by Carly Burton
Philippa thought it wasn't entirely surprising the way the evening eventually turned out. Sam, the new man in her life, was a mature man and not a mere boy as her previous boyfriends had been. Philippa was 19, often shy in large groups of people, nervous in situations she wasn't comfortable with, but was also volatile when she became angry. Her temper could simmer for ages and then finally build to boiling point and erupt, or it could rise from nothing to explosion in minutes. She was an overindulged and only child, born late in her parents' marriage after three miscarriages had almost denied them a child at all.
Sam was the youngest of five, with three older brothers and a sister who enjoyed the central position with two brothers either side of her in age. They were a close knit family, the siblings all having a good relationship, despite, or maybe because both parents had died several years ago. At 24, Sam had grown up under the guidance and discipline of his parents and older siblings. He had at times found it annoying to be under authority no matter who was responsible for him at the time. There were six years between him and his next brother, with two years between each of the others, and the eldest was 36; so he had always been the baby and probably the worst behaved of all the children. That meant he was spanked throughout his childhood by every member of his family whenever he needed it, and unfortunately, that was quite often. Eventually, as he matured into an older teenager, he had learned that actions had consequences, and he turned out to be a responsible and well-behaved young man.
Philippa had been shocked when Sam had mentioned the fact that spanking had been a regular occurrence in his family, as she had never been spanked in her life. Her childish outbursts of temper or naughtiness had been overlooked and never properly dealt with by either parent. They believed the situation was best left to diffuse itself, after a mild telling off. This was precisely why Philippa had never learned to control herself, as she had run free all her life without consequences.
The conversation was instigated by her first angry outburst in his company, and Sam was convinced that she needed some corporal punishment to cure her bad behaviour. His stern expression at her show of temper had been enough to get her attention, and his threat to put her over his knee had rendered her speechless. She remembered the conversation explicitly.
"Philippa, if you don't get your temper under control immediately, I will have no option but to put you over my knee and spank your bare bottom," he had told her, regarding her with a steely expression on his face.
Her initial shock had been followed by a nervous giggle and profuse blushing that overtook her face and neck, especially at the 'bare bottom' portion of his threat. His expression hadn't softened at all as his eyes had bored into hers, as if daring her to challenge him. Her mouth had gaped, opening and closing without any words emerging, such was her indecision as to how to respond.
Correctly guessing the direction her thoughts were going, he responded.
"If you are in any doubt that I'm serious, just carry on with your temper tantrum and see what will happen to you," he said, his words even and controlled.
She had swallowed nervously, nibbled her top lip, and returned his gaze until she became too intimidated to continue the eye contact, dropping her head. He had stepped towards her and pulled her unresisting form into an embrace, his hands roving across her back, moving lower until he cupped her bottom cheeks in his hands. Her intake of breath as he squeezed her cheeks suggestively, made her eyes fly up to meet his again.
"Naughty girls of any age deserve to be bent over a man's knee to have their bare bottom spanked until they learn to behave themselves. Do I need to teach you such a lesson?" he had asked, as if it was a run of the mill question.
"No Sam, I'll behave," she had whispered, breathless with fear, or was it excitement? She had to admit, a certain part of her anatomy was reacting in a peculiar fashion to his dominant threat, despite the fact that she was horrified at the prospect of being bent over his knee to have her bottom first bared, then spanked.
He had released her and they had continued as if nothing untoward had occurred, her temper rather surprisingly, even to herself, fully under control, though her mind was in a turmoil. Had she just been threatened with a real spanking? Was he truly serious?
It was much later that she had dared to ask him about the seriousness of his threat, and he had assured her that he was deadly serious. He went on to explain how his parents had spanked each of their children, over their knee by hand or paddle, or bending over the back of the sofa for a more serious dose of the strap. He confessed that each of his older brothers and his sister had permission from his parents to spank him while growing up. Punishments were always a family affair, with everyone who was around invited to witness the shame of the miscreant, intended as a deterrent.
He even admitted that his brothers all spanked their wives, and his sister was spanked by her husband, even now, as adults if they deserved it. Her shock was complete, but she dare not ask for further details, despite the fact that she was both excited and horrified by the revelation. The subject wasn't discussed again, and wasn't relevant until that fateful evening when the family all got together in Sam's brother's house.
There were several children in the family, his eldest brother Charles and his wife Eva had a son and daughter aged 12 and 14. James and Erica had twin girls aged 10. Beverly and Kieran had a son aged eight, and Edward and Jo had a six-year-old son.
Philippa was always a little reticent in a crowd; she had happily met each of his brothers and their wives separately, also his sister and her husband, but not all of them together. There was a distinct camaraderie between them all, but she felt like an outsider. It seemed as if the more they tried to engage her in a conversation, the more she retreated and became morose. Philippa could quite easily relate to the children, and she knew she would have coped better had they not all been at a party with the children who lived next door to his brother.
Sam had whispered in her ear, enquiring if there was a problem, but she had denied anything was wrong, smiling weakly in an attempt to reassure him she was okay.
Each family member tried to reach her, trying different things to coax a positive response, and every one of them failed. Sam became angry, especially as his brothers and his sister were giving him 'the look' which he was familiar with: a warning that things were getting out of hand and urging him to do something about it.
Finally, he sighed heavily, stood up and grasped Philippa's hand, pulling her upright. He then propelled her through the door and into the kitchen. Her eyes were wide with alarm as he turned her to face him.
"Philippa, you're not being very cooperative with my family; in fact, you're being downright rude," he admonished sternly. "I've asked you if there is anything wrong, and you denied it. Is there anything you want to tell me?"
She eyed him moodily. How dare he berate her like this?
"They don't like me, I'm an outsider, I don't fit in and I want to go home," she demanded, rather like a petulant child, even to the point of stamping her foot in temper.
"That is simply not true. Everyone has tried to make you welcome, but you haven't responded, shutting them all out as if you're too good for them."
"Sam, I just can't..."
He looked her in the eye, his own eyes glittering dangerously.
"If I take you home, we're finished. Family is very important to me, and if you won't interact with them, we have no future. Is that what you want?" he asked, his temper firmly under control.
Her mouth flew open in shock, tears moistening her eyes.
"No... Sam, no, it's not," she whimpered, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her short dress, panic welling up inside her at the prospect of losing him.
"So, I'll tell you what's going to happen then. I'm going to motivate you to respond to my family. Meaning I'll put you over my knee right now and spank your bottom for being so silly." He paused to let his remarks fully sink in.
Her face went pale then transformed as a blush rose from her neck and climbed all the way up to her ears. Her gasp of shock, even though he'd threatened this action previously, was muffled by her hands flying to cover her mouth. Her insides were doing strange things as horror and excitement battled for supremacy.
She didn't agree. But she didn't argue or refuse him either. She simply stood, rooted to the spot as he studied her reaction, her expression difficult to read.
Fight or flight? Or take her medicine? Her inner turmoil swirled around and caused chaos within her. She really liked Sam, respected him and his family. She envied the close bond they shared. But could she let him spank her? With the rest of the family within earshot? All the wives in the lounge were subject to being spanked, this she knew, but that didn't mean she was happy to share their fate. How could she re-join them after Sam had spanked her in the kitchen?
"I'm waiting," he urged her, patiently.
The dominance in his entire being was making her wet with anticipation, a frisson of sensation delighting her nerve endings without even the slightest touch. She swallowed, looked him straight in the eye, took a deep breath and faced him. This was the moment of truth, she must either let him spank her, right here, right now, with his family listening from the next room, or ask him to take her home and they would part company forever.
He watched her intently, hoping that she would agree to his demands. He really liked her, already had deep, protective feelings for her, and could see a definite future for them, if only she would submit to being spanked. He had no idea at that point whether she would submit to him or not. He refused to consider the possibility that this was the end of the road for them as a couple, but he didn't have any real clue as to her decision... only hope she'd make the right one.
Philippa stood her ground and studied the man standing before her; the man who wanted to turn her over his knee and spank her bare bottom. An almost hysterical giggle escaped her lips before she regained control of her muddled senses. She faced him, opened her mouth and gave him her answer.
"Okay," she murmured, dropping her eyes to the floor.
He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze, needing clarification as to which option she was agreeing to.
"Okay to what exactly?"
A groan escaped her lips that had become dry with the tension between them; she moistened them with her tongue, unaware of the effect that small movement had on him.
His loins tightened as he regarded her.
She cursed him inwardly for making her say the words.
"Okay... you can... spank me," she muttered, a hint of resentment in her tone.
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