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Spanking Stories - Shared SpankingBy Darla We lived in an upstairs flat, and the back of the house was devoted to my bedroom and my parents' room. The downstairs flat had had an addition built on...an extra bedroom...at the back of the house, and the roof of that room created a porch or deck off the upstairs bedrooms. My room had a window facing the "back porch" as we called it, and my parents' room had a door. We were forbidden to go put there...partly because the surface was not sufficiently strong to be used as a deck, and partly because it had no railing to stop a two story fall into the back yard. These sobering reasons, of course, stopped none of us kids from going out there when our parents weren't home. It was the summer of 1961. I was in love with Fabian, my best friend's name was Joanne, and I had only recently recovered from the shock of my younger brothers charging their friends a quarter to slog through my parents' room to peer out the door and look at "the monster". I had fallen asleep on the back porch wearing an oatmeal facial highly recommended by "Teen" magazine. It was a slow, sticky evening, humid as only Buffalo can be in August. Joanne and I had crawled out my bedroom window and were sitting with our backs to the sun warmed clapboards. We were both wearing the uniform of the summer...plaid shorts, tennies, and a white man's shirt culled from Dad's older ones. We were talking, as I recall, about the merits of Dennis Wright as opposed to Richard Sullivan, when I heard my father's voice much, much too close. We froze. I put my hand over Jo's mouth to silence her, and whispered that I wasn't supposed to be out here, and to keep quiet. My Dad's voice was very low and very firm, and I strained to hear what was going on. In a moment, I knew, and a shot of adrenaline knifed through my belly. My brother Tom's squeaky, quavery voice in response to my Dad's told the story. My heart pounded. Tom was going to be spanked for something, and Jo and I were trapped until it was over. We couldn't get back in through the window...it wouldn't stay open without being propped, so I had let it close (and automatically lock) figuring we could get back in through the door in my parents' room. We looked at each other, eyes huge, lips pressed tightly, both of us toying with the same thought at the same time. I let myself sort of tip over to the side, and wiggled my way to the door, Jo right beside me. We took up positions on either side of the solid aluminum bottom half, and craned our necks to get our eyes just up into the glass part. My Dad stood with his back to us, Tom in front and at a right angle to him. He had a hand on Tom's right shoulder, and was lecturing him in earnest. "How many times am I going to have to use this on you, young man, before you get it through your head that you cannot play hooky? You need an education! I will not have a son of mine disgrace me by not going to school and working hard when he gets there! Do I make myself clear?" "Yes, Sir," Tommy replied in a whisper. "Are you clear about how we are going to handle this?" "Yes, Sir," Tommy replied miserably. "And how are we going to do that, young man?" "I'm gonna get the strap?" The question was, of course, rhetorical, but there was always that quavery lilt at the end, as if one could possibly have misread the situation completely. "That's right. You're going to get the strap!" Dad looked up from Tom and onto the dresser top, where he had put the dreaded appliance. Jo and I were barely breathing. I should have felt odd about letting her watch, but I figured it was payback time...I had seen Jo's brother get it over their Mom's lap with a wooden spoon last year. Dad spun Tommy around and put a hand on his back, between the shoulder blades. "Bend over and put your hands flat on the chair seat!" Tom did as he was told, facing the armchair with the rose-patterned vinyl upholstery and the ruffle-edged heart-shaped back. His thin summer shorts were pulled tight across his chubby bottom, and, once in position, he found his voice. "Please, Dad, no, please I don't wanna get it I'm sorry Dad, please don't strap me, please don't...! OOOWWWW!" Tommy's soliloquy was interrupted by the crack of the strap across his upturned bottom. In a businesslike fashion, Dad delivered another nine, which had Tommy howling and pounding his feet on the hardwood floor. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Jo and I could almost hear each other's hearts pounding...I was afraid to look at her, I was weak with the strange feeling I had started having whenever bottoms and spankings were mentioned. We slumped against the door, panting a little with the secrecy and scariness of it all, waiting for the coast to clear. Tommy's wails were soon Dopplering down the hall and into his room, and when we heard my Dad's heavy footsteps clear the bedroom, we cautiously unfolded ourselves and sneaked silently in through the door. We tiptoed across the large, bottom portion of my parents' "L" shaped room, turned right at Dad's bureau, and walked right into Dad himself. He was standing, arms folded, in the doorway, neatly blocking our escape, making it impossible to claim we had come from anywhere but the back porch. He was still holding the strap. "I'll give you one chance to tell me what this is about, Dar. Make it good!" "Um, I'm sorry, Daddy, Jo and I, well, we went out there to talk, you know, away from the boys, and I let the window close, and then you came in with Tommy, and we couldn't..." "You were out there against my rules, and when I came in with Tommy, you couldn't own up to being out there, so you decided it would be all right to spy on your brother's punishment, and it would be ok for Joanne to watch too. Is that about it?" "Spy? No, Dad, we didn't, we wouldn't, I mean I wouldn't..." "Really? Funny, when I reached for the strap on the dresser and glanced up into the mirror, I could have sworn I saw two pairs of eyes behind me, staring right at your brother! Am I going blind? Darla?" Nausea doesn't begin to cover the feeling I had at that moment. Panic comes a little closer. For a brief, hysterical moment, I thought of turning around, crashing through the door, and throwing myself down onto the lawn, trusting the long summer grass and the kindness of Our Blessed Mother (whose statue reposed near the lilies-of-the-valley) to save my wretched life. As in that miserable dream, I wanted to run but my legs wouldn't move. "Both of you, sit down on the edge of the bed. Joanne, tell me your telephone number." Jo's mouth worked dryly for a bit, before she came up with "TR3-4567, Sir." "Stay here!" Ordered my Dad, and left the room. Jo and I didn't look at one another. We didn't move. We said nothing. We heard him in the kitchen, talking to someone at Jo's house. We heard his footsteps coming down the hall again. Jo started to cry, I glanced at her in horror. "Both of you are going to get a taste of what Tommy just got, do you understand me? I talked to Joanne's mother, and she agreed. You won't get it again when you get home, young lady," he said, looking at my cowering friend, "but let me tell you if you were my daughter and the situation was reversed, you would!" "Yes, Mr, Davidson," she whispered, not looking up. "Tommy!! TOM!!" he shouted. "NO, oh my God Daddy, no, please don't do that, Daddy, you can't..." "I CAN'T? Is that what you just said, Darla? I CAN'T?" He was palming the strap, looking furious, but sounding deadly calm. Tommy appeared in the doorway, looking as if he couldn't believe he had managed to earn another so soon. "Yes, Dad?" he rasped, worried. Dad turned to him and motioned him to the vinyl chair. "Tom, your sister and her friend were out on the back porch during your spanking, and they decided it was ok to watch. I have decided that it is ok for you to watch your sister and Joanne take the same punishment you got. Understand?" "Yes Sir!" said the little brat, his face shining like Christmas morning. He turned back to us. Jo was crying again, I was numb with humiliation. I was a seventh grader. I didn't get spanked that much anymore, and certainly not with my friend and my brother watching. I couldn't believe he would go through with it. "Stand up and turn around, both of you!" he ordered. We stood, on stiff legs, and faced the bed. "Each of you...take a pillow, put it at the edge of the bed, and bend over. Right NOW!!" We started, pulled the pillows into position, and bent over, our plaid summer shorts stretched as tightly as Tommy's had been, but providing a larger target, as we were heading into puberty and starting to fill out. I rested my burning face on the relatively cool surface of the bed. "Pull those shirt tails up out of the way...you don't get any more layers than Tommy had!" That's when my tears started. Utterly mortified, I reached back and inched the shirt up to my waist. I heard the slide of material next to me, and knew Jo was doing the same, though I couldn't look at her. Tommy snickered, and I knew Dad had shot him a look, because I heard him whisper "Sorry, Sir." "Ten each, same as Tommy got. Grab your fanny, or stand up, and you go over my knee for double. Understood?" "Yes, Sir," I sniffed. "Yes, Mr. Davidson," Jo whispered. "Hands stretched out on the bed in front of you, where I can see them. Good! Maybe you won't think spying is so much fun after this!" He raised the strap and brought it snapping down across my plaidness, reminding me in an instant how to yell and cry like a baby. Number two went to Jo, who screeched as if she had sat on a hot wire and burst into sobs. "That get your attention? Thinking of behaving from now on?" CRACK! CRACK! On and on it went, the strap alternately coming down hard across my bottom, then Jo's, until all licks had been accounted for. When it was over, he helped Jo up and told her to go wash her face and go home. I stayed where I was, sobbing my heart out, sorry for what I had done, but hoping to elicit his sympathy after all for what HE had done. He came and sat beside me, causing me to roll slightly toward his muscled thigh. He patted my hair. "Darla?" I didn't answer right away. "Dar!" "Yes, Daddy?" I turned to look up at him, my face streaked with tears. "You know you deserved that, don't you? For spying on Tommy. That was an awful thing to do." I really did feel ashamed, and my face got hot again. "Yes, Daddy." "But we have some unfinished business yet, don't we?" My heart stopped. "Daddy?" I asked tremulously. "You weren't supposed to be out on that back porch at all, were you?" "No sir." He patted my hair again. "No more right now. At bedtime, young lady, you are going to spend a little time across my knee, having your panties warmed. I want you to think about that, and about obedience. Maybe you're not quite as grown-up yet as you like to think you are!" He tossed the strap onto the dresser and left me there in a pile of fresh tears. Several years later I found out Tommy had made three dollars selling the story to his rat-like friends. Spanking Stories These links only include sites offering a range of Spanking stories. My own story site SPANKING STORIES contains additions to the main story pages below. |
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