by Quentin Quillis
My name is Carla. I was raised by parents who were strong believers in corporal punishment. It's fair to say that I was spanked on a fairly regular basis and usually by my mother. Many a time I was over her lap while she applied the business end of a wooden spoon to my rear end. Of course, they were delivered to my bare bottom and she was very thorough. There was no such thing as a few swats and then being sent to my room.
That hard object would have connected many, many times by the time she considered the spanking over. However, as bad as they were, the ones I really feared were from Dad. I hated it when she would say the dreaded words, "We'll see what your father has to say about this when he gets home."
She may have thought it was a cute euphemism for saying that I was in for another spanking later that evening, but I never saw the humor in it, and as I said, it was going to be a second spanking for the same offense. I was usually over her lap when she let me know the spanking she was about to give me was not going to clear the slate. Rather, it was just the beginning of my penance, and she never felt it necessary to go easy on me just because I was due for an extra long and very painful session with Dad that evening.
If anything, I think she would spank me harder so I would be exceptionally well prepared for the first kiss of the brush on my backside. That was his choice as the most effective implement. He would use my own well loved and very expensive hairbrush.
I got it as a present when I was very young and at first I was thrilled. It felt so grown up to brush my hair with it. However, it wasn't long before I found out it had other functions, and no matter how mature I thought I was, it could reduce me to a little girl getting a well earned spanking when it was wielded by Dad.
I still have it, and it feels so luxurious as it runs through my hair, but to this day I can't pick it up without remembering how many times it was in other hands and being used very effectively for its other purpose. I also have to chuckle when I think of yet a third method of utilizing my old friend, but I'll get to that later.
It wasn't only at home that my bottom and I would be on the receiving end of an attitude adjustment conference. I quite often stayed at my Aunt Joan's house when my parents went out of town. She wasn't really related, but was an old friend of the family and I always enjoyed myself when we visited her.
I should probably change that to read 'most of the time I enjoyed myself' since they had given her permission to punish me if I misbehaved. She exercised that option on more than one occasion, and was a very effective disciplinarian. Her normal routine was to take me up into her bedroom where I had to stand still while she either pulled my dress over my head or took my slacks off.
As I waited with nothing but my panties covering my bottom she would patiently explain why whatever it was I did was wrong (as if I didn't already know) and that she was going to spank me (another clear statement of the obvious). Then she would take my panties off and finally sit down.
Once I was satisfactorily positioned on her lap with my rear end raised high, she would use her hand for a very, very long time to make sure I understood the consequences of childish actions. Her spankings weren't like the ones I got from Mom or Dad, but the end results (and I'm speaking about my end) were not significantly different.
Her son Dave was older than me, but only by one month, and was also subject to special trips to her bedroom even when I was visiting. My presence didn't save him from receiving punishment when she thought he deserved it, and the fact that he was at home when I was to be spanked never concerned her either. I'm sure he was well aware of every spanking she gave me since he had to have heard me crying. I'm sure I was as loud as he was when it was his turn over her knee, and you could hear him all over the house.
I made the mistake of complaining about him knowing that I was being punished once, and she not only spanked me harder than normal, she said that was only the first half my allotment. Then she made me stand and wait while she opened the bedroom door. Now he would have no trouble hearing the sound of her hand slapping and my very vocal response to the second half of my punishment.
It was one of the longest spankings I remember getting from her. But even when the door was closed it was impossible not to know that at least one person in that room was not a happy camper, and listening to him get a good spanking was almost as effective as getting one myself when it came to being on my best behavior. The one with the hard hand was already in a mood to dole out punishment, and I didn't want to give her the slightest reason to find fault with me.
The visit that stands out the most in my memory occurred one of the times when my folks went on a 'just the two of them' vacation. I was eighteen years old, and felt I was capable of taking care of myself during their absence. They didn't see it that way so I was dutifully delivered to Aunt Joan again.
We all went out to a very nice restaurant, but I was in a real snit. First of all because I thought they were treating me like a child, but mostly because I wanted to go with them on the trip. I was very rude to everyone, including the waiter. They had to leave for the airport soon after we got back to Aunt Joan's house, but not so soon that they were unwilling to delay their departure while I was marched off to the guest room for some quality time with Dad.
Unfortunately, I had packed my hairbrush and he knew it. Once it was out of the suitcase and in his hand I was doomed. The silly concept that I could be too old to get a spanking was not one they espoused, and to be honest, it was so much a part of my normal discipline that I never questioned it.
He sat down and I moved to his side. I unsnapped my jeans and had to push them down before lying over his lap. He finished my preparation by pulling my panties down and my transformation from a semi-mature young lady to a sorry little girl was complete.
As was usually the case, from the moment I knew I was to be punished I wasn't too happy about what was to come, but that night was even worse. It had been a while since I had gotten my last spanking from Aunt Joan, and knowing that she, and especially Dave, were going to hear me was an extra special humiliation.
I had no illusion that I would be stoic and not cry and screech during the process. I knew all too well what to expect and he didn't disappoint anyone. Even though the waiting was terrible, I always wished I could go back to the anticipation rather than the reality as soon as his first stroke landed. Actually, the word 'landed' isn't quite accurate. There was nothing subtle about his spankings. From the very beginning, the hairbrush slammed into my rear end, and if I held my voice at all, it wasn't for more than one or two swats at the most.
His purpose was to inflict pain, and my function was to learn from it, and there was nothing phony about my letting him and the whole world know how very well he and the hairbrush were fulfilling their part of the bargain. He used it to give me his opinion of my performance, and he used it well for a very long time. I was hoarse by the time he decided this lesson in manners was over, but my throat was the least of my concerns.
He sent me to stand in the corner and said I was to stay there until they left the house, and only then could I put on my pajamas and go to bed. My only consolation was that Mom didn't get her chance to give me her preparation spanking, although, to my rear end it didn't much matter. I was still crying when I fell asleep.
The next morning I sat down rather gingerly at breakfast. Dave had a funny smirk on his face and Aunt Joan just nodded in satisfaction at my discomfort.
She said, "That looks like a girl who has a sore bottom. And this won't be the last meal where you find the chair somewhat uncomfortable. Your parents were very disappointed in the way you acted last night and so was I. The punishment your father gave you was well deserved, but that's not going to be the end of it. Your mother really wanted to spank you also but there wasn't enough time to do the job right. However, she asked me to make up for your loss and give you one on her behalf today. Your father also wants me to give you a repeat of his spanking later in the week so you'll remember how to behave when they come home. In addition to those two spankings, they said I could punish you for the embarrassment you caused my family in my own way. It doesn't portend to be a pleasant visit for you, but you only have yourself to blame. I hate to make you wait, but I have to go to work. Time is on your side again, but I won't be so rushed tonight. You can count on getting a very long reminder of how to act in public from me then. However, as part of your punishment for embarrassing Dave and me, I think a little humility is in order. Until I'm satisfied that you've learned a few social graces there's no reason you should be dressed for travel outside of these walls. You may wear panties and a bra but nothing else until I decide that your behavior has improved."
I was flabbergasted and almost speechless, but I managed to say, "I can't walk around like that." I pointed to Dave and added, "He'll see me."
She was not sympathetic to my concerns and then shattered them completely. "I wouldn't worry about him seeing you in your underwear too long. He's going to see even more. He was planning going out with his friends last night. It was something he was really looking forward to, but he chose to spend the evening with you and your family. Instead of the good time we all envisioned we had to be embarrassed by your childish actions. I'm sure he wishes he had chosen to spend the evening with them instead of a brat like you, so I think he deserves a role in seeing that you don't ever act that way again. The spanking I'm going to give tonight is from your mother, and I've decided to let him punish you for the humiliation you caused me."
I couldn't believe my ears. I stammered, "You don't me he's going to ... that you're going to let him ..."
She nodded and said, "Yes. That's exactly what I mean. He is going to spank you tonight also, and I've already told him I want it to be a very good one."
I knew better that to try and argue with her, but I had to register at least one complaint. "Can't he spank me tomorrow night? I remember how well you've spanked me in the past. I'm not sure I can possibly endure another one after yours."
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