Suzie Gets
A
Spanking
"Suzie! Come into the
house this instant, young lady!"
Anxiety clutched at my
insides at the tone of her voice. Clearly my
little sister was in Big Trouble of some
sort. After a few moments, I could hear
Suzie scurry in the back door. "LOOK at
you!" scolded Mom angrily, "You have dirt
and grass stains all down your front!" My
anxious tension increased. What was going to
happen next? "What do you have to say for
yourself, young lady?!"
Suzie answered in a
faint, pleading little voice; I could not
make out her words. Feeling a mixture of
sympathy for Suzie's plight and a guilty
fascination with watching her punishment, if
she received it, I crept quietly to the
kitchen doorway while Mom continued to
scold. When I got to the doorway and peered
in, Mom was pulling up one of the kitchen
chairs and sitting down to face my sister,
still telling her what a naughty girl she
had been to soil the dress Mommy had worked
so hard to make. Suzie was standing with her
hands pasted across it's seat and squirming
with anxious unease. She has blue eyes and
chestnut brown hair, which were cut short in
bangs in front with the rest tied back that
day with a pretty yellow bow to match her
dress. Her dress had short, puffy sleeves
and a ruffly white bodice, upon which grass
stains and grime were visible. I never found
out what game she and the other children had
been playing, but it clearly had involved
her being face-down in the grass.
Suzie was
on the verge of tears, her lower lip
quivering and her eyes moist. She kept
saying "I'm sorry, Mommy. I didn't mean
it! I'm sorry!" while Mom admonished
her, until at last Mom said, "Well you're
going to be a whole LOT sorrier in a
minute!" and hoisted Suzie face-down across
her lap. Suzie cried, "NO-O-O!" and began to
blubber as she was placed into the
all-too-familiar spanking position. Through
our back window, the face of the boy next
door appeared, peeking in from the back yard
to watch what was happening. But our mother
noticed and ordered him to go home. He
vanished from sight. Turning her attention
back to Suzie, Mom said, "You have DISGRACED
yourself, young lady," in a terse, clipped
tone. Glancing back at the window again to
make sure there was no audience, she pulled
up Suzie's skirt, adding, "You are going to
be spanked severely!" Suzie continued to
weep, only able to stammer the words "no"
and "please" as our mother turned up her
petticoat as well.
I was
almost faint from suspense, wishing this
weren't happening, yet filled with a strong
need to watch every detail and commit it to
memory. Although the spectacle before my
eyes was utterly distasteful to me at that
moment, I knew that at bedtime that night I
would be guiltily scouring my memory banks
for this image of Suzie across our mother's
lap being bared for her spanking. The
intensely pleasurable excitement would fill
me with shame, yet I could never resist the
temptation to indulge. I always strove to
commit to memory every spanking I ever
received or watched.
"Put your
knees together!" commanded Mom in a sharp
tone. Suzie's legs were spread, which would
have made it impossible for Mom to pull her
panties down very far. Impatiently, she
repeated the command, but still Suzie
balked. SMACK! went Mom's open hand
against the inner part of Suzie's bare
left thigh. "OW-WOW-OW!" cried my sister as
the aftereffect of Mom's slap throbbed and
smarted. Again Mom ordered Suzie to put her
knees together, and, when my sister didn't obey,
she slapped Suzie's bare thigh again on
the same spot . Suzie let out a tearful wail
of pain, and I could see the beginnings of a
red handprint forming on Suzie's milky skin
from the first slap. This time, she
obediently clamped her knees shut. With a
quick, smooth motion, Mom yanked Suzie's
panties halfway down her thighs,
covering the reddening handprint and
uncovering Suzie's bare bottom in the
process. Then she immediately raised her
hand and began swiftly slapping my sister's
small, supple buttocks.
Suzie
winced and took a deep breath as the first
few swats resounded against the pale skin
of her bare bottom. Then she began to
bawl with pain. The first couple seconds of
her spanking sounded like: SMACK! SMACK!
SMACK! SMACK! WAAAAAAAAAAAH! From then on,
Suzie alternated between long howls and deep
heaving sobs, punctuated all the while by
the crisp, steady cracks of hard palm
meeting soft flesh. Mom's lips were still
pursed with displeasure, but now her brow
was also knit with either concentration or
exertion. She did not let up, but continued
to slap Suzie's little upturned cheeks with
that same driving rhythm. Our mother firmly
believed that spankings should HURT. And
believe me, they did! She slapped Suzie's
bare buttocks again and again - five...
ten... fifteen... twenty... - driving her
sting level higher and higher, while
Suzie wailed with ever mounting urgency.
Although no more children tried to spy on
the proceedings, they were surely all still
out there, listening in hushed silence to
every sound coming through our screen door.
I
felt terribly sorry for my little sister. I
knew all too well what Suzie was going
through, having experienced too many of our mother's bottom
blisterings myself. Meanwhile, Suzie did not
need anyone else to tell her what a
"spanking from Mommy" felt like. She was
squirming and kicking from her knees down as
her inflamed, little backside turned deeper
and deeper shades of pink. Mom pressed her
left hand down on the small of Suzie's back
to hold Suzie as still as possible while
continuing to swat her scorched little
cheeks as relentlessly as before. From my
own experiences across our mother's lap, I
guessed that by now Suzie was not even
perceiving the sensations of distinct
slaps, but rather a continuous searing burn
as if scalding liquid were being splashed
over every inch of her bottom. She certainly
sounded like it. Suzie was crying really
hard, her eyes clamped shut, her face
flushed, and her mouth opened wide, as Mom
spanked and spanked and spanked her sore,
reddened bottom.
Abruptly,
our mother stopped spanking, pulled Suzie's
little panties back up and smoothed her
dress and slip back down into position while
she continued to cry. Then, Mom lifted Suzie
up, stood up herself, set my bawling little
sister down in the chair, and then went to
the sink and turned on the faucet. (Perhaps
she was running cold water on her hand, but
I couldn't see). While she did this, Suzie
slouched farther and farther down in the
chair as she cried, until she slumped down
onto the cool tile floor and lay there on
her side, still sobbing piteously and
rubbing her rear end. After a few moments,
when Mom turned around and saw her like
that, she strode swiftly across the room,
exclaiming, "You get up off that floor this
instant! You bad girl!" To my dismay,
Mom knelt, took hold of Suzie under the
arms, and then in a single motion, sat down
in the chair and placed Suzie face-down
across her lap once again. Suzie wailed with
alarm as she realized what was about to
happen, and tried to shield her bottom with
her hands. But Mom took hold of Suzie's
wrists with her left hand and pinned them
firmly against Suzie's back. "Now you've
gotten your dress even dirtier!" scolded our
mother as she angrily whisked my sister's
skirts back up and tugged down her panties
once again. Suzie's well-spanked buttocks
had blushed an even deeper shade of crimson
by now, but Mom proceeded to give the two
smarting little hemispheres over half a
dozen hard, emphatic slaps in rapid
succession, while poor Suzie roared with
pain. This time, after Mom once again pulled
Suzie's panties back up and sat her down in
the chair, Suzie remained seated while her
crying gradually died down..
I had
crept back into the living room and
collapsed into the armchair, feeling
exhausted, as the sound of my sister's
crying continued to waft in from the
kitchen. When Suzie had finally quieted,
they had a mother-daughter talk, with
Mom stressing the importance of being
a good girl, playing nicely and keeping her
dress clean, and Suzie, between sniffles,
promising earnestly to do so.
(c)
Handprince, 2005
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