then." Chloe stood up.

"No! Please! I'll...I'll be good." Jenni quickly divested herself of her skirt and hung it over her chair.

"That's better. Take off your shoes, too. You're gonna kick a lot, and I don't want one of them to go flying and break something."

Jenni obediently stepped out of her shoes. Blushing deeply in just her blouse and white panties, she looked more like a naughty little girl than a forty-something woman. She awkwardly laid herself across her daughter's lap.

Chloe smiled and patted her mother’s ample bottom. "Yep, this is gonna be a pleasure," she said. "So tell me, why are you being spanked, young lady?"

Jenni winced. It was exactly the phrase she'd used when she’d put Chloe over her knee, and she literally groaned in embarrassment at the turnaround. With her husband gone two years now, she'd quite forgotten how humbling it was to be in this position. Having her own daughter ask her why she was being punished made the humiliation exquisite.

"Because I...I've been irresponsible," she said in a quiet voice.

"Yes, you have." Chloe rested her hand on her mother's shapely bottom. "You've left your bedroom a mess, made a wreck of your bathroom, and just generally behaved more like a kid than a responsible adult. I expect more of you. Give me your hand."

Jenni groaned again. This, too had been part of her spanking ritual with her daughter. She would always take Chloe's right hand in her left and pin it to her back so the girl wouldn't be able to reach back and protect her backside. Now the tables were turned.

Without further preamble, the younger woman brought her palm down hard on her mom's panty-clad behind.

"Ow!" Clearly, she'd also forgotten how much spankings stung! Chloe swatted Jenni's tail over and over while she kicked and squirmed. The heat in her behind quickly rose, and despite her best efforts to keep quiet, she soon became more and more vocal.

Chloe lectured while she spanked. "A grown woman, acting like an irresponsible teenager!"

"Ow! I'm sorry!"

"You're gonna be."

When Chloe grabbed the waistband of her mother’s panties, Jenni became panicked, desperate.

"No, please!” she pleaded, but to no avail.

"I'm not gonna waste my time spanking your panties," Chloe said. "You're getting this spanking where you need it: right on your bare bottom!"

With that, she yanked the panties down to the woman's thighs, revealing a hot-pink, well-toned rear end. Jenni gasped as she felt the cool air on her hot bottom.

"Well, that's a nice shade of pink, if I do say so myself," Chloe chuckled. "But I'm going for something a little closer to strawberry red."

"Oh!!" Jenni cried, thoroughly embarrassed. All the phrases she'd used years ago when disciplining her daughter were coming back to haunt her tonight.

SMACK!

"AHH! OWW!!" she shrieked. Chloe had picked up her hairbrush, and the pain was unbearable. Over and over the hard wood made stinging contact with Jenni's poor red backside. She howled, no longer concerned with who could hear her. All her attention was focused the steadily-rising heat in her hindquarters. She kicked wildly; if Chloe hadn't had the foresight to make her remove her shoes, they surely would have gone flying across the room.

"OWWW!! AHHHHH!!"

Tears started to flow freely, and she pounded the air ineffectually with her fists.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"OWWWW!!"

Chloe was breathing heavily. She realized that her mother's bottom was reaching the target hue, and she slowed her swing. When she finally stopped, she was rather proud of the results of her first-ever spanking; Jenni was a uniform red from the crown of her butt to the tops of her thighs. She put down the brush and released her mother's hand, which automatically flew back to her outraged bottom.

"AHHHH!!"

Jenni had been over her daughter's knee for only about three minutes, but if felt much longer to her. Chloe was a far more thorough spanker than her dad had been! She lay over her lap crying, still kicking as if to force some of the sting away.

Chloe felt quite satisfied and relieved. Such was the genius of spanking, she thought; it both taught a lesson and relieved stress.

"Okay, time to stand up," she said, patting her mother's bright red backside. Jenni stood stiffly and rubbed her bottom vigorously.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" she cried, throwing her arms around Chloe's neck.

"That's alright," said Chloe, patting her mother's back gently. "You misbehaved, and you got spanked for it. All is forgiven." She pulled back and took Jenni's chin in one hand. "But the minute you slip up, you can count on going right back over my lap, do you understand?"

"Y-Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Jenni exclaimed automatically.

"Good girl. Now off to the corner with you. Hands on your head, and don't move until I tell you to."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jenni walked stiffly to the corner of the den. She put her nose against the wall and her hands on her head, just as she had made Chloe do so many times over the years. Her panties were around her ankles and her rear end shone bright-red. Chloe kept her there for fifteen minutes while she worked on the household bills, looking up frequently to enjoy the fruits of her labors. No question about it: things had irrevocably changed between her mother and her. Chloe thought it was a definitely a change for the better.

Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla

All rights reserved

Role Reversal

Image from CountrySpanker.com

[See their fine blog here: http://countryspanker.blogspot.com]

The effects of the economic downturn hadn't been all bad. While only a fool would say that a lack of job security and disposable income were good things per se, circumstances had forced families to pull together. As a result, two or three generations were often living under the same roof, just as in the old days.

Bob and Chloe Anders were young professionals in the lucrative field of Information Technology. With a little help from their parents, they had managed to put a down payment on a new house in the suburbs at the age of only only 28. But then Bob was suddenly laid off; their income was cut in half, and they worried about being able to make the monthly payments.

At the same time, Chloe's mother Jenni was living alone in a condo about ten minutes away, and her job had been reduced to a part-time position. She too was struggling. They talked about the situation one Saturday afternoon at the local Starbucks.

"You know, Mom," said Chloe as she sipped her latte, "we've got a guest room that's just sitting empty. If you moved in, we could help each other out."

"Oh, I don't know, Honey," said Jenni. "I know you two need your privacy."

"Nonsense! We don't have kids, and we've got the master bedroom and bath. You'd have your own bathroom; we hardly ever use it. It just doesn't make sense for all of us to struggle when we could pull together."

"What about Bob?" Jenni asked. "Does he approve of the idea?"

"Are you kidding? He's crazy about you, Mom. And he's scared to death of losing the house. You'd be helping us big-time."

"Well, let's do it, then! I could rent the condo to bring in extra money. We'll be able to make the house payments easily."

After they'd conferred with Bob, it was settled. Jenni put the condo up for rent and had soon moved in with her daughter and son-in-law.

What both Jenni and Chloe had forgotten, however, was how much they'd grated on each other's nerves during Chloe's last two years living at home. They'd gotten along quite well in the intervening years; the distance was the best thing that had ever happened to their relationship. After just a few weeks under the same roof, however, they started getting under each other's skin again.

*     *     *

"Mom!" Chloe called irritably from the kitchen one morning.

"Yes, Honey?" She was upstairs getting dressed for work.

"Did you leave the coffee maker on all night?"

"Doesn't it turn off by itself?"

Chloe rubbed her forehead, sighing as she inspected the burned-on scum at the bottom of the coffee pot.

"No, it doesn't. Would you come down here, please?"

Jenni came downstairs and smelled the burned coffee. "Oh, Lord! I thought they all turned off automatically these days."

"Well, this one doesn't. Look!" Chloe held up the pot for her mom to see. "This thing is toast," she said. "We're gonna have to buy a new one."

"Well, you might have told me," Jenni said, matching her daughter's angry tone.

"You might have just turned it off, since you used it last!"

"All right, I'll pick one up today after work," Jenni snapped.

Chloe sighed. "I seem to remember being spanked once or twice for this kind of irresponsibility when I was growing up," she grumbled.

"Well, that was different, dear. You were young, and you needed to learn."

"Well, apparently you need to learn, too, Mom! Just do me a favor, and be careful with the appliances. You know I'm scared to death of fire."

"Fine," Jenni said coolly, and left the house in a foul mood.

Things escalated from there. It seemed to Chloe that she had to constantly stay after her mother to pick up after herself and just act like a responsible adult. They had definitely switched roles. One evening, when Jenni was at her book club meeting, Bob and Chloe talked over dinner.

"She drives me crazy!" Chloe groused. "She acts like a kid, no sense of responsibility!"

"It's a less-than-ideal situation," Bob conceded. "I hate seeing the two of you going at each other like this."

"Did you see her bathroom today? It was a total wreck! And she left her bed unmade, like she expects me to be her maid or something."

"You two really need to have this out, come up with a solution. Otherwise, things are just gonna deteriorate further." Bob sipped his Merlot and looked at his wife intently.

"It would give me a world of satisfaction to turn her over my knee and give her a dose of the hairbrush, just like she used to do when I acted up."

"Maybe you should," Bob said quietly.

"Huh? You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, how she keeps her bedroom and bath are her business. But I don't like seeing you pulling your hair out day after day. You two should come up with a discipline plan, just like the one between the two of us." Chloe blushed. Before marrying Bob, she'd been quite irresponsible and messy herself. It was his loving discipline that had helped her get over her bad habits.

"You think it would work?"

"It worked on you, didn't it?" Bob chuckled. "Like daughter, like mother, I suppose."

Chloe smiled. "You might be onto something. I'll talk to her."

"Good. I want my happy wife back."

That night, when Jenni came home from her meeting, Chloe asked if she could see her in private.

"Of course. What's up?" the older woman asked.

"Let's go into the den," Chloe suggested.

"Hmm... a private meeting in the den... should I be worried?"

"No, I just need to talk to you alone." Jenni followed her daughter into the den, and Chloe closed the door behind them.

"Sit down, Mom."

Jenni surprised her by doing as she was told.

"Mom, I hate the way things have gotten between us," she said.

"Me too."

"I have a radical suggestion," Chloe said. Jenni looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Bob and I fought a lot our first year together. I'll bet you didn't know that."

Jenni was genuinely surprised. "No, I didn't. You two always seemed to get along just fine."

"Well, that's because we came up with a solution." Chloe pulled a piece of paper out of the drawer in the roll top desk and handed it to her mother.

"An 'Adult Discipline Plan?' You've got to be kidding!" Jenni smiled, sure her daughter was putting her on.

"No, it's no joke. It's what helped keep the two of us stay together, in fact."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Honey," Jenni said. "Your father and I had one of these agreements when you were growing up!"

"No way! Dad spanked you?" Chloe was flabbergasted. Her dad was the most gentlemanly man she'd ever met; he'd never spanked her once while she was growing up.

"Yes, he did, and it worked quite well. He let me handle the discipline with you, but he always called me on it when I failed to live up to our agreements. There were plenty of times when I had a hard time sitting comfortably."

"Well, I hate the fact that I'm always yelling at you and giving you a hard time, but but since you moved in, it feels like you're the irresponsible teenager and I'm the grown-up!"

"You're right, honey. Truth is, I've been a mess since your dad died." Jenni's eyes glistened. "He loved me enough to keep me in line, but now he's gone, and I feel... out of control. I guess I just don't function well unless there's someone around to turn me over their knee when I need it," she said.

"Well, I love you, and there've been plenty of times lately when nothing would have made me happier than to give you a good dose of the hairbrush," Chloe said with a smile.

"I know I can be a pain to live with. Your dad was a saint."

"Yeah, he was, but it's not like you're bad-tempered or anything like that. You just seem so... irresponsible these days."

"Yeah, I suppose I am." She grinned. "Wanna help your mom get over herself?"

"It would be a pleasure," Chloe said, patting her lap. "Over my knee, Mom."


{End Part One}

© Aunt Carla

The Worst Part of Detention

Image from regulationknickers.com

The worst part of after-school detention at St. Mark’s Academy for Girls isn’t the inevitable bare-bottom, over-the-knee spankings.

It isn’t the humiliating outfits (bottle-green panties and tee shirts that read, “In Detention” front and back).

It isn’t the juvenile corner time, served on three-foot-high pedestals. Hands on head and panties around the ankles, hot pink bottom on display.

It isn’t placing those hot, stinging backsides on hard wooden chairs and writing a mind-numbing (and hand-cramping) number of lines.

It’s not even the leather paddle used on rare repeat offenders.

No, the worst part is surely the layout of the classroom in which detention is held. On the ground floor, with windows that throw the entire room open to public view. Windows that are left open in fair weather, making the punishments even more shamefully public.

Girls often stop by to ogle their misbehaving classmates after school, frequently with their boyfriends in tow. The open windows (and audible comments from the observers) ensure a most humiliating time for any girl serving detention.

St. Mark’s Academy has fewer behavior problems than any other school in the county.

Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla

All rights reserved

Sunday Night Spanking

Image from JPC World

Alexa kneels in the corner, her hands on her head. She wears nothing but her underwear, and her white panties have been pulled up, wedgie-style, to reveal a hot-pink, well-spanked bottom.

She has been in this humbling position for ten minutes, and will remain so for another ten.

What offense has landed her in this penitent's pose? Disobedience? Disrespect? A bad attitude, perhaps?

No, it's none of these. It just happens to be 7:00 pm on Sunday. The appointed time when--for the past year--Laurel has commanded her to strip to her underwear for her maintenance spanking. A weekly humility check and a reminder of who's in charge.

If it's been a weekly event for so long, why is the pretty 20-year-old brunette blushing so furiously? Isn't she more or less used to this ritual by now?

Why yes, yes she is. What she's definitely not accustomed to is having an audience for the event.  

The doorbell rang while she was removing her clothes. It was her sister and brother-in-law, dropping in for an impromptu visit. Laurel, a stickler for the schedule and well-versed in politesse, invited them in as an astonished Alexa stood revealed in jeans and a bra.

Is this a bad time?

Not at all! Oh, don't mind Alexa; she's just stripping down for her Sunday night spanking.

[Did anyone tell you to stop, young lady?]

Come in, both of you. May I offer you something to drink?

A delighted smile from big sister Cyndi, who always thought Alexa got off easy in the spankings department while they were growing up. From her husband Ari, a bemused nod and smile. He has long suspected that Laurel was the undisputed ruler of this house; he just didn't know that her reign manifested in such an interesting way. He feels as if he's walked bodily into one of his own private fantasies.

Baby, please! Not with them here!

Nonsense. Cyndi's seen you quite bare countless times, and Ari's seen you in your bikini.

But...they've never seen me...

(her voice dropping to a whisper)

...disciplined!

Unless you want this maintenance spanking to turn into a discipline spanking, young lady, you'll take off those jeans and get over my knee right now.

And so it is that Alexa is stretched out in a most humiliating manner over Laurel's lap...not five feet away from where her delighted audience sits ready for the show. Feels her face flare as her white panties are yanked upwards and into the crack in her behind. Endures five minutes of steady spanking from her highly-capable disciplinarian. Makes a spectacle of herself over Laurel's knee.

* * *

Alexa kneels in the corner, her hands on her head. The secret she has been keen to keep for the past year has been revealed. Both her knees and her butt are dreadfully sore. With ten minutes more to go, she feels Cyndi's and Ari's eyes on her bright-pink bare behind. She can't wait for them to leave.

She's never been so turned on in her life.

Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla

All rights reserved

The Hazards of Smoking

Part One

Image from domesticdiscipline.com

It was a chilly November morning. The students of St. Luke's Academy for Girls stood outside the building, blowing on their hands and huddling together for warmth while they waited for the bell to ring. 

Two of the girls had crept off by themselves away from the throng, hoping to stay out of sight. 15-year-old Alicia Poundstone, a slim, pretty brunette, fished inside her coat for the two cigarettes she had liberated from her mother's pack that morning. 

"You don't think she'll notice, then?" asked her best friend Gracie, a slightly chubby but very comely blonde lass. 

"Oh, bugger it if she did! She'll think it was my brother, and it won't it be a lark to see him thrashed for something he didn't do!" 

Alicia wasn't a cruel girl, but her younger brother Robert had been a nuisance lately, and he had gotten away with stealing cigarettes before. She handed one of the purloined items to her friend, took out a book of matches, and surreptitiously lit it for her. Gracie, inhaling for the first time, coughed a bit. Alicia laughed. 

"I thought you said you'd smoked before!" she teased. 

"I have! I just never, well, you know, inhaled." 

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Gracie, you're such a goody-goody!" 

"Am not! Take that back!" her friend demanded in mock indignation. Alicia just grinned and lit up, enjoying a long, deep drag. 

"Ah, that's the stuff," she said, giddy at the thought of getting away with tasting forbidden fruit. Gracie tried again, and did better this time. It tasted awful, but it was a thrill. 

"You girls!" a voice shouted. "Over here at once!" 

The girls instinctively dropped the cigarettes and crushed them out under their shoes. "Yes, Ma'am?" Alicia said innocently as Mrs. Stanton, the schoolyard monitor, shot daggers at her. 

"Don't 'Yes, Ma'am' me, young lady! I saw what you two were up to. It's a visit to the Headmistress's office for both of you!" 

Both girls felt their tummies flip at the news. Headmistress Andersen was notoriously strict about what she called "substance abuse" among her girls, and smoking definitely fell under that category for her. Mrs. Stanton stood resolute, beckoning the girls over.

"Damn that cow!" Alicia hissed under her breath. "We're for it now!" 

Gracie felt a tear form in her eye. Less adventurous than her friend, she'd never been spanked or caned at school before. She had a sinking feeling that her bottom was about to pay for her misdemeanor, and she was right. 

The bell rang, and the other girls looked on and whispered amongst themselves as Mrs. Stanton summarily escorted the two girls to the school office. She indicated the bench outside Headmistress Andersen's office. 

"Sit down, girls. While you can." The big woman knocked on the door, and disappeared inside for a moment. She came out with an unpleasant smile. 

"Go on in, ladies, Headmistress is waiting for you." 

Gulping, the girls complied. They found Headmistress Andersen, a formidable woman with a reputation for being tough but fair, standing in front of her desk, her arms folded in front of her. They stood at attention before her, hands at their sides, trying to be brave. 

"Miss Poundstone, back again I see," the woman observed. "Did you not assure me just two weeks ago that you wouldn't be back in this office for discipline?" 

"Yes, Miss, sorry, Miss." Alicia said, her gaze falling to the floor. 

"Eyes up, Poundstone!" she demanded. The girl complied, with effort. She was determined not to let the woman see fear in her eyes. 

"And Miss Harper! This is a first, I believe, is it not?" 

Gracie gulped and said in a quiet voice, "Yes, Miss." 

"Well, you girls know how I feel about smoking. It is a filthy habit that ruins one's health and causes ones' clothes to smell abominably. I won't have St.Luke's girls engaging in that or any other self-destructive behaviour. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Miss," both girls said in unison, hoping against hope to be let off with a warning. 

"Right, then. Remove your uniforms." 

The girls gasped. "But Miss..." Alicia began. 

"Hush, girl. Remove your uniform at once. Until you have paid for your misdemeanor, you are not worthy of it." 

Miserably, the two friends began stripping. They stepped out of their shoes, removed their skirts, and laid them on the desk. Under Mrs. Andersen's piercing glare, they did likewise with their vests and blouses. 

"Right. Go stand against the wall whilst I prepare the morning announcements." 

Feeling quite sorry for themselves, they walked dejectedly over to the wall in just their vests, knickers and socks, shivering with chill and anxiety. They both knew, but did not wish to contemplate, the fact that the Headmistress meant to make an example of them to the other students. Headmistress Andersen regarded the two sorry girls facing the wall with their hands on their heads. She smiled slightly, recalling having been in that exact same position and state of dress more than once as a girl. She sat behind her desk and readied her papers for the morning announcements. What she had in mind would embarrass the girls terribly, she knew, but it might just put them off cigarettes for life. A small price to pay for a lifetime of good health, she thought. 

The girls winced as they heard the intercom switched on. The worst-case scenario was unfolding! Suddenly both girls fervently wished they had never even considered trying a cigarette. 

Headmistress Andersen cleared her throat and began the morning announcements. All the girls would be listening intently in their homerooms, she knew, because their undivided attention was an absolute requirement when she spoke in her school. After getting all of the pertinent items out of the way, she announced, 

"And finally, this morning, we have two miscreants standing at the wall who have been divested of their uniforms." (Many a gasp was heard throughout the school at this announcement.) 

"Miss Poundstone and Miss Harper apparently thought it would be 'cool' to sneak a cigarette before classes. They were spotted by one of our keen-eyed monitors and brought to my office for punishment. In just a moment, it will be their bare bottoms that are smoking, and I assure you they will be anything but cool. Listen carefully, as any of you girls who indulge in this filthy habit will be dealt with in the same manner. Miss Harper, as this is your first offence, you may go first." 

Not at all thrilled to be given first place in this case, Gracie walked over timidly with tears in her eyes. Mrs. Andersen guided her over her lap, and the girl noted with horror that the intercom microphone was just inches from her face! Then she was quite astonished to feel the woman take the waistband of her panties in hand! 

"Oh, Miss, please!" she cried in humiliation. Mrs. Andersen just smiled ruefully and yanked the girl's knickers down to mid-thigh, revealing a snow-white bottom that still retained a bit of baby fat. 

"Miss Harper," she said, "I am quite certain you are aware that all discipline at St. Luke's Academy is carried out upon the bare bottom." The poor girl groaned in keen embarrassment. Her chubby little backside was something she would much rather keep from view, especially from one intent on spanking it. She imagined each and every girl in the school--and the staff and teachers as well--forming an accurate mental picture of her current oh-so-embarrassing state.

She hadn't long to ruminate upon the matter, because Mrs. Andersen promptly began to tan her bare backside hard with her open palm. Knowing her spanking was being broadcast all over school, the poor girl struggled to remain quiet, but alas, it was not to be. Not thirty seconds in, she was keening, crying, and begging for mercy. Mercy was not yet on offer, however; instead, the disciplinarian picked up her wooden ruler and continued smacking her errant pupil. Poor Gracie kicked her bare legs helplessly and shrieked as the hard wood crashed down all around her rear end and the tops of her thighs. When her entire backside was thoroughly reddened, Headmistress brought the spanking to a close. 

"Right, then young lady! Over to the wall with you, hands on your head and don't you dare rub that cherry red backside, or it will be back over my lap in a trice." 

Sobbing, and struggling to keep her hands from flying down to sooth her outraged cheeks, Gracie trotted over to the wall and stood there as required. 

"Miss Poundstone! Your time has come!" the headmistress announced. Having watched and listened to her friend's ordeal, Alicia had lost all her usual bravado. Whimpering slightly, and hating herself for it, she took her place over the formidable woman's lap. She'd hoped to retain some semblance of dignity, but when her knickers came down and the punishment began, that went right out the window. Mrs. Andersen spanked merrily away, with even more gusto this time, owing to Alicia's "repeat offender" status. By the time she switched over to her ruler, the girl's was nearly hysterical, kicking and bucking wildly on the woman's lap. Her shrieks carried to every corner of the school, striking fear in the hearts of her fellow students. 

Finally, it was over. Two very unhappy girls stood side by side against the wall, hands on their heads and bright red bottoms on display. Slightly out of breath from her exertions, the Headmistress returned to the microphone. 

"Girls of St. Luke's Academy, hear me. These two young ladies have been dealt with for now, but they remain under detention and will receive six strokes of the cane each after classes today. Keep in mind, ladies, your bodies are sacred, and substance abuse will not be tolerated at this school. When their punishment is complete this evening, their uniforms shall be returned to them; they will then be considered fully reinstated members of our school community, and you shall treat them as such. That is all." 

As was the custom at St. Luke's after a spanking or caning, the unfortunate two were allowed to dress, but only in the spare gym kits that Mrs. Andersen kept in her closet for such occasions. Poor Miss Harper wanted to die, because the gym shorts were much too tight, and showed off her ample bottom most embarrassingly. They were sent to class barefoot as a further deterrent to bad behaviour among their peers. They suffered a great deal of humiliation that day, quite a bit of giggling at their predicament, and a few questions about the current state of their "sacred" rear ends. Sitting on the hard wooden chairs all day was a torment, the floors were cold on their feet, and the hours just crept by. Still, they would have stopped time altogether if they could have avoided the canings they had been promised in the afternoon! The two friends never lit up again.

*     *     *

Part Two

Image from domesticdisciplinedigest.com

The day had been interminable for poor Gracie and Alicia. First, their bare-bottomed spankings over Headmistress Andersen's knee had been broadcast all over school via the intercom, adding exponentially to the humiliation the two 15-year-olds felt at being spanked like little children. Then they'd had to dress in extra-small gym knickers and tops for the rest of the day. Mrs. Andersen kept several of these outfits - designed to fit the average 12-year-old-in her closet for those times she deemed it necessary to make an example of one or more of her students. Just pulling the skin-tight shorts up over their swollen bare bottoms had been a horror for the freshly-spanked girls, and it was a particular trial for Gracie, who was a bit on the chubby side. Once on, it was terribly obvious just how small the shorts were; much of the girls' red, well-spanked bottoms were clearly visible.

The tops were simply small tank tops -- which the well-developed girls filled out to the max-and which ended about six inches above their navels. Headmistress Andersen had sent the two miscreants off to class thus attired, and without shoes. Some may think that being allowed to go barefoot in school would be a teenage girl's dream, but not at St. Luke's. At this school, it was a sign to all that the girl had recently been spanked or caned. Even if Mrs. Andersen had not opted for the intercom spanking and the gym kits, everyone would have known that Alicia and Gracie were sporting red bottoms by their conspicuous lack of footwear.

It was a terribly humiliating day for the two friends. They had to endure many mocking statements about their appearance from their classmates, and were deeply embarrassed each time one of their teachers asked if they would prefer to stand during class! The worst part of the day by far, though, was their 7th period English Literature class. The teacher, a Mr. Hasbury, was a recent graduate from University and a real "hottie" on whom both girls had quite the crush. Seeing the 22-year-old teacher hide a smile behind his hand as they hurried into class caused both girls to go red and fervently wish that the floor would open and swallow them up.

But their awful day was not yet over. They still faced further discipline from Headmistress Andersen in her office right after classes. Both girls watched the clock apprehensively. In a matter of minutes, their sore bottoms would feel the sting of the cane.

The bell rang, and Mr. Hasbury gave a few last-minute instructions to his class.

"Don't forget, ladies, your papers on Henry V are due tomorrow. Any late papers will automatically be dropped one grade."

"Yes, Sir," several of the girls chorused as they gathered their books and stood to leave.

"Speaking of timeliness," Mr. Hasbury spoke more quietly, and with a twinkle in his eye. "Miss Poundstone and Miss Harper, I wouldn't recommend dawdling on your way to your appointment with Headmistress Andersen. I have it on good authority that she adds a stroke for every minute one is late."

Most of the girls laughed, but Alicia and Gracie were too concerned about their already-sore bottoms to be good sports about it. Hanging their heads, they walked past the young teacher in their ridiculous outfits, feeling their faces flare the colour of raspberries.

"Never mind, girls," he said kindly, "knowing this lot, it will soon be someone else's turn at the end of the stick, and you'll be the ones laughing."

"Yes, Sir," said Alicia with just a hint of a smile. Any attention from Mr. Hasbury was a welcome thing, and he was actually being quite nice about their impending punishment. He wasn't the sort to "pile on" when a student was already humiliated, and his girls appreciated that about him. (That, and his tight arse!)

"Thank you, Sir," added Gracie, hardly able to look the gorgeous young man in the eye in her current predicament.

Once out in the hall, she felt panic rise in her throat.

"Is it really as bad as everyone says?" she asked her more experienced friend anxiously.

"I wish I could tell you it's not, but, yeah, it is. Worse, when you've already been spanked."

"Oh my God!" a tear appeared in Gracie's eye, "I don't know if I can do this!"

"Buck up, girl!" Alicia said under her breath. "Don't let them see you cry; St. Luke's girls are made of sterner stuff."

Alicia felt a pang of regret for having gotten this caning "virgin" in so much trouble. Still, she hoped her friend would take her punishment well; Alicia would hate to see Gracie cowed into being the proverbial "goody-two-shoes" for the rest of her life.

Gracie wiped her eyes and stayed by Alicia's side, taking comfort from her friend's courage. The two girls ignored the very few comments they heard on the way to the office. Most girls knew that their turn with the cane would come eventually, and didn't mock those on their way to receive the school's ultimate sanction for bad behaviour.

The girls entered the school office and received a warm smile from the kind school secretary.

"Rough day, girls?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss," they replied in unison.

"Well, it will all be over soon," the woman said kindly. "I trust you too aren't going to be doing any more smoking!"

"No, Miss," they chorused again. Actually, Alicia had no intention of letting anyone tell her what to do. She wouldn't stop smoking, but she sure as hell wouldn't get caught again!

The door opened, and Mrs. Andersen's large frame stood in the doorway.

"Come in, girls."

In they went, missing the secretary's soft giggle as she watched their two barely-covered rear ends disappear inside the office.

"So, ladies, I trust this was an educational day for you both," Headmistress Andersen said sincerely, standing in front of her desk, cane in hand. "I know it was embarrassing and anything but fun, but I take substance abuse seriously. Some people don't consider tobacco in the same category as controlled substances, but St. Luke's girls do not smoke. Believe me when I tell you girls, I do not want you to suffer through the lung cancer or emphysema a smoking habit will most definitely give you if you don't suffer a heart attack first. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Miss," the girls said in unison, standing in front of the rather imposing figure who was about to lay six strokes of the cane on their already-sore hindquarters.

"Miss Poundstone, as you are a return customer here, I think I can safely assume it was you who brought cigarettes to school. Am I correct?"

"Yes, Miss," Alicia replied with her head held high.

"Of course. And how, may I ask, did a 15-year-old young lady come to be in possession of such contraband?"

Alicia did a quick cost/benefit analysis of lying versus coming clean. She made her decision.

"I bought them, Miss."

"No, you most certainly did not!" the Headmistress replied, angry at being lied to. "I happen to know that the local shopkeepers will not sell cigarettes to a minor. Would you like to try again?"

Alicia struggled to keep her composure. She hated letting this woman know she could get to her.

"I, um, I ... borrowed them, Miss."

"I see. Of course, you borrowed them. Unless I am mistaken, 'borrowing' implies 'giving back.' How are you going to return the cigarettes that you 'borrowed?'"

Alicia was flustered, and angry at herself for letting herself become so. "I ... I don't know, Miss," she said lamely.

"So, third time's the charm. Where did you get the cigarettes, Miss Poundstone?"

Her face was lobster red, and she knew she had no way out at this point. "I ... I took them from my mother."

"'Took,' in this case, I believe, implies 'stole.' Miss Harper, what's a better word for taking something small that one thinks shan't be missed?"

Gracie, who had an excellent vocabulary, immediately replied, "'Purloined,' Miss?"

"Excellent, Miss Harper. So Miss Poundstone purloined several cigarettes from her mother, then shared one with you, making you an accessory to her theft. Had you thought of it that way?"

Gracie's eyes filled with tears. "No, Miss. Please, I didn't know where they came..."

"Oh, bugger it!"

Stunned silence filled the office after Alicia's outburst. A rare flush arose on Mrs. Andersen's face, but she quickly got herself under control.

"Excuse me, Miss Poundstone?"

"I said 'bugger it!' I stole the cigarettes, and I gave one to Gracie. She wouldn't even have tried one if I hadn't told her to. Punish me all you like, but leave her out of it; she's already been completely humiliated today!"

Gracie looked at her friend in awe; never had she heard anyone speak to Headmistress that way. It was awesome, but it was also awful: she knew Alicia was truly for it now!

"Miss," Gracie said with uncharacteristic boldness, "it's not all Alicia's fault. I could have said no, but I didn't. If she's getting more punishment, I should get the same."

Mrs. Andersen walked around her desk and sat down. "Well. Notwithstanding Miss Poundstone's completely unacceptable language - which shall be dealt with - this is a most interesting development, girls. What is The Fourth Pillar of St. Luke's School?"

"Loyalty, Miss," said Gracie automatically.

"Yes. Something the two of you have just demonstrated to one another. Miss Poundstone was ready to accept punishment in your place, Miss Harper : you immediately insisted that she not be punished more severely than yourself. Rarely do girls in this office under these circumstances act selflessly. I am most impressed."

"Does that mean..." Alicia began.

"That your punishments are cancelled? Certainly not, Miss Poundstone! The fact that I am impressed by your good behaviour does not give me leave to be unjust and ignore the bad. For stealing cigarettes and smoking, you shall receive three strokes of the cane. For lying to me, another three. And for your disgraceful language, another full six!"

Alicia blanched against her will. Twelve strokes! As far as she knew, Mrs. Andersen had never given anyone more than six. As tears filled her eyes, she regretted her outburst, but she did not regret standing up for her friend.

"Miss Harper. For smoking on school grounds, you shall receive your original sentence of six strokes."

Gracie, remembering Alicia's advice to "buck up," held her head high.

"Yes, Miss," she said in a clear, strong voice.

"And for demonstrating The Fourth Pillar in action, both your sentences are reduced by half," Mrs. Andersen declared proudly. "Miss Harper, kindly remove your shorts and lie across my desk."

Gracie quickly complied. Although she was terribly embarrassed to be naked below the waist, she was jubilant that she had only three, rather than the promised six, strokes of the cane to endure. Alicia, who knew just how bad the standard six strokes could be, was incredibly relieved she would not be receiving twelve.

"Count each stroke aloud, Miss Harper," Mrs. Andersen ordered the pink-bottomed girl lying in the classic caning position across her desk.

"Yes, Miss."

THHWWWACK!!

For half a second, Gracie thought she could take three of these easily enough. Then the cane's famous "afterburn" set in, and she could hardly believe the exquisite sting in her tail.

"OWW!! One, Miss!"

THHWWWACK!!

"AHH!" Gracie stamped one bare foot against the wooden floor in response to the searing pain.

"T-Two, Miss!!"

Mrs. Andersen took careful aim for the lower part of the girl's bottom. She wanted to make this last one memorable, as she hoped that one good caning would set the girl back on the straight and narrow path.

THHHWWWAAACCKKK!!!

"OH MY GOD!"

As a dark red line materialized on the lower portion of her buttocks, Gracie threw her head back and pounded her fists on the desk. Mrs. Andersen waited a moment, then said,

"If you fail to count the stroke, I shall have to repeat it."

"NO! OWW!! THREE, MISS!!"

"Very good, Miss Harper. You may go and stand against the wall. Hands on your head, and no rubbing."

"Y-Yes, M-Miss!" the girl said, and fairly trotted over to face the wall. Her butt was burning as it never had before, but she had survived the cane.

"Right then, Miss Poundstone. Please remove your shorts and take position."

Alicia did so. When she was bare from the waist down and lying across the desk, Mrs. Andersen gave her pink bottom a couple of practice strokes. Although she had happily reduced the girl's sentence, she meant to make the strokes count. She brought the cane back to shoulder height, then swept it down with considerable force on the very centre of the girl's bottom.

THHWWAACCKK!!

"Ahh!! One, Miss!"

Mrs. Andersen smiled as the first line set in most vividly against the skin she had so skillfully tenderised that morning.

Thinking of Miss Poundstone's theft and use of contraband, she let the cane fly again, lower this time.

THHWWAACCKK!!!

"AH! OW! Two, Miss!!"

The woman considered how this girl had led a well-behaved student astray, and swung hard.

"AHHH!! OWW!! THREE, MISS!!"

The headmistress admired her handiwork thus far. There were three livid lines across the miscreant's bare rump.

"We're halfway there, Poundstone," she said in the girl's ear.

TTHHHWWWAAACCCKKK!!!

Alicia gasped, threw her head back and pounded on the desk in searing pain.

"OWW!! OHH! OH MY GOD..."

"The stroke counts only if you count it, Miss Poundstone." Mrs. Andersen said calmly.

"AHH! OW!! TH-THR..."

TTHHWWAACCKK!!

"AHHHHH!!!!"

The woman gave her time to fully absorb her penalty stroke.

Unable to fight it anymore, Alicia allowed the tears to flow. Headmistress was swinging harder than usual today, and no mistake! It took all her will power to croak out,

"F-FOUR, M-MISS!!"

Mrs. Andersen was delighted to see tears from this haughty young woman. "I once was such a haughty young woman," she thought. Her Headmistress at school had finally gotten through to her by means of a heavily-wielded cane such as she now held. This could well be the crucial turning point for Alicia Poundstone, and she owed the child the very best she could give.

She pulled the cane back and high, then let it fly toward the crease between the girl's bottom and her thighs.

TTHHWWAACCKK!!!

"AHHH!!! OWWW!!!!"

Alicia sobbed and cried, the tears flowing down her cheeks and onto the desk. She kicked one foot out, then the other, and pounded the desk as her brain registered the most blinding pain she had ever felt. Mrs. Andersen wisely waited, allowing the hard cane stroke to fully sink in and accomplish its salutary task. After about 30 seconds while Alicia's tears flowed copiously, she finally spoke again.

"What number was that, Miss Poundstone?"

"F-F-FIVE, MISS!!!"

TTTHHHWWWAAACCCKKK!!!!

"AHHHOWWWW ... SIX, MISS!!!"

Alicia lay over the desk, crying like a baby. Six livid maroon weals stood in testament to the headmistress's skill with the cane. The girl had been well and fully punished, she thought, and her crying had the tone of genuine repentance about it. "This could be the day she turns around," the woman thought hopefully.

"Right, then, Miss Poundstone. Time to go and join Miss Harper at the wall."

Mrs. Andersen watched Alicia struggle stiffly to her feet, and she handed the girl several tissues.

"Clean up your face, dear. You can drop the tissues in the dustbin on the way to the wall."

Alicia did as she was instructed, and soon there was evidence of a two jobs well and thoroughly done. The girls stood with their hands on their heads in their small tank tops, completely bare below them. Across each backside were distinct, dark-red lines, three on Gracie's and seven on Alicia's. The girls would doubtless find sitting in classes tomorrow quite a trial, especially Alicia.

Mrs. Andersen spent about ten minutes seeing to end-of-the-day paperwork, then decided to bring the two girls' day of painful discipline to an end. She walked around to the front of her desk and called them over.

The two more-than-half-naked girls stood before their Headmistress, their hands still interlocked behind their heads.

"So then, ladies. It has been a particularly long and trying day, has it not?"

"Yes, Miss," they replied together.

"Miss Harper, should someone else offer you purloined contraband in the future, what are you going to do?"

"I'll politely decline, Miss."

"Excellent! Precisely what I hoped to hear, and exquisitely phrased."

Although exhausted, Gracie beamed inwardly at the Headmistress's honest praise.

"Miss Poundstone, what will you differently after today's experience?"

"I won't be 'purloining' anything of my mother's, that's for sure, Miss." Her voice was weak and a bit hoarse from her ordeal, but there was a trace of good humour in it.

"Good, I'm very glad to hear it. Perhaps you can convince her to give up the deadly habit as well. Anything else?"

"Well, I certainly won't smoke again or try to get someone else to, Miss."

"Ah, that's very good to hear. Smoking is so hazardous to one's health, after all."

"Not to mention one's bottom, Miss," said Gracie with a smile, and her partner in crime turned to her and smiled, too. Mrs. Andersen chuckled at the girl's witticism.

"Indeed, Miss Harper! What is it they say in America? 'If you can't do the time, don't do the crime?' Perhaps we should adapt that slogan for St. Luke's - 'If you can't take the cuts, don't smoke the butts!"

Both girls laughed. They had seldom seen Headmistress in such a buoyant mood. They couldn't know it yet, but it was because their day of discipline was over, and she was almost as relieved as the girls themselves.

"Right then, girls. Your debt is paid; you may have your uniforms and shoes back."

Both girls had never been happier about putting on their school uniforms. As they dressed, Mrs. Andersen returned to her chair.

"Ladies, one last thing," she said, looking at the girls over the tops of her bifocals as they finished dressing.

"Yes, Miss?" they both replied. (They were becoming quite adept at this speaking-in-unison thing.)

"I never want to see either of you in this office again under such circumstances. Are we clear?"

"We're clear, Miss," said Alicia.

"Once was more than enough for me, Miss," Gracie added.

Mrs. Andersen couldn't hide a smile. Was this really the same Gracie Harper she had spanked over her knee just this morning? No, she supposed not. The child had navigated an important rite of passage, and was the better for it.

As for Alicia Poundstone, she had high hopes. The girl was clearly highly intelligent; she also had a strong personality and the qualities of a leader in the making. It would be Mrs. Andersen's job to carefully channel those qualities in a healthy and productive direction.

While the Headmistress often left school simply exhausted, there were some days when she left for home acutely aware of how fortunate she was to have a job that really made a difference in people's lives. Today was definitely one of those days.

© Aunt Carla