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Subject: Easter Romance


Author:
Marek
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Date Posted: 14:02:43 12/07/19 Sat

[Author's note: The Czech Easter traditions depicted in this story might be slightly exaggerated, but are nonetheless real.

What's a "pomlázka"? It's basically several young willow switches (3-8) weaved together. The result is sometimes firm, sometimes floppy, based on how firm the switches were, and can be quite long (which is advantageous since it's often used on girls who are running away from you!). The top has strips of colored paper to improve the look and the rustle.

Traditionally, you cut the switches on Easter Sunday and made your pomlázka which was used on Monday. You started with your mother, grandmother or sisters and then you banded together with other boys and ran from house to house, reciting Easter carols and swatting all girls you could reach, for which solemn duty you were rewarded with hard-boiled eggs. But beware! You had to be done before noon -- if you forgot about this rule, the girls were allowed to splash cold water on you...

And the meaning of it all? Youth! Easter is all about youth, eggs, rabbits, and also young willow switches that pass their youth into girls' bottoms :)
]

Easter Romance

I was always prone to spankings. Even as a little girl. My parents never took much convincing before smacking me... I was "girl hatched from wild eggs", as they liked to say, and eggs, they said, need to be fried. And so, I soon made an acquaintance of my Mom's wooden spoon which became, especially in my teenage years, my loyal advisor and companion. A note from school? Wooden spoon. Untidy room? Wooden spoon. A one-sided love? Long, hearty talk with Mom who consoled me that I still have time -- and then the wooden spoon to show me that I REALLY still have time for such things.
The situation evolved to the point that sometimes I came home from the school and before I showed my notebook to Mom, I stopped in the kitchen and got the wooden spoon so I didn't have to go back for it.

Even though I hated spankings, I took them as given. When the wooden spoon's time came, I obediently took down my panties and went over the lap. One day, when I was at my aunt's, I got into a fight with my cousin and we managed to send an antique bowl on the ground and into pieces. Aunt took care of my cousin and Mom took care of me. My cousin screamed and cried and sobbed that she doesn't want a spanking and that she doesn't want to get it on the bare and that she'll be good... I felt really embarrassed by that. In the end, Mom waited with my spanking until my cousin was done. I tried to be especially brave that time and I only started to cry some time after the wooden spoon started to smack my buttocks. My cousin had a big respect for me since then and she never tried to fight me again. About six months later, she told me with some pride that she's no longer crying before she's actually spanked.

Easter was a chapter by itself. When I was a little girl, the carolers were mainly here to swat Mom and I was almost neglected, but at fifteen, their main target was already me. Dad, who secretly cheered for them, sometimes "accidentally" left the door open on Easter Monday; the boys knew that, and so me and Mom were denied even the warning of the doorbell. Mom was stoic, she even laughed, but I was always trying to avoid the unpleasant contact with the pomlázka any way I could. Of course, Mom, with all her experience, knew something I didn't -- boys are not really interested in things that are offered to them. But should you run from them -- they will pursue you to the end of the world.

When I was fifteen, I got into an argument with Mom, and right in the morning of Easter Monday. I don't even know why anymore -- was it math? Or she didn't like my clothes? Anyway, she jumped and grabbed the wooden spoon... and the carolers picked exactly that moment to enter the door. Mom was taken aback, but then she took me and bent me over the kitchen table.
"Good thing you're here, she needs it really bad! Smack her bottom well, boys, don't be shy!"
And, angry as she was, she lifted my skirt. I was mortified by fear that she'll take my panties down in front of the boys, but fortunately, she refrained from that. Still, I felt their pomlázkas quite well and I couldn't sit comfortably for the rest of the day. Mom called for me after lunch and I thought she'd add her own personal touch. But, strangely enough, she didn't -- she actually apologized to me for lifting my skirt and said she shouldn't have done that. For about a month she didn't spank me at all...

On Easter Monday, when I was sixteen, I was sitting in the kitchen and having breakfast when they raided our house. I jumped up and ran out through the other door that led directly into our backyard -- and I crashed right into Vašek. He was my classmate and I fancied him, and now I sent him flying into mud. I was standing there, eyes bulged, which was unfortunately exactly what the rest of his group needed to catch up with me.
I was shouting and squealing, but to no avail -- I got it worse than any previous Easter. And I was worried what will Mom say about pushing Vašek into mud -- but fortunately she didn't see that and Vašek didn't say anything.

A few days later, I waited for him after school and humbly apologized to him. He just laughed, but he said something I remembered for a long time:
"Don't worry, I'll make it up next year."
And I blurted without thinking: "All right!"

I hate to say that, but I didn't speak to Vašek afterwards. I couldn't gather the courage. And sometimes, when I was going over Mom's lap that year, I remembered Vašek's words. And every time that happened I felt like Mom's wooden spoon hurts a bit less.

A year has passed and another Easter came. I was seventeen. The boys choose a different tactics this time and they sneaked into the house while I was asleep (Dad, the scoundrel, deliberately took my alarm clock away during the night).
And so someone suddenly tapped my shoulder and when I woke up, I found myself in the room five laughing boys with pomlázkas, protected only by my blanket, which suddenly seemed as a very, very insufficient protection.
Sure enough, they got rid of it right away. But when they stood face to face my nightgown which didn't leave too much space for fantasy, they panicked a bit -- after all, they were about my age, and some of them were even younger.
It was Vašek who saved the situation. "Well, we'd better go outside," he said. "You get dressed and come to us."
And they really went away. I had to think about what to do. I was thinking about Vašek's "making up" the whole year but now, when it was really here, I was overwhelmed by fear. I leaped to the door and locked it... well, I WOULD lock it if those bastards hadn't preventively steal the key. I got dressed and thought about what to do now.
Fortunately, I had a window in my room. I looked outside -- couldn't see anybody. Quickly, I leaped out and ran to the gazebo where they wouldn't look for me, or so I hoped...
...and once again I ran into Vašek, who blocked my way.
"Well, well. So you'd like to run away?" he asked.
"Well... yeah," I admitted. Sheepishly, I shuffled my feet. "But the whole thing is terribly unjust! I did nothing wrong. And I'm really scared of that pomlázka..."
"You don't respect the tradition?" he asked with a smile.
"Of course I don't!" I bristled. "It wasn't me who came up with it, was it?"
"And you don't respect your promise either?"
I hesitated here... "Well... I DO respect promises..."
And so I was lost because now the others were here as well. Vašek took my hands and the others did what they could. I was groaning and pleading, but it was mostly for the effect because to be honest -- it was still no match for the wooden spoon.
The boys continued on their way, but Vašek stayed.
"But our 'making up' is still not done, is it?" he winked at me.
"But my bottom really hurts," I whined. "Please, can you come some other time?"
"Some other time?" he said, puzzled. "And when?"
"Tomorrow," I suggested. "After the school. All right?"

I felt queasy all the rest of the day. I was really afraid of tomorrow. It was strange because I had never felt like this before. Mom spanked me without waiting and I wasn't afraid of Easter Monday because I was always hoping that noone would come.
But to know I would be spanked tomorrow?
Don't be silly, I said to myself. It will be only one boy, and I got spanked by four today. I can do that.
But one can be more important than four when it's the one who is important for you.
Next day, at school, I tried to furtively glance at his desk... and I saw him glancing at mine! He blushed and turned away -- and I was sure I did the same thing!

Vašek was waiting for me in front of the school after the classes ended. I gulped and walked towards him. "So... shall we go?" I said.
When he saw my face, he hesitated. "We don't have to do it if you don't want," he said. "I was thinking about what you told me, and yes, you were right, it's nothing but silly old tradition."
But I took his hand. It might sound silly, but I would feel really stupid if I went through all that fear for nothing.
"A promise is a promise," I said and smiled at him. For some reason, a tear streaked down my face.
We were silent on the way to my house. I unlocked the gate and let him in.
"You don't have a pomlázka," I noticed.
"That's only used on Monday," he said.
"So... what are you going to spank me with?" I asked.
"Well..." he hesitated.
I was afraid, but I was also getting more and more excited. That feeling was growing ever stronger and I didn't even know anymore if I feel good or bad.
I took his hand. "That would definitely suffice," I suggested.

My memories about the rest of that day are foggy. I know that I went over his lap in my room. I know that his hand started to hurt after a while and that it wasn't him who suggested I should take my jeans off... it wasn't me either... the situation just kind of led to that.
It also led to my panties ending up on the floor.
I know that Mom never managed to make my bottom as red as Vašek did that day. I know that I was half crying, half laughing.
And I know that my panties weren't the last clothing to hit the floor.

***

Next Easter Monday came. I was eighteen.
I woke up in a small cottage by a river where me and Vašek went to celebrate our anniversary.
I turned towards him, but he wasn't there. I peeked out of the bed and I saw him standing next to the door with a big pomlázka in his hand.
I put the blanket away. This time, I didn't even have a nightgown.
He looked at me with delight. Then he looked at the pomlázka.
Then he smiled.
"Turn around," he said apologetically. "You know how it goes -- work before pleasure."

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