The Willow Street Seven
It was only by accident that Marjorie found out about the
other girls in her neighborhood. Looking back on all the years
they had grown up together it was kind of strange that none of them
knew about the others. She guessed that all of her friends had
thought the same thing she had -- that she was the only one who got
spanked. At least for the last five years or so; when they were
little kids they knew because their friend would be hauled off by
the ear by their parent, or even spanked in front of them. But
finding out that now, when they were all in high school, nearly all
of them were still regularly spanked by either their mother or
father -- that was a bit of a shock!
Marjorie hadn't discovered this fact about all of her friends
all at once. One evening, she had picked up the phone to make a
call and heard her father talking on the other extension. But in
the second or so before she could realize her mistake and put the
receiver down, she heard some familiar sounds in the background on
the other end of the line. It had to be a spanking taking place,
and she heard Mr. Underhill's voice answering her father. She
slipped the receiver back down as soundlessly and quickly as she
could. The Underhills only had one child, her friend Marie.
It was hard to get her friends to talk about it. But when
Marjorie volunteered some information about her own punishments,
the others would usually open up and give some details in exchange.
With one exception, all were relieved that they weren't the only
one. Terri alone remained too embarrassed to ever discuss her
spankings.
They were spanked in different ways, too. Of the seven she
knew about -- herself, four friends and the sisters of two of them
-- Carol and Marie were the only ones spared the humiliation of
having their underpants taken down. Carol really was shocked when
she heard that Marjorie was spanked on the bare bottom. Carol was
the youngest of the group, a sophomore in high school, and was on
the small side. She wore her straight blond hair in a page-boy
cut, which framed her rather cute face nicely. She easily overcame
her relative youth in the circle of friends by her self-confidence
and energy.
According to Carol, her dad always sent her down to the
basement rec room when she was to be punished. There she had to
wait for him while bent over the back of an old armchair, with
jeans already down or skirt up, until he came downstairs. When she
heard his footsteps on the stairs she screwed her eyes tightly shut
and got herself ready, for it would only be a moment before he
picked up the paddle from the nearby ping-pong table and began to
apply it to the upraised seat of her panties. He didn't stop until
the seat of the chair was damp from the tears of his sobbing
daughter. But never had he pulled down Carol's underwear for her
spanking, though he had often threatened to make the 16-year-old's
next punishment on the bare.
Veronica's home situation was very different from Carol's.
Her parents had divorced when she was 12, and it was hard on her
and her younger sister and older brother. Three years ago, when
she was 15, her mother had remarried, and things were fine between
stepfather and children for several weeks after he had moved in and
assumed his fatherly responsibilities. Then came the day one of
them disobeyed him. In fairness to him, Ronnie's sister Elisabeth
gave every indication of testing his power as parent over her; of
the three children, she at 13 probably took her natural father's
absence the hardest.
Tom Stephens, Veronica's new stepfather, was a very easygoing
person, but to his credit he knew that he was being tested. He
sent Elisabeth to her room immediately, and then had a long talk
with his wife about what to do. She told him about how the
children had been disciplined in the past. For Elisabeth's
deliberate disregard for a family rule -- missing dinner time
completely and never phoning -- a spanking would definitely have
been in order. On the other hand, Mrs. Stephens' ex-husband had
always carried out those punishments, and the children had not been
spanked by their mother since the divorce. She acknowledged to
Tom, however, that their behavior had become the worse for it over
the past few years.
They reached a consensus that the best approach would be for
him to react very decisively to Elisabeth's behavior, and to assume
fully his role as father right away. This meant disciplining the
children in the same way as they had been brought up -- with bare-
bottom, over-the-knee spankings. Tom was a little hesitant, but
his wife thought that he might risk losing the children's respect
if his spankings were not as feared by them as were their natural
father's.
Veronica well remembered what happened after her parents met
that evening. Elisabeth was called into the parental bedroom, and
soon there was the sound of her voice in frantic protest. "No, you
can't, you can't!" was repeated over and over. Veronica could
guess what was coming, and after a few more minutes of crying-
sister and stern-parent sounds through the bedroom walls and door,
a steady Smack-Smack-Smack could be heard that continued for the
next ten minutes. Only afterward, when a sobbing Elisabeth
stumbled into their room, did Veronica learn that it had been on
the bare -- as Elisabeth, in her eagerness to escape after the
spanking, had not bothered to pull up her pants. As she lay on the
bed crying, her sister Veronica could see the evidence for herself
that her new father meant business.
It wasn't that long before Ronnie found this out 'first-hand',
as it were, and since that first time over her stepfather's knee it
became about as regular as any other part of her life. She'd earn
herself a spanking about every six weeks or so, but more often in
the summer than the winter, when she had more time on her hands for
mischief, and the good weather made her more forgetful of her
family responsibilities. She would have to report to her parents'
room, get a scolding, then have to drop her shorts and assume the
prostrate position over her stepfather's knee -- her long light-
brown hair falling to the floor on one side while her panties were
being tugged down to fall around her ankles on the other. Even
after three years, she had never become so used to this act of
baring that she didn't blush with shame at the sight her pale,
naked backside and long, tan legs afforded her stepfather. Then
the leather paddle -- the sole of a man's slipper attached to a
short wooden handle -- that her stepfather had started using about
a year ago would flash down across her upraised buttocks, and
Ronnie would somehow endure the sting of another long paddling.
The first time had been the most embarrassing, though, and all
the worse because she had earned her punishment that morning but
had to wait until evening to receive it. Her stepfather had
overheard her on the basement telephone using some rather vulgar
language in describing a new boy at school to a friend. Mr.
Stephens had been going out the back door on his way to visit a
sick relative, but time out to inform her of what would await her
on his return that night. For the rest of the day she could not
get the image out of her head -- standing by his side having her
pants taken down for her spanking.
When she heard the car pulling into the driveway, she nearly
fainted from her anxiety, and when he called her into his room 10
minutes later, her knees were like jelly. And then the image she
had obsessed about all day came true. His hands were at the button
and zipper of her jeans, and down they went while she whimpered
"no" and shuffled awkwardly until they were bunched around her
knees. And then, that first time, he had proceeded to take down
her underwear, while she was still standing there! It was more
than she could handle, and she almost threw herself over his lap in
her shame. But she quickly regretted her eagerness, as the
spanking started right away and her white bottom was relentlessly
transformed by his strong right hand into a blazing, splotchy red.
Willow Street Seven [part 2]
Unlike Ronnie, Marie Robinson was always spanked by her
mother, but always in the living room with her dad free to watch if
he happened to be downstairs. Marie had pleaded with her mother
for a long time to have her punishments take place in private in
Marie's own bedroom, but she had not acquiesced. For one thing,
there were only the three of them in the house, and her mother also
believed that if Marie was embarrassed by her father's presence,
she did not have to misbehave and earn the spankings in the first
place. Furthermore, she said, her father could just as well spank
her himself, but preferred to have her mother in charge of her
discipline. Marie usually backed down after these implied threats
were made.
Her spankings took place invariably in the evening. She would
help her mother clear the table after dinner and clean up in the
kitchen, after which her mother would dismiss her to her room for
10 minutes or so to wait to be called down to the living room.
Marie was always afraid that someone would come to the door, or
that someone would call when she was over her mother's knee. As
I've said, this is how Marjorie found out about Marie's spankings.
Mrs. Robinson would scold Marie for quite awhile as the
woebegone young girl stood in front of her, head downcast, and
apologized for her misbehavior. Then calling Marie over to her
right side, her mother would undo the belt and zipper of Marie's
jeans, her standard outfit, and push them down to her lower thighs.
This part of her punishment, in which her pants were taken down,
was always the part Marie hated most, as it most reminded her of
her childhood punishments. Her mother then took her wrist and
guided her daughter well over her lap, so that Marie's full bottom
was poised high over her mother's right knee. Marie usually wore
rather tight, thin cotton panties, which when stretched taut in
this position were almost transparent.
Only her mother's hand was used on most occasions, but always
for a solid 10 minutes until Marie's entire bottom glowed red
through the thin panties, and her upper thighs were a bright
crimson. Every few months or so Marie's behavior would merit, in
her mother's opinion, an implement more painful than her hand, and
Marie would be quite upset on those occasions when arriving
downstairs to find a hairbrush sitting on the coffee table. It
should come as no surprise that Marie was not silent during the
proceedings, nor should it be hard to understand how Marjorie could
have heard the sounds of Marie's spanking that night in the
background of her father's conversation with Mr. Robinson.
Terri Rawlston never would talk about her spankings with
Marjorie, except for that one time when she admitted still
receiving them. More than that, Marjorie couldn't get out of her.
Terri had always been shy to begin with, and was plainly
embarrassed by the topic. Marjorie didn't press too hard, as she
didn't want to arouse any suspicions of undue interest on Terri's
part -- although, we might add, such interest was certainly there!
However, despite Terri's silence, Marjorie knew about as much about
Terri's punishments as she did about anyone else's; in fact,
probably more, because Marjorie had actually seen a few of them!
It turned out that a former boyfriend of Marjorie's named
Larry lived on the same block as the Rawlston's, so that the
backyards of the two families met in the middle of the block.
Marjorie had once confided to Larry about her own spankings;
actually, this was prompted when he noticed her wincing as he was
squeezing her bottom under her skirt. Anyway, she noticed that he
didn't seem surprised that a girl of her age was still spanked, and
so he told her about the Rawlings family.
There were three children, Terri the oldest at 16, her sister
of 14, and a boy of 12. Spankings had always been frequent in the
Rawlings household, and it was more or less an open secret on the
block when one was being given. This was because all spankings
were administered in the same room in the basement, in the back end
of the house, where there were only screens in the windows most of
the year, and never any curtains. Larry showed Marjorie the view
out the window of his own room, from which one could see directly
down into the Rawlings basement. He confessed that he had
"happened" to see Terri and her sister punished many times over the
years. And so, ironically, the girl who was of all of them the
most embarrassed and ashamed of still being spanked, had also all
along been punished unwittingly and without her knowledge in a
semi-public manner.
Marjorie made Larry promise to call her the next time it
sounded like a spanking was going to take place. She lived only a
few blocks down Willow, and could be over to his place in 5-10
minutes. She didn't have to wait long, only a few nights later Tom
was doing homework when he noticed the lights going on over in the
Rawlings' basement. He called Marjorie immediately but while she
was on her way over, he realized that with his folks home the two
of them couldn't be alone in his room with the lights off. So
Larry got on his jacket and met Marjorie outside, then led her
quietly by the moonlight through the mazes of bushes and trees in
the backyards of the block. Soon they could hear quite clearly the
sounds from the Rawlings' basement, and Larry found the two of them
a prime vantage point behind some bushes and a cherry tree, only 15
feet or so from the basement window. They could see Mrs. Rawlings
upstairs in the kitchen window so they kept very still.
Marjorie's heart skipped a beat; down there in the basement
room was Terri, sitting by herself! She looked miserable, and
evidently already had been crying from the looks of her face. But
despite Marjorie's excitement at finding Terri to be the
unfortunate Rawling of the hour, she couldn't help but notice the
room itself. It was a small room, and held only an old couch and
the chair on which Terri was seated. But on one wall was a series
of hooks, and dangling from them were a small game paddle, a short
strap, another paddle about a foot long with rounded edges, and a
longer strap. Marjorie was astounded when she saw these
instruments, and she gave an involuntary shudder for Terri, who
might well be feeling one of them very soon.
Mr. Rawlings then came into the room, and Terri immediately
jumped up and began to plead with him in a shaky voice. It was
clear from the intensity of her arguments that she didn't think she
deserved the impending punishment. For awhile Marjorie even
thought she would be disappointed in her hopes to see Terri
spanked, as Terri's arguments seemed to be persuading Mr. Rawlings.
They could see the gathering hope in Terri's eyes too, as she
pleaded her case that she was not to blame. But in the end it was
all for naught, as Mr. Rawlings finally ruled that her sentence
would stand nonetheless, that she had been responsible enough for
the event in question -- something about her younger brother
hurting himself in a fall. Terri was now much more upset at her
upcoming fate than she would have been had not her hopes for a
pardon been raised. Her voice had a touch of the hysterical in it
as she continued her futile pleas up to the end; her repeated "no,
daddy, no, please, no..." mingling with little racking sobs as her
father took down the small strap from its hook.
She was led over to the chair by her father, who after sitting
down, seemed to be waiting expectantly. Marjorie didn't catch on
to why until she saw Terri nervously reaching back to grasp up the
hem of her pleated skirt, and quite reluctantly gather it up and
hold it in the small of her back. Mr. Rawlings patted his right
knee and Terri, still holding up her skirt in back, leaned slowly
forward until she landed on his lap -- a little too far as she
nearly lost her balance and pitched forward. But he held her in
place with his left arm around her waist, then pulled up her skirt
till it was well up out of the way. Marjorie's breath caught in
her throat as she saw him wait again -- was Terri supposed to bare
herself too?
Such was the case, for when Terri did not respond right away,
her father threatened her with an even more severe punishment if
she didn't get her panties down *immediately*. "No, Daddy, not
this time, *please*, *please* -- " but her words were cut short by
three rapid strokes of the short strap on the backs of her thighs.
"I said NOW, young lady!" and Terri quickly reached back and
grasped the elastic band of her underwear. She was forced to raise
her buttocks high in order to completely tug them down to the
middle of her thighs. Marjorie glanced over at Larry, who was
breathing rather quickly and having some difficulty swallowing at
the moment. She squeezed his hand but he didn't seem to notice;
Marjorie was a little put off but had to admit that the bottom just
bared in the basement below gave her own a lot of competition --
and after all, wasn't this all her idea?
Terri was crying softly even before she felt her father's arm
around her waist once more and heard the rustle of his shirt which
meant the strap was being raised, but at that point she stiffened
her entire body in anticipation -- her bottom tightened, her head
and legs came up and Marjorie could see the look of fear on her
face, and her wide-eyed gasp when the first Smack! of the strapping
landed. Mr. Rawlings swung the strap in a high, wide arc and used
a lot of wrist at impact, so each stroke made a loud Pop! as it
came down across Terri's clenching posterior. He would concentrate
on one side of her bottom and sometimes even just one small area
until she would howl and buck across his lap, and then he would
move on to yet-unchastened territory. "Not the s-same s-spot,
Daddy!" Terri protested more than once, but in vain, of course.
Marjorie had to admire Mr. Rawlings facility with the strap; it
didn't take that long for Terri's entire nether globes to glow with
the dull red a soundly applied strap will produce.
After several dozen strokes, Terri was crying very hard and
quite loud. Marjorie looked up and saw that Terri's mother had
stopped what she was doing in the kitchen and was staring blankly
ahead, biting her lip, obviously affected by the sounds from below.
Terri's bottom was livid, and the strap had left marks all the way
around her right side, and down her thighs as well. Terri was
still struggling; every once in awhile jerking her head up at an
especially hard stroke. Then Mr. Rawlings stopped rather abruptly
and dropped the strap to the floor. Marjorie looked meaningfully
up at Larry and made a sign that they should get going. But Larry
caught her arm and whispered "Wait, there's usually more."
Marjorie looked at him, a bit puzzled, but waited and watched.
And sure enough, Mr. Rawlings ordered Terri off his lap, and over
to the couch.
The next few minutes were very important ones for Marjorie,
for as she watched Terri shuffle over to the back of the couch,
rubbing her blistered buttocks and still sobbing from her
strapping, Marjorie realized how light her own spankings had been
by comparison. No longer would she so bitterly complain about her
many hairbrushings over her father's knee, as here was Terri
bending her already well-strapped bottom over the back of the old
sofa, begging her father for "no more". Then as Mr. Rawlings took
down the long, thin paddle and walked over to his daughter,
Marjorie learned what it was to be *really* punished. Fascinated
as Larry and Marjorie had been by the entire proceedings, it was
almost too hard to watch as Terri was made to count out her age in
solid paddle strokes, each laid on across the fullness of her
already sore, stinging behind.
Larry and Marjorie left while Terri was still over the back of
the sofa, crying hard and rubbing herself. Her father had already
left the room, after ordering Terri up to her room. "I can see why
she never wanted to talk about it", said Marjorie. "Not only must
it be really embarrassing for her, but if I were always spanked
that hard, I wouldn't ever want to *think* about it, much less talk
about it!"
Willow Street Seven [part 3]
Marjorie also witnessed Terri's sister Cindy being punished,
about two months later. That time she and Larry were up in his
room when the sounds came wafting up from the Rawlings' basement,
but his parents were out so they stayed there to watch. Cindy
was very well-developed for her age, and already dated more than
Terri -- who as we've said was on the shy side. Larry told
Marjorie that Cindy got spanked much more often than did Terri,
and Marjorie could see this for herself from the rather
lackadaisacal attitude that Cindy was taking towards her
impending spanking. Instead of arguing and pleading like Terri,
Cindy hardly said a word -- though her bored and disdainful look
spoke volumes itself. Marjorie didn't think this was a good
strategy to take with an angry father before a spanking, and the
look on Mr. Rawlings' face told her she was right. He made Cindy
take her jeans off completely, then really gave her a long
talking-to as the girl stood there in her t-shirt and rather
skimpy white panties. If Mr. Rawlings had intended to change
Cindy's attitude by this tactic, then his plan worked, because
Cindy was more than a little embarrassed by her state of undress
and was now clearly anxious to get the spanking over with.
What came next probably helped to change her attitude even
more, for after Mr. Rawlings went over and took the small paddle
from its hook, he gave Cindy a good old-fashioned blistering. As
soon as the girl was over his lap her panties were yanked right
down to her knees, and the paddling began. Marjorie was glad she
wasn't on the receiving end, Mr. Rawlings may have been severe
with Terri the time before but this time he was really *mad*. It
seemed as though he put everything he had into each whack of the
paddle onto Cindy's upraised buttocks. She began to struggle
desperately to get off his lap and howling for him to stop, when
she could manage a break from her steady crying. Marjorie knew
that tune from her own painful experience: the rhythmic "huh-huh-
huh-huh-huuuuuh-WHEEZE-huh-huh-huh-huuuuh" of continuous open-
mouthed sobbing puncuated by hurried gasps for air. In his
anger, Mr. Rawlings probably went on longer than he meant to, and
when he finally told Cindy to get up and go to her room, she fell
to the floor and rolled back and forth in agony trying to give
her bottom some relief. As she lay there, crying hard and
touching herself back there gingerly now and again to assess the
damage, Cindy's behind glowed out of that basement room across
the block like a stoplight.
Larry told Marjorie afterward that it was the hardest
spanking he had ever seen Mr. Rawlings give. Unfortunately for
Marjorie, that was the end of their conversation for the evening.
They had been so engrossed in what they had been watching they
hadn't heard Larry's folks arrive downstairs. Suddenly the
bedroom door was opened by Larry's mom, Mrs. Thomas, and she
surprised the two of them, in the dark on Larry's bed looking out
the window. As they were fully clothed and not in any
compromising positions, she wouldn't have been that angry, except
that Larry's hand had unconsciously found its way onto the seat
of Marjorie's jeans sometime during the preceding half-hour. Not
to mention that the two of them did look a little flushed and
were breathing quickly, though not for the reason Larry's mother
assumed. All that tipped the scales of evidence against them.
Marjorie got out of that house as quickly as she could, but not
after Mrs. Thomas had given both of them a good scolding, and
despite Marjorie's entreaties had promised to give her parents a
call.
It wasn't a long walk home, and Marjorie hurried in the hope
she could get there before the dreaded phone call came. That way
she'd have a chance to have her say first and maybe diffuse the
situation. No such luck -- Mrs. Brandt, Marjorie's mother, was
on the phone when she got there and Marjorie didn't like the look
on her face. Mrs. Brandt had rules of her own about such
behavior. Marjorie was among the brightest students in her
graduating class, and had already been accepted by a prestigious
Western university, but she couldn't talk her way out of this
one. Her mother ordered her up to her room to wait until her
father got home from the drugstore, and Marjorie knew very well
what that meant.
As she waited in her room, anticipating yet another spanking
across her father's lap, a million thoughts ran through her head.
There was the usual butterflies-in-the-stomach, the sweaty palms,
quickened heart and breath, and all-around agitation she had
always felt no matter how often she was spanked. But this time
there were the fresh and vivid memories of Cindy Rawling's
paddling, not yet an hour old. That made Marjorie more afraid
than usual before a punishment; she couldn't get the sight of
Cindy's contorted, tear-soaked face and scalded bottom out of her
mind.
And these memories and anxiety and fear were mixed together
with a kind of eagerness for what was about to happen, an
impatience and a trembling excitement. Marjorie's senses seemed
to her to be extremely sensitive and alert. She was a little
confused by the torrent of conflicting emotions that engulfed
her; yet she was fully aware of her sexual feelings towards
spanking. She had pursued her investigation of her friend's
spankings avidly once she learned Marie's secret, and she knew it
wasn't mere curiosity that caused her to hide behind bushes in
Terri's backyard to watch her unfortunate friend's bare-bottom
strapping. Even before this recent voyeuristic exploration of
her friends' spanking sessions began, she had become aware of a
curious inclination towards actually wanting to be spanked at the
same time she dreaded it.
Marjorie looked the part of a serious, scholarly type, at
least in her glasses and simple haircut -- shoulder-length
straight brown hair, parted in the middle. She had dark brown
eyes, a friendly face, and had filled out nicely in the right
places. Her glasses and straightforward, no make-up, sweaters
and jeans appearance did fool a few people, but not anyone who
looked hard or long enough. Marjorie was among the most
beautiful girls in her high school, and her lack of vanity about
her looks won her more admiration than the looks themselves. In
short, she was popular, dated regularly, and had her head on
straight.
Her high school classmates therefore would not have
recognized her as she sat on her bed waiting for her father's
imminent arrival. Confident and composed she may be to the
outside world, in her bedroom waiting to be spanked she was a
flurry of nervous apprehension and erotic turmoil. Her glasses
were off, over on her night table; she knew they always fell off
while she was over his lap anyway. And she had checked herself
in the mirror at least a dozen times to make sure she was
presentable. She felt very warm, despite the nice breeze and her
light clothes, and had already changed her blouse once because of
perspiration. In real time she hadn't waited that long -- maybe
10 minutes -- before her father came in from the garage, but she
just could not wait for the familiar knock on her door. There it
was, and her father entered her bedroom and shut the door behind
him.
Willow Street Seven [part 4 of 4]
Mr. Brandt's face showed more disappointment than anger with
what he had just heard about Marjorie. He was also more than a
little puzzled at how indiscreet and obvious she had been with
Larry. As was his custom, he gave Marjorie a chance to explain
her side of things instead of punishing her right off. This she
did as far as promising that "nothing had happened", but she
couldn't get around the bald facts of the two of them being on
the bed in a dark room when Larry's parents were out. And so the
moment for Marjorie finally arrived, the gruff command from her
father to bring him her hairbrush from the dresser.
She was breathing quickly now; as she walked over to the
dresser her knees felt like jelly, and she had the sensation of
being detached from herself, more of a spectator than a
participant. The hairbrush had been there on the dresser since
she was a child, and had been used to spank her since she was 11.
Its wooden, oval back had become smooth with frequent use in
disciplining first her older sister Karen, now married and living
in Pittsburgh, and then Marjorie. She picked it up and delivered
it to her father, now seated on the edge of her bed, and waited
by his side for the next command, the one that caused her the
greatest trepidation and the greatest thrill -- to undress, and
that meant *completely*. It was the one part of her spankings
she never confessed to anyone, not her friends, not Larry. She
admitted to getting it on the bare, just like most of her
friends, but she knew it was only a half-truth -- she never said
*how* bare. Long ago, her father told her that she would always
be spanked completely naked, no matter how old, because it would
be a reminder that she was still their child, and so was still
expected to obey them.
She thought of all this while she was unbuttoning her
blouse, and then folding it over the back of the desk chair. She
reached behind her to unhook her bra, then tugged down the
shoulder straps and set it aside as well. Through all of this
Marjorie was blushing furiously, and averting her eyes from her
father. Her skin was a light tan from the beach, except for her
pale breasts, which while not large were quite pert. She briefly
held her forearm over the small rose-colored nipples but had to
tend to the side zipper of her jean-skirt; as she leaned over her
breasts swung free. Marjorie's embarrassment at this point was
extreme, but it was also contributing to the exquisite feeling of
helplessness and submission she was experiencing. The same
feeling she had in Larry's room watching Cindy Rawling's
paddling, only much more so. The skirt fell around her ankles
and she stepped out of it.
Now only her panties remained. As she put her fingers in
the waistband, Marjorie gave her father a small imploring look,
as if in hope he would relent and allow her to keep them on. It
was almost a tradition; she had given him that look right at the
end for as long as she could remember. It was no more successful
this time than in the past. Mr. Brandt nodded impatiently, and
Marjorie bent forward and tugged down her panties past her knees,
breasts swaying slightly, and her embarrassment reached its peak.
Here she was, 18 years old and about to enter college, taking
down her panties in preparation for a spanking over her father's
knee! She took them off completely, set them on the chair with
the rest of her clothes, and stood naked at her father's side.
He made her stand there for about a minute while he scolded
her on her behavior. Marjorie felt the humiliation of her
situation very keenly; she covered herself in front with her
hands but it didn't change the totally helpless feeling that
stripping had given her. As the reader knows, her predicament
was intensely exciting for her. Then Mr. Brandt took his
daughter's arm and guided her over his knee. Marjorie's full
buttocks came into view, raised high over his right thigh. They
were sharply defined by tan lines; their whiteness was in stark
contrast to the suntan on Marjorie's back and legs. He noticed
the goosebumps on her bottom and thighs.
Staring at the carpet, waiting for the first biting smack of
the hairbrush, Marjorie's senses were filled by the feel of her
father's trousers against her bare skin, and the night air cool
against her buttocks and legs. She reached back to grasp a chair
leg for support with her right hand as her father's arm brought
the first stroke of the hairbrush down on her lower right
buttock. Marjorie fought off the instinct to clench her buttocks
tightly together; this only meant bruises later on. Each spank
of the brush stung her like crazy, and the pain was building as
her father gave the entire area its initial pinkening. But even
though she felt the pain of the spanking as sharply as anyone
else would, and was already crying, something inside her made her
want to assist in her own punishment. And so she kept her legs
parted slightly so that more of her bottom area would be
available for spanking, and kept her bottom high as if to meet
the hairbrush halfway. Her father, noticing only the crying, was
satisfied that the punishment was having its intended effect.
After five minutes of constant smacks, the area defined by
the tan lines was entirely reddened; the sting of the long
hairbrushing was becoming too much for Marjorie. She wailed and
pleaded and asked forgiveness and sobbed as he first covered one
cheek, then the other with sharp, wrist-flicking snaps of the
brush. She could see in the dresser mirror how red her bottom
was becoming. Then came some smacks on the top of her thighs,
and Marjorie howled with the pain, jumping up and nearly off her
father's lap. He held her down with his strong left arm while he
finished her spanking with 10 very hard smacks to each cheek, all
on the fullest area just above the thigh. During these Marjorie
gasped and struggled and cried louder than ever. And then it was
all over. Her father held her over his lap until she calmed down
to the point where she was crying softly, then helped her up.
Marjorie stood there rubbing her bottom, still highly self-
conscious but feeling very humble thanked him for the spanking
and apologized for what she had done. Mr. Brandt hugged her and
stroked her hair, and told her he was sorry to have to spank her.
Then he left the room, and Marjorie fell on the bed in emotional
as well as physical exhaustion. It wasn't long, though, before
she got up to examine her bottom in the mirror, and she
remembered and thought about her spanking well into the night.
It may be said by way of postscript that the "Willow Street
Seven" were all spanked through their high school years, some
more than others of course. And there is some good news and some
bad news for the reader; the bad news first, that Carol's dad
never did follow through on his frequent threat to take her
panties down for her paddling. This naturally was not considered
to be bad news by Carol.
The good news is that Marjorie and Larry stayed together. A
few days after the spanking described above, Marjorie confessed
the obvious to Larry while they walked along the river. Of
course, Larry knew about Marjorie's interest in seeing Terri and
her sister punished, and Marjorie knew about Larry's. Still,
Larry thought it was curiosity on Marjorie's part about the
strange goings-on across the block, and Marjorie thought Larry
was interested by the bare female bottoms involved and not the
spanking per se. They were both wrong, and after Marjorie told
Larry about what happened to her when she got home that night
after watching Cindy's paddling, Larry kissed her rather
passionately, squeezed her hand and pressed her for details.
They quickly found that the one wanted to tell the story as much
as the other wanted to hear it. The two of them are enrolled at
different colleges right now, but one or the other makes the
drive over nearly every weekend, and at least twice each weekend
Marjorie feels the familiar mixture of dread and anticipation
before there is the waited-for knock on her door.
[ the end ]