This is not a work of fiction, but rather a memoir of a lesson that I learned many years ago. It involves the spanking of an 12 year old girl (me!), by her (deservedly!) angry daddy. If that bothers you, please click this window closed. Naturally - if you are under 18 you shouldn't be reading this anyhow, so please go on about your business.
Additionally, you each should know that I had, and continue to have a great relationship with my parents, and that I'm not interested hearing what monsters you might think they are or were. They were doing what society, at that time in our town, believed was right. They were/are loving, caring parents who also believed that a warm bottom was an effective way of helping a girl learn how to behave herself. Spankings back then were expected and not thought to be cruel or unusual - even by those of us who got them.
I hope you like the story. I'd love to have feedback here or by e-mail if you are so inclined.
As I mentioned before, neither Mom nor Dad was the designated spanker' in our family. Whoever discovered the misbehavior, or was closest to the misbehaving one, or was the angriest delivered the spanking. I've already recounted some of Mom's spankings, so I thought that it is about time to introduce dad in his role as disciplinarian.
I was a pretty active Girl Scout when I was growing up, and I really enjoyed the camping and such, but many of the meetings were really boring. Some of my friends and I discovered that if we made plans in advance, and if we were quick about it, we could sneak off when our parents dropped us off for a meeting and sneak back just as the meeting ended to get picked up. This would give us about 1-1/2 hours of free time in town, usually at the local hang-out meeting our other friends. We only wore our uniforms for special meetings, neither our moms nor our scout leaders wanted us to ruin them by wearing them to every meeting, so we didn't have to worry about looking stupid in our uniforms in town.
On the night of our last free tour of town, I started the evening out as a happy-go-lucky 12-year-old, in complete control of her destiny. We had a great time in town, doing nothing in particular, just enjoying being 'free' for a while. It was my bad luck that one of the leaders came out and, seeing me crawling into the car, scampered over to ask where I had been. Trapped between Dad and the big chief girl scout I knew that I was caught and decided that my best defense was making a full confession.
I blubbered (to show both of them how terribly sorry I was) and told all. Dad said nothing as the big scout scolded me and loudly stated that she hoped I would be punished. Dad apologized for my being a problem to her, assured her that he would punish me, then drove us home in complete silence. I boo-hoo'ed a good bit and said "I'm sorry" a million times, but I got no reaction from my driver. This was worse than if he would have been lecturing me! He had told the old bat that I would be punished, and I clung to the reasoning that he said 'punished', not 'spanked,' and therefore I might not get a spanking.....silly me!
When we entered the house he finally broke his silence. After a terse, "Tell your mother what you have been doing, then go to your room. I'll be up shortly," he disappeared. His statement, "I'll be up shortly," meant that I was probably going to be spanked. There wasn't much reason for us to meet in my room if all he was going to do was scold.
I found my mom in the kitchen, working her daily crossword puzzle, and began my tearful confession, including the fact that I was to go to my room and that Dad was going to meet me there. I think that the only thing that saved me from going across her knee right there in the kitchen was her realization that Dad had claimed this naughty daughter's spanking for himself.
I had been hoping that Mom would understand and would intervene on my behalf to spare my bottom, but it was not to be. She yelled and scolded and told me of all the horrible things that could have befallen me while I was unsupervised and unchaperoned wandering about the town (in my town? Yeah, right!). Then she scolded me for lying to her and dad, pretending to attend my meeting but skipping out on the town. Finally she told me that I had better not keep my dad waiting, and to go on upstairs.
"But Mom, I'm so sorry, and I swear that I'll never do it again! I promise, really, and it was Mary and Amy that made me go, really, Mom! I'm really sorry, but it is all Angela and Linda's fault!!"
Mom had the greatest gift for speech, for phrasing things so well that she could convey her meaning without really saying the essentials...
"Well then, Miss Pamela, I hope that Angela and Linda get spankings, too. Now get up to your room right now, little lady. You are in enough trouble without all this stalling."
She never said that I was going to get spanked. She just hoped that Angela and Linda got spankings....but what was that word, "too"? Doesn't "too" mean the same as "also?" Oh, no!!!
I was in tears as I started upstairs, and it got no better when I met my sister Tammy coming down the steps. Tammy and I shared a room, and apparently Dad had already cleared the decks. Tammy was carrying some of her schoolbooks as we met at the bottom of the steps.
"Boy, are you in trouble, Pam, what in world did you do? Daddy busted into our room and told me to go do my homework at the kitchen table because he needed to have a talk with you! Wow, are you in trouble, Pam - I just know he's gonna give you a spankin' - why else would he make me leave? What did you do to him? Wow, does he look mad, I'm glad I'm not you!!!" Tammy was usually greatly entertained when I needed a spanking, and I should have taken advantage of this rare show of concern, but I didn't.
"Waah! I didn't do anything!! Leave me alone!!" It seemed as if everyone in the world knew that I was going to get spanked except me. I was still trying to convince myself that he wasn't that mad. I tried to push her away, but she was bigger than me, and my push only made her angry with me when she had been trying to be concerned.
"Go on, little baby, go get your spanking like a little girl. I hope Daddy pulls your panties down too, you little brat, and blisters your bare butt!"
"Waaah!!!" I can't think of any clever response, so I just run past her with the words 'bare butt' ringing in my ears. My nasty, nasty sister gives me a hard smack on my rear as I run by.
"Oh, please, don't let her be right, please, I couldn't stand it," I think to myself as I scamper up the steps. I reach my room, and sorta slam the door behind me. I say sorta, because Mom and Dad have both visited with me about door slamming, and their disapproval of this habit of mine. So even though I really wanted to slam that door off its hinges, I only slammed it just a little. No sense in making a bad situation even worse! I fell onto my bed, and began to cry about the trouble I was in.
Other folks have accurately described that awful waiting period. All of the signs indicated a spanking in my very near future, even my dumb sister knew that. I alternately raged that I was too old for a spanking, then worried about how I would be dressed and how bad it might hurt if he did spank me. What if Tammy's wish comes true and he pulls down my pants?
"Oh! Oh! Why did I ever go downtown?"
"Oh! Oh! Why did I get born into a family that spanks?"
"Oh! Oh! Why do they pull down my underwear when I get my spankings?"
"Oh! Oh! Why can't I have Cindy's parents? She says that they never, ever spanked her in her whole life, and I can't seem to go a whole month without getting a spanking?"
"Oh! Oh! Why do I get myself into these things?"
"Oh! Oh! If I can only get out of this, I promise me to never do anything like this again, never!"
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