Where the Heart Is

From: Perry Symon Fowler


'... and furthermore, I've had more than enough of your attitude, Lara. You're in dire need of a well-smacked bottom, and we may as well get started right away!!'

Lara shrank back, voicing a wordless gasp: Ben Shawfeld had spoken the words she dreaded hearing the most. Her worst-case scenario had materialised; he was going to take her over his knee for a good, long spanking.

'No, Ben, no, not a SPANKING, please no', Lara cried, her eyes large and moist with oncoming tears, 'please don't SPANK me again!!'

Ben was adamant. He'd made up his mind: an appeal for clemency was completely out of the question. Lara's behaviour had been unforgivable over the last two weeks, and she'd earned enough black marks against her name to warrant a good ten minutes across his lap.

'Down to the living room, young lady', Ben instructed her in an iron grey tone, 'you know what to do'.

Lara put a hand to her mouth.


'Oh NO, please Ben,' she wailed in sudden panic, 'don't send me to the living room, it's too much, PLEASE Ben, SPANK me in my BEDROOM; I don't want everyone to see, PLEASE-'

'Get down to that living room THIS INSTANT Lara!!'

'Noooooo', Lara moaned, feeling the first salty tears spilling down her cheeks. Turning away from Ben's angry glare, she ran sobbing down the hallway, already feeling his burning hand print marking her soft little tushie. At eighteen, she'd been living at Chamberlain House for just under a year, sharing the premises with five other teenaged girls. During that time, Lara had been spanked on average at least twice a month, and she'd come to fear Ben's thoroughly painful technique.

ESPECIALLY when he sent her to the living room to take her medicine. While all of the girls received regular spankings from the resident administrator, being sent to the common space was a special penalty, reserved for Lara and Lara alone. It meant that she had to strip down to her bra and panties before the entire household. Following a lengthy scolding in her underwear, she would be made to drop her knickers in front of all of her friends and go over Ben's knee for a bare bottom spanking!!

Arriving at the living room, Lara went straight over to the corner and started fumbling at the belt of her jeans. Ben would be along in five minutes or so; she had to be waiting for him in her bra and panties or he'd make her spanking so much the worse. She paused long enough to wipe her eyes with the back of one small hand, then began unzipping her blue stretch levis.

She wasn't alone in the common space.

Lindy Gaines and Renata Keating had been lounging around watching Friends re-runs when Lara entered the room. Now they exchanged furtive glances as Lara slipped off her jeans and drew her T-shirt over her head. She stood revealed in her underwear, noting the keen attention being payed her by the other two. The faintest hint of a blush began to tint Lara's features; she knew exactly what her friends were thinking.

(They know!)

That was the worst part of being sent to the living room for discipline; her spankings were so shamefully public. Ben could be so unutterably cruel at times - she'd been rude and disrespectful, no use in denying that, but surely he had no right to subject her to such a gratuitous and utterly humiliating ordeal.

'Ben's going to give you a spanking?' Lindy asked (as if she didn't know precisely what Lara's tearful disrobing meant). Her eyes were literally shining with the possibility. Renata, who'd been spanked in her bedroom only a few weeks before, leaned forward, her pretty face glowing with expectation.

'Yes, he IS', Lara replied with a barely restrained sob. It was so unfair - Ben was a big man; tall and powerful in every respect. She was small and weak and utterly helpless; she had no defence against his superior, masculine strength. In a matter of minutes, she would be struggling over his lap screaming in red-faced agony. And everybody in the Home was going to see!

Sniffling like an unhappy child, she crossed her hands modestly over her cleavage, a slim, pretty girl with wide hips and a tiny waist. She hated being punished in this way. She was a young woman, not a six year-old girl. She shouldn't be forced to present her naked tushie for a paddling every time she came home late from school or skipped the dishes after dinner. Certainly, the spanking was bad enough in itself; the public baring made it seem a thousand times worse!

Public being the operant word in this case.

She walked over to the window and carefully adjusted the curtains, throwing the entire living room open to the street. The total visibility policy was another one of Ben's disciplinary strictures; he insisted on her spankings being carried out before the living room's wide array of French picture windows.

The view Lara was offering the neighbours at that moment was little short of breathtaking. Her white underwire bra was surprising low cut, leaving her large and beautifully shaped breasts teetering on the edge of their lacy d-cups. The material was so fine that the subtle tint of her deepening, rosy blush was evident through the floral patterns.

Her figure was trim and utterly exquisite, her belly smooth and perfectly flat. Her white nylon full-brief panties shimmered like liquid silver, stretched tight against the taut, firm spheres of her bottom-cheeks. The nylon flowed with gleaming fluorescent ripples as she shifted the balance of her hips and thighs. Lara's face was flushed bright red; flaunting the delicate lace trimming of her panties prior to a spanking always embarrassed her, even though most of the other tenants were girls her own age.

Ben walked into the living room just as Lara finished drawing back the curtains. He'd brought the reminder of the Home's female borders; he always made sure that all the girls were home when Lara went across his knee. Ben had a strong belief in the value of deterrent punishment; a spanking should be a vicarious experi

ence, setting an example and discouraging misconduct in the others. The girls seated themselves comfortably around the living room, eager to enjoy the show, while Ben headed for his straight-backed Bentwood, the chair he employed for the sole purpose of spanking Lara's wayward little bottom. Over the past two years, it had become as familiar to Lara as any other piece of furniture in the common space. The atmosphere was tense with expectation: Lara's spankings were always hard, thorough and extremely painful.

Seating himself on the Bentwood, Ben began rolling his sleeves to the elbows, a tall, powerfully built man in his early thirties possessing steel grey eyes and handsomely masculine features. Old-fashioned manhood was heavily engraved onto his brow and lips and chin; he'd never been one to stand for impertinence or disrespect from the fairer sex.

Entirely devoid of weakness and sentimentality, Ben Shawfeld could never be deterred from his duty by stammering pleas for mercy or weeping promises of good behaviour; as Lara had discovered on many occasions. He'd decided that she needed a hot, throbbing bottom, and that was precisely what she was going to get.

'Now: over here, Little Miss', he ordered, waving her closer with his callused right hand. Groaning with fright but incapable of staging a refusal, Lara tip-toed over to Ben's chair, where she waited with her eyes downcast and her face flaring like a bowl of raspberries.

Following traditional methodology, Ben started out with a bald-faced scolding, compiling a seemingly endless list of complaints and innumerable transgressions. The other girls whispered and giggled amongst themselves, smiling broadly despite their friend's obvious distress. They all empathised with Lara to some degree, but these common-space spankings were always so thrilling, particularly when Lara's lush, round fanny-cheeks began to assume an autumn sunrise hue.

Standing before Ben in her bra and panties, Lara wept inconsolably, imagining how hard he was going to spank her tender young bottom. Her sense of humiliation was almost overwhelming: she felt weak, defenceless and totally helpless, a prisoner of his uncompromising masculine strength. Not only had she undressed to her underthings at his command, but she would - in a very short time - take her own panties down and lay herself across his lap virtually without complaint.

Trim and pretty and achingly feminine, Lara was forced to accept the inevitability of her punishment: having her naughty little buns paddled hot pink was all part of being female. She was a girl, Ben was a man, and he was going to take her over his knee and give her a damn good spanking. She could sob and beg and plead all she wanted, none of it would change Ben's mind. Lara was getting exactly what she needed, and so far as Ben was concerned, he had every right to give it to her.

'Alright, young lady,' Ben concluded, 'get your pants down; it's time to go over my knee!'

'No, Ben, no, PLEASE don't make me PULL MY PANTIES DOWN, it's not fair, you're treating me like I'm only ten years old, you mustn't SPANK MY BARE BOTTOM -'

Despite her wailing protests, Lara was already slipping her pants down to her knees. Outright rebellion was out of the question, a moment's delay would provoke Ben's wrath to even greater proportions. Shamed beyond all human expression, she exposed her magnificently contoured bottom to her roomies' admiring stares. A thrill of anticipation ran through the room like an invisible cyclone: now that Lara's pants were down, her spanking was only seconds away.

Ben reached out, taking the girl's smooth, thin wrist, and led her unerringly across his knees. He took great care to position her fanny in the exact centre of his lap, where her trembling, upthrust cheeks would be utterly defenceless beneath his irresistible palm. Sobbing in abject misery, Lara offered no resistance whatever, other than mouthing a stream of pitiful whimpers: No, Ben, don't, please don't spank me, I'm sorry, no, don't Ben, please don't ...

Lying helplessly over Ben's knee, Lara felt the cool evening air on her lush, naked bottom. Her cheeks twitched and clenched while she waited for the first devastating thunderstrike to descend on her creamy, unprotected flesh. Pale and innocent as morning snow, her pearly white bottom-tops almost begged for a spanking.

The living room was silent save for Lara's pathetic sobs. The girls held their breath as Ben's muscular forearm pistoned up.

Laying over his lap in the classic position, Lara braced her hands against the floor. The moment seemed to stretch out to infinity. Microscopic deatils sudden leapt into high relief. She sensed cool air drifting over her nude cheeks, felt the rough texture of Ben's jeans against her belly. She watched her tears splashing the floor-boards in slow-motion, as if time had cycled down to half its normal speed.

Ben's hand flashed down in a streaking arc.

Lara gasped in mute shock as that wide, steel palm slashed across her right cheek. Arching her spine in a spasm of wrenching pain, she squirmed and twisted on his lap. Her bottom trembled with repressed agony, her tummy shook with the effort of voicing the piercing shrieks trapped at the back of her throat. Ben held her in position with hardly a flicker of effort; she was a small, lithe willow of a girl, weighing little more than a doll. Her bare white fesses wobbled and danced in tune to his quickening, staccato tempo.

Kicking her feet wildly, Lara ambled her cheeks from side to side, instinctively trying to dodge that huge, punishing hand. It was no use; Ben's palm was enormous, it seemed to cover both cheeks in a single span. Bolts of lightening seemed to rain down on her tender little hynie. The blows landed to quickly to count, searing her faultless white skin with each scorching contact.


Ben suddenly switched his attention to her upper thighs.

The effect was immediate, irresistible. Lara's mouth gaped wide in a rictus of exquisite pain. She bucked in agony too huge to fully articulate, her eyes bulging open until they threatened to leave her face. Ben nodded complacently to himself and increased the stroke and velocity of his swing. Targetting the delicate fold of skin overlapping thigh and buttock, he leaned in with his entire shoulder. Blue-fire agony welled up from Lara's diaphragm, forcing its way to her lips. She finally released her screams in a torrent of gasping, wavering tears:


'Good', Ben replied in blunt satisfaction.

Lara vainly tried to cast her mind somewhere else, retreat into some remote vale of safety beyond the reach of that long, stinging palm. It was no use: all she could feel was the insistent, thunderous lash of Ben's span over her thighs and bottom. The pain was immeasurable, she could virtually feel the blisters forming over her fragile young cheeks.

Ben was an exactingly thorough spanker: her naked hynie was simmering with red heat; a vivid, pink blush was creeping down her thighs. Leaning in closer, Ben shifted her higher on his right knee, and laid in twice as hard. Targeting the centre of each blazing globe, he flailed down with all his strength. Her prim, sleek derriere looked purple and swollen.







Lara threshed her heels in midair, clutching her bottie as it received each stunning blow. She was weeping uncontrollably now. She quaked from crown to toe; streaks of pain were lancing the range of each leg; it was all she could do to keep her place over Ben's lap. She drove her fingernails into the floor boards, straining every muscle in her body.

Ben continued to increase the pace, focusing on the sensitive junction of leg and bottom. He smiled in stern approval at the way she wriggled her peaches in a desperate bid to escape. A hail of jarring, stinging smacks scalded Lara's buns, her nervous system was overloaded with searing, liquid fire. The girl's hips lolloped left to right in a crazy, electrified jig. Her blazing, brilliant bottom-tops fidgeted in unremitting distress.

Lara squirmed her botts frantically, seeking even a moment's respite from Ben's hard, biting digits. Her bottom was now a harried, frenzied shade of mauve. How much longer could she endure such punishment? She knew that she deserved it; she was female, she was beautiful, she'd been unpardonably naughty. She wailed in agony; her tushie sizzled like asphalt on a summer's day.


'Stop that wriggling!!' Ben growled, whipping his palm across the girl's seething hindquarters. He spoke down to her in the angry, condescending tones an adult directs at an errent child. Lara's heart wilted before his withering fury, her defences crumbled before that relentless barrage of rage and contempt.

'Now', Ben snapped, clapping her bare thighs to make her jump, 'hold your fanny up!!' Lara shrieked in misery as his fingers dug in.

The spanking continued. Lara lay over Ben's lap kicking and wailing, her pleas lost in the storm of loud, resounding slaps being applied to her swollen posterior. She wept, she screamed, she humped, she clenched. The pain was excruciating, pushing her mercilessly towards the threshold of her endurance. She was certain she couldn't take another smack to her bruised, wobbling orbs, but she had no other choice. Ben had complete and irrevocable power over her; it was up to him to determine the length and severity of her sentence.

Acceding to his will, Lara surrendered herself completely. Inching forward on his lap, she thrust her bottie-cheeks into the path of his on-rushing palm, offering him an unobstructed target. There was no point in begging for mercy, no point in pleading for clemency. She was a naughty little girl, she'd earned this spanking by virtue of her wilful feminine nature. It was Ben's duty to mete out the punishment she so richly deserved.


Lara's pulse was racing with abject humiliation. She simply couldn't believe it was happening again; couldn't believe that she was lying passively over Ben's squared knees being spanked before the entire household. Guilt and shame washed through her system: glancing up, she could see her housemates through tear-streaked eyes. They were leaning forward in attitudes of breathless excitement. Lindy had covered her mouth with both hands, no doubt to hide the enormous grin she secretly wore. Renata's colour was high; her face was tainted with a sultry pink hue and her eyes were glittering with repressed laughter.

A trembling sense of betrayal swept over Lara in a huge, black wave. They were her roomies: close friends with whom she'd shared her joys and sorrows over the past six months - and they actually ENJOYED watching this ordeal of disgrace. How could they take such obvious pleasure in her suffering? Turning her face to the floor, she hid her shame behind the curtain of her long, golden hair.

Ben's hand slashed into her bloated cheeks, whipping and stinging. The force of each blow set her rocking forward on his lap; she had to lean her palms against the floor to maintain her balance. Her bottom pulsed with outrage, her thighs burned with torment. Ben had scorched a crimson trail all the way from the soft curves of her buttocks to the backs of her knees. Lifting her head, she squeezed her eyes shut and gave voice to all her sorrow:




How long had she been over his lap? How long had she been the star attraction of this treadmill of punishment? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Twenty five? Time had all lost meaning for Lara. She seemed to have been here forever. Her poor, anguished bottom was glowing like a storm lantern, and she was conscious of very little beyond the incessant lash of palm against flesh. She howled in open distress, kicking her legs in childish outrage.
Unfortunately, no spanking can go on forever, no matter how satisfying the experience may appear to the casual observer. After what seemed like an eternity, Ben slowed his tempo, allowing Lara to catch her breath and sob out a litany of pleas and apologies. Weeping and breathless, she begged his forgiveness and offered tearful assurances for her future conduct:

'I'm sorry I was so naughty Ben, I know I deserved a spanking, but PLEASE don't hit me any more, I've learned my lesson, and I'll never backtalk you again, I'll be good from now on, really I will -'

Ben punctuated each of her promises with a stunning smack to the rear, sealing each vow with a shriek of utter misery. He focused on the sensitive junction of cheek and thigh, making Lara buck in agonised response. He was determined that Lara would remember this particular episode for a long, long time. She'd be wearing jeans and long skirts over the next few days; it was the only way to hide the blisters.

The other girls watched in mute fascination while Ben finished up with ten blistering strokes to Lara's simmering hynie. Spankings were routine occurrances at Chamberlain House, but this was one of the more memorable sessions they'd witnessed. Lara's pretty little bottom had been WELL AND TRULY SMACKED. Ben had stripped her of all human dignity, he'd forced her to drop her panties and expose her buttocks for their sheer entertainment (or so it appeared to them). She'd wept and begged and pleaded for mercy like a frightened little girl; she'd screamed like a banshee when Ben's steel palm had reddened her soft white fesses.

It had been one of the most THRILLING afternoons of their lives.

Ben held her over his lap until she'd finished crying. Once her tears had abated, he subjected her to his customary post-spanking discourse: I'm sick and tired of your insolence, attitude and disrespect; the moment you cross the line you'll be straight back over my knee; you know precisely what to expect next time, young lady; you have no one to blame but yourself; you got nothing more than you deserved; now stop that whimpering or I'll REALLY give you something to cry about. Corner-time came next.

Lara was required to stand facing the corner with her hot, red bottie on full display. Forbidden to speak or move so much as a finger for close on three hours, she endured this final insult in chastened silence. Ben considered corner-time an essential component of Lara's discipline. A spanking was something to be savoured and relished, an experience to be shared bu all concerned.The common-space was the perfect venue. Lara's freshly-smacked bottom was visible to the entire household in all its shining glory, and the picture window ensured that the neighbours could enjoy procedings at their leisure.

She stood with her heels touching and her panties clustered loosely around her ankles. With her pretty face lowered and her shoulders hitching with soft tears, she looked only half her eighteen years. She was drowning in a sea of thick, liquid shame. Ben had SPANKED her!! He'd turned her across over his knee and thrashed her like a nine year-old girl!! Her tender young bottom was a mass of blazing scarlet handprints; her cheeks were wobbling with barely suppressed suffering. The burning flush covering her tushie would last the better part of a week.

Lara's pulse thudded in her ears, gently ticking off the endless seconds of her penance. The whole thing was so blatantly unfair! She was punished more often than anyone else in the household, and her spankings were always painful beyond measure. It wasn't right, just wasn't right. She wasn't the only girl living at Chamberlain House, after all.

Why does Ben always pick on me? she thought, carefully shifting her centre of balance to her left hip, Lindy's just as naughty as me: how come she never has to bare her bottom in the living room? Renata was one of the most impudent little chippees in the Home, and yet she was only spanked once every six weeks - despite the constant stream of backtalk issuing from her mouth. At this moment of time, Lara hated both of them: sitting there giggling like a pair of bimbos and poking fun at her poor little derriere.

'Hope they both have their bottoms smacked really hard!' she thought, maliciously.

Just beyond the window, the street was darkening as twilight crept over the town. Lights flickered on all over Chamberlain. Children ran through the cool evening air, catching the last fading shreds of sunlight. Far away, a mother was calling her little boy home. A huge yellow moon ascended the horizon. A sense of peace settled over the neighbourhood: doors were closed, dinners were served, cats were fed


And suddenly, just like that, it was night.

Lara wept silently by the window, her big, red bottom buzzing with agony. The other girls had long since gone to the kitchen to cook dinner. Lara waited in the darkness, trembling with hurt, hardly daring to breath. She wanted to rub her bottom so much!

The long hours stretched before her like an endless field.

'WHERE THE HEART IS'. Copyright Perry Symon Fowler, 1999/2001. All rights reserved. Permission granted for private reproduction and internet publication.

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