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Subject: The World is Changing


Author:
Marek
[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]
Date Posted: 08:45:44 04/14/17 Fri

"Hey, Mom?"
I turned around when my daughter called.
"Yes, Sandy?"
"How come you don't spank me?"
I blinked. "Huh?"
"We had a PE today, and Kate had red butt when she undressed. She said that her mom spanked her the morning before school. And, well, then the other girls started telling how their parents spank them... you know, for bad grades, or for acting out... I felt a bit left out."
"Well, you don't have bad grades," I said. "And you don't really act out."
"But I'm a teenager! Aren't teenagers supposed to act out?"
"It's not really a hard rule," I said. "You are a smart kid, and well-adjusted. I'm actually a bit proud at how few problems we have."
She shuffled her legs. "So you never had a reason to spank me?"
I laughed a bit. "Your dad spanked you a few times when you were little."
"I don't remember that. I hardly remember Dad, really."
"Anyway, after his death, you just... you were good."
She nodded. "Well, you see... I always knew that you try so much. You had to get a second job to raise me, and I... I guess I wanted to help you any way I could. So I tried to be good so I wouldn't add more problems for you."
"As I said, you're a smart kid."
"Yes, but..."
I smiled. "You'd like to be more like the other teens?"
"I guess. To blend in a little bit better, you know."
"And they are all spanked?"
"Well, maybe not ALL of them... but a lot of them. And not often, just when they do something really bad or stupid."
"Well, I thought spanking is really not used that often as it used to, Sandy. I mean, I got spanked in my teens... a few times... but it really doesn't make much sense these days."
"Why?"
I thought about it. "Well, a spanking -- any punishment, really -- is done to force a child to conform. There are rules, and when you step outside of those rules, you get punished, so the next time, you stay inside them. Now, why do you think that is?"
She thought about that. "So the parents could mold the child into something they want?"
"Yes, exactly. And in the past, that made lots of sense. People led the same lives, generation after generation. You wanted your children to lead the same life as you, to support you, to have the same values as you because if they were as well-adjusted as you were, then they would fit into the society as well as you did. Into the static, changeless society. But then..."
"Then the society changed."
"Exactly. I live differently than my mother did, and my mother lived differently than my grandmother did. And you live in a world that's very different from the one I used to grow up in. It's not just that the world changed, it's that I really have no idea what kind of behavior or values you will need to fit in it. So there's really no point in using harsh punishments to force you along a particular paths. You are better equipped to know which path is best for you than I am."
"Yes, but the thing is..."
"Yes, Sandy?"
"The girls asked Kate why she was spanked and she said it was because she got a D on a math test. So I asked her if she's spanked for every D, and she said that no, just for math and geography. She told me that she had bad grades in those subjects for a while and wanted to improve them, so she asked her parents to spank her for D or worse."
I blinked. "SHE asked them?"
"Yeah. And it turned out a few other girls does that as well. Basically, instead of the parents spanking them for whatever they want, they decide where they need improvement and ask them to punish them. The parents are there to be strict with them, to help them get the extra willpower. It's all the rage at the school nowadays."
"Really?" I mused. "I must say that I never heard of anything like that."
"Well, it's like you said; the world is changing. I mean, they are 13, 14, but they already know which college they want to go to. They are dedicated. And they are spanked on their own terms, for things they WANT be spanked for."
"So you want to try that too?"
"I... I'm really not sure," she admitted. "I mean, it's... fun to think about, you know, sometimes. But of course, it's pretty scary when you think about it."
"Well," I smiled, "It's a long time since I was spanked, but I still remember enough to give you a good demonstration if you want."
This made Sandy visibly nervous. The theoretical discussion has turned unpleasantly real, but I know my daughter. She wouldn't even start it if she wasn't ready for this possibility.
"Now," I said, "would you like to hear how I was spanked?"
She nodded. She seemed fascinated.
"All right," I nodded.

"You see, my parents weren't despotic or something," I started. "There was enough discussions in our family, up until the point when they decided I should get spanked. Once they decided THAT, there was no coming back -- and I knew that so I wasn't really prone to arguing. I could argue with them beforehand, but once they told me that I'm getting spanked -- or they didn't even have to tell me, the look was enough -- I just gave up."
"And what happened then?"
"Well, they decided who was going to do it. We didn't have that thing 'Wait until your father comes home, young lady,' they always decided together. I mean, there were times when I said something stupid to Mom and I just KNEW, right then, that my bottom is going to pay for that, but even then, she didn't say anything and waited until Dad come home to discuss it with him. And you know what? Sometimes she didn't even do that. She stopped being angry before he came home. Thinking about it, I got away with saying some things I probably shouldn't have."
"Mom? You got sidetracked."
"Right, of course. So: If Mom was up to the duty, there were three degrees. First degree -- she just grabbed me and pulled me over my lap right there, usually in the kitchen, and smacked my bottom. No pulling down my pants -- do they still do that? I mean, are your friends spanked on their bare bottoms?"
Sandy nodded. "Yes, they are. Kate says that it's safer because if her parents see her bottom, they won't accidentally bruise her or anything. Plus, they've seen her naked plenty of times so there's no reason to be embarrassed."
"So it's not even embarrassing for her?"
"Well, she said that she's always REALLY embarrassed, actually. There's no reason for it, but she still is. So you weren't spanked bare, Mom?"
"Oh, I was, just not at the first degree. That was just lying there and getting smacked on top of my pants. It hardly hurt, to be honest, but I still sobbed a cried a bit. Of course, to be honest, the first degree was mainly when I was smaller. It didn't see much use in my teens."
"And second degree was a bare-bottom spanking?"
"Well, yes. I usually wore pants and it would be a hassle to get those down when I was over Mom's lap, so I had to pull them down myself. That wasn't pleasant, I can tell you that! I always knew that I deserve it, but taking down my pants? It's just a terrible thing to do, and of course you know that it's just a prelude to something much worse. I usually started to cry when I was doing that. And once they were down -- I tried to protract it a bit, of course -- Mom pulled me over her lap and took down my panties. I squealed as she did that."
I couldn't help but smile at that memory.
"I kicked my legs a bit as I was lying there, but then Mom's hand started to work on my bottom and there was really nothing I could do but cry. I think she spanked longer and harder when I kicked or thrashed about, so I tried really hard not to."
"How many swats did you get?"
"Hm, it was never really specified. Kate gets a specific number?"
"Yeah, she usually gets 25 smacks for a D, and 40 for F. But some other girls have it arranged differently. Charlotte says that she just gets a spanking -- and it's her parents' decision how hard or how long it will be. Kate told me that her parents are actually a bit too lenient -- so she had to set a specific number of swats just to be sure that it will be a proper spanking."
This seemed quite surprising to me.
"Was your bottom red?"
"Oh yes, very. I always ran to the bathroom after Mom was done -- I usually left my pants crumpled on the kitchen floor if they fell off while I was spanked, that happened quite often -- and I locked myself in there, washed my face to get the tears off, and watched my bottom in the mirror. And it was really red. Dad sometimes teased me that it looks like a tomato."
"So that was the second degree. How about third?"
"That was when she just gave me this look and told me to get the spoon."
"The spoon?"
"The wooden spoon. I mean, we were usually in the kitchen, she was right there, but she still made me get it. That's when she was really angry with me and REALLY wanted to punish me. I started sobbing right away, then I looked at my dad. And he usually just gave a little shrug or shook his head, like 'Sorry, kiddo, you got in this mess and now you have to bear the consequences.' But sometimes -- very rarely, but sometimes -- he stood up and put a hand on Mom's shoulder and told her 'You are way too angry to do this. I'll take care of it.' And then I got a Dad spanking, which was usually worse than from Mom, but not when the spoon was involved. Once I was sent for the spoon, I literally always hoped that I will be able to get it reduced to 'just' a Dad spanking."
"What kind of spoon was it?"
"Well, if I had to describe it in one word, it would be 'evil'. Or at least 'nasty'. We had several spoons, but this one was very big and it was actually not used much for actual cooking. Once per year, Mom made her special jam from strawberries and red currants; that was the only time she actually used that spoon to stir something. The rest of the year, it was just there to smack my bottom."
I shuddered, even after all those years.
"It was originally brown, but it was stained almost black by all those years of jam-stirring. And it was the one thing in the world I really feared. Once, I tried to be 'cute' and when Mom told me to bring her the spoon, I took out the smallest, flimsiest wooden spoon I could find, and Mom gave me this angry look, and I said 'What? You didn't tell me WHICH spoon, did you?' Oh, that was one of the worst mistakes in my life, I can tell you that. She got up and she got the spanking spoon and then I got the longest spanking of my life with it... Actually, my bottom was really bruised afterwards and in the end, Dad just stepped in and yanked the spoon out of Mom's hand and I was crying hysterically but I still remember him saying: 'That's enough.' He said it in this really cold voice, it was so strict that I stopped crying right away. You always hear about those tough guys, right? 'Their voice could silence a crying child.' That's what happened then. I stopped crying and Mom let me go and she seemed really scared. Afterwards, she came to my room and actually apologized. She said she lost her temper and she shouldn't have done that -- though she still said that I got what I had coming, so I guess it wasn't that much of an apology. But since then, when it got bad enough for me to be sentenced to the spoon, I knew that I should just get it as fast as possible if I want to be able to sit the next day."
"Did it really hurt that much?"
"Well, first of all, yes, it did, and second of all, it wasn't just that, it was the whole ritual. I got the spoon, then I had to hand it to Mom, then I had to pull down my pants like during the second-degree spanking. Actually, when Mom thrashed me with the spoon that one time, she was so angry she didn't even bother to pull my pants down -- maybe that's why I got so badly bruised, she couldn't see what she was doing. Kate actually has a good idea with those bare-bottom spankings, they ARE safer."
I was surprised to find a tear in my eye. Was it nostalgia, or maybe long-forgotten fear?
"And then?" asked Sandy eagerly.
"When I got a second-degree spanking, I just pulled down my pants, and then Mom turned me over her lap and bared my bottom. Not so with the third degree. She just sat there with the spoon and frowned at me, and I had to pull down my panties myself and I had to go over her lap myself. And once I did, once I flopped over that lap, she just started to tear into me with that wooden spoon and I started to howl and scream something awful. It was like I wanted to channel the pain out through my voice, though of course that never actually worked. At least those spankings were usually over quickly. Mom stood me up, and I clutched my bottom and cried and cried and then I ran to the bathroom, naked from the waist down."
"Wow," said Sandy. "Just... I can't believe Grandma could be that brutal."
"She had temper," I said. "And don't take it wrong, it's not like this happened often. Nin cases out of ten, I got just the second degree. The third was maybe... three, four times? Throughout all my teenage years. Not more."
"So, if you got second degree nine times out of ten, that means... you got spanked thirty or forty times when you was a teenager?"
"Well, you know, teen years are quite a long time," I mumbled. I have never realized it before. Was I really spanked so often?
"So you've been spanked ALL your teen years? Until you were 19?"
"No, 17 actually. I got drunk in the school lavatory, with a few other friends. Each of us brought something to drink, some took it from home, some shoplifted... You see, we planned to drink just a little bit during the recess, but we lost track of time and missed a class. So then they started to look for us... Actually, the headmistress almost expelled me that time."
"She wanted to expel you just for drinking? At seventeen?"
"No, she actually wanted to expel me for throwing all over her when she found us there."
Sandy burst laughing. "What?!"
"Hey, there's a reason I never told you this story before."
"And that got you your last spanking?"
"Yup, my last spanking from my parents, and it was a memorable one."
"You got a third degree?"
"Well, actually, no. In the evening, I was still feeling terrible, both physically and mentally. Mom wanted to give me the spoon, but Dad said no, he said that I have been punished enough. And I smiled in relief, and then he said 'For today. But we are going to have a talk about this tomorrow.' And that was it. I knew there was no way out and that there will be a special Dad spanking."
"How did a Dad spanking look?"
"First of all, it was more serious, more formal. We were usually in the kitchen when I got sentenced, and he took my arm and said 'Well, Princess, let's go.' And I just gave this little nod and walked to my room and he walked after me. And we both sat on my bed and he scolded me and I just held onto him and sobbed and I wanted him to stop scolding me and I also wanted him to never stop scolding me because I knew that once he stops, it's spanking time."
For some reason, memories of Dad were much warmer than those of Mom.
"So then he told me to get ready. It was usually late and I knew that he wants me to get ready for bed. I went to the bathroom and got cleaned up and got my nightgown on, and the whole time I was thinking about the spanking I was going to get. I pulled it over my bottom and I always thought 'Why do I even bother? It's going to be raised up right away!' But I still did it and I walked back to my room, quietly, no fussing, because I wanted Dad to know that I'm a big girl and that I'm not going to give him any trouble."
I ruffled Sandy's hair. "And now I have a big girl on my own... such a big girl!"
"Mom!" she protested, a bit embarrassed.
"Oh, sorry. Anyway, I came back, and Dad was sitting on my bed and his left sleeve was rolled up -- he was left-handed and he always rolled it up before spanking me. He asked if there's anything more I want to say -- like if I have any last words -- and I just shook my head and I went over his lap. And then I felt cold on my bottom when he raised my nightgown, and then I felt hot on my bottom when he started to spank me. He only used his hand, but his hand was much bigger and stronger than Mom's hand so it hurt a lot more. Worse than the second degree, but not as much as the third degree. And I was trying to be a big girl and not cry, but there was no use. I always cried. And it always felt like forever, until, suddenly, it was over and he lifted me up and hugged me and I hugged him and I nuzzled his face and his beard prickled and tickled and once I stopped crying, I started to giggle. You see, Sandy, Mom's spanking were... impersonal, but with Dad, there was this special connection. Like I was Dad's little girl but I had to go through the spanking to really earn that honor, and I was always proud that I got through the spanking without fussing -- though, really, I never actually did that."
"And he spanked you like this when you got drunk?"
"Well, that was a bit worse. He came to my room in the morning, before he went to work, woke me up and asked how I was doing. And, you know, I was feeling fine. But I knew that I could easily lie to him and tell him that I'm still sick, and he would go to work and my bottom would be safe until the evening."
"And did you lie?"
"No. I told him that I'm OK. And I even told him that I know I deserve a spanking and that I want to get it over with right away. Really, that was probably one of the bravest things I ever did. And he nodded and then he just pulled me out of bed and took me over his lap. I think he spanked me especially long and hard that time."

"All right," I said when I finished the story of my last parental spanking. "So, Sandy, which of these would you like to try out?"
"Huh? Try out?"
"Well, sure," I said. "That's what this whole thing is about, isn't it? You'd like to try a spanking?"
"I said I wasn't sure if I want to try it."
"Well, you might not be, but I am sure. I think it will be a great learning moment for you. And remember, once it's decided that you're going to get a spanking, there is no way back."
"But I didn't... I..."
"Yes?"
She looked down. "I guess."
"Right, and I want you to know that I'm not angry with you and this is not a punishment or anything, it's strictly to let you decide whether this is something you'd like to pursue further. So, with that in mind, what kind of spanking would you like to try?"
She hesitated. "Well, I mean, if we're going to do this, it should be a... a good spanking, right? So, not the first degree... but I am really scared after waht you said about that spoon, so not third degree either... and Dad is gone, so I can't get a Dad spanking..."
"No," I interrupted her. "You can definitely get a Dad spanking! It's not about who gives it to you, it's more about the whole approach."
"I can really get one?"
"Yup!"
"I... I'd like to try that," she admitted and blushed. "But it's still early. Would I have to get into my PJs?"
"Yes," I said, "That's an essential part of a Dad spanking. But don't worry, you won't have to go to bed afterwards. You can hang out in your PJs for the rest of the day."
She smiled.
I got up and took her arm. "Well, then, come on, Sandy."
"No, not like that," she protested.
"Not like what?"
"Granddad called you 'Princess', didn't he?"
"Yes... funny, he only called me that when he was about to spank me."
"So call me like that as well."
"Fine... Princess. It's time."
"OK!"

It was funny to observe Sandy walking to her room. Sometimes she skipped like she was thrilled, then, in the next moment, she was dragging her feet. She was looking forward to this, and she was also dreading this.
As for me, I was only looking forward to this. I wouldn't spank her too hard, but she was going to get a good lesson in what spanking is and how much it hurts.
And so I held Sandy's hand and led her to her room. I sat on her bed and pulled her towards me.
"What's next?" she asked nervously.
"Well, now we hug and I'll scold you."
"But you can't scold me -- I haven't done anything!"
"Well, you haven't, but that doesn't mean I can't scold you. How long has this been going on, Sandy... uh, Princess?"
"How long has what been going on?"
"I don't really think you started getting interested in spankings because you saw Kate's butt today. I think you've been giving this a lot of thought."
"Well... yeah," she admitted. "Actually... I started to think about it a month ago or so. And I knew for a while that some girls from my class get spanked, I mean, on their own terms, but still. I was... afraid to talk to you about it."
"Really, Princess, there was no reason to be afraid. What did you think I was gonna do, spank you for having honest questions?" I teased her.
"But you ARE going to spank me!" She laughed.
"Yes, but not for having questions about spanking. I am going to spank you because it's something you think you should experience -- and, as a matter of fact, I also think that. Now... seeing that you are going to get a spanking anyway... is there something you'd like to confess?"
Sandy thought about it. "Well... actually..." She leaned towards my ear. "I drank a can of beer about a month ago!" she whispered.
"Really?" That surprised me. "Wow, I'm shocked! Did you like it?"
"No, not really."
"Well, even that, that's probably the sort of thing you SHOULD be spanked for," I said, but I didn't really mean it.
"Will... will you spank me now?"
"Oh, was it already enough scolding for you?"
"Yeah."
"All right, this is a Dad spanking, so get in your PJs."
She didn't go to the bathroom, she just changed right in front of me. Well, why not. I'm not a "Dad", even though I am pretty sure I can give a memorable "Dad spanking".
I noticed, however, that she hesitated when taking down her panties, and then again when she pulled her PJ bottoms on. There is a powerful discomfort stemming from the knowledge that they are going right down very, very soon. I know that discomfort well.
I slowly, deliberately, rolled up my right sleeve.
"Wait!" said Sandy. "You said that Granddad rolled up his left sleeve!"
"He was left-handed. I am not. If I spanked you with my left hand, you wouldn't feel almost anything."
"Aw..."
She actually pouted, as if I just uncovered a brilliant plan.
"Anyway," I said, "it's time to spank your bottom."
Sandy paled and her breathing quickened. "Um... can we go over it once again?"
"Sure," I nodded, "but YOU are going over my lap right after that."
She gulped.
"I am going to turn you over my lap, Princess," I said. "Then I'm going to take those PJ bottoms down. You are going to lie there with your bare bottom showing, and then, well, then I'm going to start spanking you. And don't make a mistake, this WILL be a real spanking, it WILL sting and you probably WILL cry. But no matter how you cry or protest, this is not going to be over until *I* say so. And yes, it's WAY too late for you to change your mind, young lady. Get over my lap now, and I'll take care of the rest."
For a while, she hesitated, but then she leaped at me. She ended up draped over my lap with her head and arms on the bed. She was surprisingly heavy. I tried to shift her weight, but I only managed to move her a bit.
I put my hand on Sandy's bottom, still clad in the flower-patterned PJs. She whimpered.
"I'll pull it down on three," I said. "One, two, three!"
I tugged and I managed to pull the PJ bottoms down a bit, revealing the teenage bottom of my daughter.
More whimpering.
I moved my hand along the bottom, now covered in goosebumps.
"Anything you'd like to tell me before I begin?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, Mommy," she said.
There was nothing specific to be sorry for (except maybe for the beer thing?) but I knew what she means.
She was a little girl submitting to the parental correction and pleading for leniency.
I raised my hand and smacked her bottom.

I started slow, but I kept the spanks hard and crisp. Sandy gasped and started to wiggle a bit but it was easy to hold her down. This slow, each spank was felt individually, but as I slowly increased the frequency, they started to blend together. She yelped with each swat, and she tried to match her breaths with the rhythm of spanking, but to no avail. As the spanks quickened, the discomfort started to be more or less constant and she couldn't relieve it. She kicked her legs a bit, clenched her fist, sputtered, and finally started to sob as she started to realize that whatever she's feeling, it's only the very beginning of a long session over my lap.
I was so focused on the spanking I haven't even noticed when her sobbing transformed into real tears. She tried to reach a hand back and protect her bottom, and so I pressed it to the small of her back with my left hand, just as Dad did when I tried that trick with him. (As for Mom, I learned fairly quickly NOT to try that with her, EVER. Dad tolerated a bit more resistance.)
Once she started crying, I stopped intensifying the spanking, but I kept it at the same level -- maybe a bit milder -- for a while. My goal was to keep her crying, and also to give her bottom a nice red color she could brag about to her friends at school.
When you're spanked, you have no worries. The pain flushes everything from your head and you can do nothing but hold on until it's over.
I gave Sandy a long period without any worries.
When I decided to end it, I raised my hand high and have her ten swats, harder than anything that came before. She howled louder than she probably thought she can -- that's what parents are for, always encouraging our children to overcome their boundaries. Then I just stopped and she went limp, lying over my lap, crying hard and staining the blanket with her tears and snot.
I gave her a handkerchief -- tissues are not enough in this case, you need a good, old-fashioned handkerchief after a good, old-fashioned spanking. She blew her nose and rubbed her eyes. I put a hand on her bottom, red and hot, and rubbed it. She whimpered, but it was a whimper of a satisfied kitten. I kept her over my lap, not saying anything, just holding her and rubbing her bottom. Eventually, the handkerchief fell out of her hand and I realized that the exhaustion of that ordeal put her to sleep.
And I still couldn't move her!

It took me several minutes to slowly wriggle from underneath her. Wonder that she never woke up. But, oh well. It was worth it.
I put the blanket over her. I didn't pull her PJ bottoms up -- let her wake up with a bare butt.
But before I left, I did something I haven't done for years. I gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

* * *

Several hours later, Sandy came to the kitchen in her PJs.
"Hi, Mommy," she said.
She hasn't called me "Mommy" for a very long time.
"Hi, my brave girl," I said.
"Um... I wanted to thank you for giving me that spanking."
"Well, there's nothing I wouldn't do for my favorite daughter," I smiled.
"It really hurt."
"It had to."
She nodded. "I know."
"So, what do you think? Should we continue with it? Should I spank you when you think you need it?"
"Well, I don't think I will ask for a spanking very often," she grumbled. "But... I think we should have that option."
"Whatever you say."
"It will be great telling the girls tomorrow," she beamed.
"Oh? Did you take a spanking just to blend in your social group?" I teased her.
"No! Well... not just because of that. I took a spanking from you because you're the best mom!"
"Flatterer," I grumbled.
"Do you want me to help with the dinner?"
"Sure! If you don't think there was enough mother-daughter bonding for one day!"
"There's never enough!"
She hugged me.
"Can you tell me more about your spankings while we cook?"
I thought about that. My eyes rested on a framed photo on the wall. Me, little Sandy, and her dad, when we were still a complete family.
I told her about the spankings from my parents. Maybe I'll continue in that vein for a while.
After all, she's still a bit too young to hear about the spankings I got from her dad... although it looks like she inherited something there.

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Re: The World is ChangingMarek08:07:21 04/20/17 Thu


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