My name is Missy, and I'm the youngest of four kids in my family. Last year I graduated from a Catholic high-school just outside of Jackson, Mississippi.
I still live at home with my super strict, but kind of lazy, parents. It is lazy parenting not to try to come up with discipline and/or punishment that addresses whatever the kid did that you feel is a transgression and try to actually teach her something. It is lazy parenting to have so few tools that finding the right tool for the job at hand isn't even a question. You just automatically spank the kid bare bottom over the knee with a paddle or some other implement. They spank as hard as they can every time. And that is quite hard indeed. Their favorite leisure activities are bowling, racquetball, and whitewater rafting, all of which build arm strength. They are very strong. Age of the child and type or gravity of the offense come into play only in deciding the length of the punishment. It is always accompanied by a scolding lecture.
You think 18 is "too old" to be punished this way? You wouldn't be able to convince my parents about that. They say you're never too old, and they mean it. My sister, Jenny, is the second to youngest at 21. She just moved out a couple of months ago. Right up to then she was still punished the same way. The day before she left she happened to use her phone during church. When we got home dad took her into her room and I distinctly heard the sound of his belt against her bare butt.
Making "paddled at school, paddled at home" a rule doesn't sound like it would be lazy parenting as they are essentially making more work for themselves. My mom had an arrangement with the school that they would call her and tell her when any of us kids got the paddle. She circumvented the actual work of obtaining the facts of the situation to see whether punishment really was called for. She skipped that hard part and went straight to administering a paddling, which wasn't work for her at all.
It's not work if you get some sort of sick sexual thrill out of it. After bringing her the paddle I have to strip naked, or at the very least bare my bottom, and bend over her knee. She hikes up her skirt so I can bend right over her knee and she can put her other leg across the backs of my legs. She holds me pretty tightly with her left arm, pressing my hip right into her crotch. As much as what came next hurts, it won't block out everything else. I am very aware that my bare hip is right up against her underwear, and of course my bare pussy is right up against her bare thigh, but that's not all. After the first few whacks I notice her pussy getting wet. She gets so aroused by spanking me that her pussy juice soaks her underwear and leaves a big wet spot on my hip. My dad uses basically the same technique holding me over his knee and I can feel his dick get hard and proceed to throb against my hip.
I got the hairbrush just today. The very nature of the experience of going over my mom's knee has changed dramatically in the last 8 years or so. She still spanks as hard, maybe harder, as she still enjoys the same sports. The difference is emotional. Why and how this change came to be is one of the main points of this story.
Shortly after I turned 10 I started to feel slightly differently about it from before, almost like I was starting to enjoy being spanked on some level, especially when it is my mom giving the spanking. I was still filled with loathing and dread as I brought the requested implement and bared my bottom, but there was a little excitement mixed in with it. I received a long hard spanking, listening to the lecture, feeling her pussy get wet, and a special tingling was also going on in my own loins. I said to myself, "The spanking itself is too hard, too painful. I can't really enjoy it. But something less intense I'm thinking I might."
Of course, that is before she spanked me hard and long enough to reduce me to a sobbing snot-bubbling heap, very sorry for whatever I've done even if I've done nothing wrong. I thought about how I might enjoy something less intense during the first few whacks. And even more so before the spanking. Looking at this gorgeous woman holding a thick, holey paddle and telling me to bend over her knee.
My mom is an enticing, sexy woman. A tall, curvaceous, dirty blonde. I often find myself staring at her beautiful face, magnificent breasts, full round backside, and sexy long legs. Yes, I had become sexually attracted to my own mother. These feelings were confusing, I didn't know what they meant or what to do with them. I just kept them to myself.
These feelings have not passed and will not pass. Through the years I have come to find my mom more and more sexy, and the feeling of maybe kind of liking being spanked by her has also grown. This was accelerated by a series of events that happened early on.
One day I was home alone and got bored and curious. I was nosing around in my parents' room and discovered one of the drawers in my dad's side of the dresser had a false bottom. With a little time and effort I was able to take out the false bottom and find what was under it. It was a stash of what I now know is called porn. DVD's, not magazines. I spent a few minutes just looking at the sexy girls on the covers. I liked the ones that showed girls licking each-other's pussies. I got very curious about what that would taste like. Even more than that another one really caught my eye. It was several pictures, each of the same two girls, one of whom looked almost exactly like a slightly older version of my cousin Susan. It was not Susan, but it looked like her. In some of the images they were just feeling each-other up and in others the girl who looked like Susan was being spanked by the other one.
I had, or more accurately have, a big crush on Susan as well. My lust for Susan isn't nearly as strong as my lust for my mother, but it is still pretty strong. I really didn't know what to expect when I watched the DVD, but I had gathered from the covers that the girls on them are fully naked for at least part of the movie. And of course not Susan was getting spanked. I just had to see that! I learned a lot from that lesbian porn movie.
Not Susan and the other one were making out in the first part. I had seen tongue kissing on TV and in the movies before but didn't really get what was going on. I didn't realize they were sticking their tongues in each-other's mouths. Until I saw how the girls in this movie did it. For part of the make-out session they weren't even using their lips, their tongues were out of their mouths just rubbing against each-other. Before and after that their lips were together and you could tell they were probing each-other's mouths with their tongues. Then it really got good.
They were lying on a couch making out hot and heavy, running their hands all over each-other's bodies. Not Susan started to take off the other one's clothes and explore her neck and the top part of her chest with her lips and tongue.
Right about this time I felt that same tingling in my loins and noticed my nipples were getting hard. I took off my top and began playing with them. I strongly suspected my pussy was going to start to get wet and I wanted to taste it. Still intently watching the girls on screen I slipped out of my pants and underwear.
Not Susan worked her way down to the other one's breasts. There she spent a great deal of time and incorporated her hands into it. She slowly worked her way down her body, exploring every little curve. Then she made her way to her pussy and set up camp there. Both girls clearly loved every second of it. I'm thinking, I definitely want to do that!
At first I had imagined myself as the other girl, making out with not Susan. It wasn't very far in at all that I changed my mind and wanted to be the one doing what not Susan was doing. While I was watching the pussy eating my own pussy was indeed getting wet.
I ran my fingers over it. That felt great! I decided to put a finger inside it. The initial idea was to get my pussy juice on my fingers and then put them in my mouth to taste it like I was eating pussy. If fingering myself felt as good as I thought it would, based on how just running my fingers over it felt, that would be a delightful bonus. It didn't feel as good as I thought it would. It felt like a million times better!
Once I started I just couldn't stop. I watched the other girl wrap her legs around not Susan's neck, pull her hair, and push her face into her pussy. The other girl picked up what I now know was a riding crop and began to tap not Susan's ass with it. Gentle love taps at first, then she started doing it harder and harder. The only thing between the crop and her backside was a thin pair of shorts, so you know she felt that.
That got me thinking. I already thought I would enjoy a spanking that wasn't nearly as hard as my mom spanks. But would following that light spanking with a harder one be even more enjoyable? Not Susan seemed to love it. While getting her ass smacked hard with a riding crop, she ate the other girl to a screaming orgasm. Then I let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a scream as I cum.
That night, and almost every night after for years, I lie in bed fingering myself to the mental image of eating my mom's pussy. It's not always my mom that I fantasize about, but it usually is. And sometimes it's my mom and somebody else at the same time. It always ends up with me eating my mom's pussy.
I'm looking up at her face and body as she wraps her legs around my neck, pulls my hair, and pushes my face into her crotch. I didn't want to make the big sound out loud like I had earlier that day. That first night I just put as much of my other wrist in my mouth as I could to muffle it. Afterwords I suck all the juice off my fingers that I can. I get a good idea about the smell and taste of pussy juice, and I love it!
The next day was Saturday, laundry day, and it was my turn to do it. I got an idea. The rule is that whoever is doing laundry that week is to start it before 10 AM, ensuring plenty of time to get it done. I didn't start it. A little after 11 mom asked me if I forgot. I said I remembered but just wasn't going to do it. This of course meant a belting over her knee, which of course meant her underwear getting drenched with her pussy juice. I also knew what mom was going to do right after that. She changed her underwear and gave me the wet ones to add to the laundry. I didn't wash them. Instead I stashed them in my room. That night I stuffed my mom's underwear in my mouth and masturbated to the mental image of eating her pussy. It was so worth taking a whipping to taste my mom's pussy juice!
Just a few months later I started sixth grade, the first year of middle school. Sister Gaffney, the vice principal of the middle school I went to, was also sexually attractive. Also tall, but a brunette. I could tell she had a nice body under all that garb nuns have to wear. She was the one whose job it was to paddle any girls sentenced to a paddling. I had been making it a point throughout my academic career to avoid being sent to the office for a paddling, with mixed results.
Of course a school paddling meant also getting it at home, which is why I had been avoiding it. The spankings I had been getting at home must have toughened up my backside so that a school paddling was practically nothing in comparison.
I'm sure this isn't common in other places, but in both the elementary school and the middle school I could see as well as hear the girls ahead of me getting paddled. The door from the hall to the outer office was closed and I was sitting in the outer office. The door from the outer office to the inner office was open and I could clearly see what was going on. I could see other girls bend over and grab their ankles for the vice principal to whack their butts with the paddle. Her secretary was there to witness the paddling and there were usually other kids in the outer office as well. There was also another vice principal (a man to paddle boys), the principal himself, and a couple of counselors who also had inner offices off that same outer office. Anybody who happened to be in those offices could hear what was going on but not see it. Of course the same people who could see and hear the other girls getting spanked could also see and hear me.
More than once during the time when I was in the range of second, third, and fourth grades I would have to wait while the elementary school vice principal paddled one or more fifth grade girls before bending over to be paddled myself. Each one of those older girls broke down and cried like a baby from the same paddling I was about to receive. When it was my turn it stung more than a little but it wasn't what I would call real pain. It was moderate discomfort. By the time I reached middle school my home spankings had come to have just a little pleasure mixed with the excruciating pain. I was imagining a paddling from Sister Gaffney as pure pleasure.
I found myself fantasizing about Sister Gaffney holding the paddle and telling me to bend over. I pictured it just like the one that had been used on me in elementary school, which was as thick and holey as the paddle at home, but longer and not intended for over the knee. I bend over and grab my ankles, and she gives me several good whacks. Based on my experiences from grade school, I would say a school paddling is nothing next to what I get at home.
This grew into a more fully formed fantasy. Sister Gaffney strips down to her underwear and orders me over her knee the same way my mom does. I'm completely naked, over her knee, and she paddles me with the paddle my mom uses. As this is going on, my mom is there and takes all of her clothes off. She pushes my face into her pussy and orders me to eat it.
I'm looking up at her curvaceous, voluptuous body. The look of ecstasy on her beautiful face looking back at me. Her sexy legs wrapped around my neck. And my tongue deep in that sopping wet pussy. The taste, the smell. She's pulling my hair and pushing my face into her crotch at the same time. Breathing heavy, moaning, calling out my name, getting louder and louder. I see her eyes roll back in her head just before she arches her back and her whole body starts to twitch. And then comes the orgasm. She tries to call out "Oh God" but never quite gets the "d" out.
"OOOHHH GGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Four or five weeks into the school year I decided to go for it. The school rules gave individual teachers a lot of discretion in deciding what punishment would be given for any given offense. I had 7 teachers if you include the ones overseeing study hall. Out of the 7, 5 believed that we were a little old for paddling and would instead assign essays and/or detention. One viewed this as more work for him and so would instead send us to the office for paddling. The other was an old-school nun who would also send us to the office but would rather do the whacking herself. I was actually a little afraid of her. So I picked the lazy one, Mister Curtis.
Right in the middle of a lesson about the Founding Fathers I stood up and said, "Bullshit!" Any small offense in his class almost guaranteed a trip to Sister Gaffney's office, but I wanted to really be sure I wouldn't end up with detention instead. And I wanted to interrupt a class that way anyway.
Even if I didn't get sent to the office the look on his face when I did that was almost worth the spanking waiting for me at home. The rest of the class made that snickering sound they make when they're trying not to laugh. With a mix of shock and anger, but more shock, he just said, "MELISSA!"
Trying to hide my smirk, I said, "What? The First Amendment gives me the right to yell 'bullshit' in a crowded classroom." That got a big laugh from the other kids. I'm not sure what they were laughing at more, what I said or the look on his face. Of course he sent me to the office right after that.
This time I had to wait behind an eighth-grader who had been bullying other girls. She was supposed to be the "tough" girl in school. She didn't seem so tough when she was crying after just 2 whacks, with 6 more to go. Having been picked on by her in the past, I can't deny thoroughly enjoying watching her getting hers. I got a big grin from her first sniffle, and it stayed painted on my face. By the eighth wack she was crying so hard snot ran from her nose and dripped on the floor. When she stood up her snot was going right into her mouth and she didn't even care. In the short time I had been at this school I had seen half a dozen girls return to from Sister Gaffney's office still crying but I hadn't seen anything quite like this. The bully was going to have to return to her class bawling and blubbering. I continued to grin at the thought of it.
Then it was my turn. Sister Gaffney set down the paddle, which was just as I had pictured, looked at me and said, "Next." I walked right up to her and handed her the punishment slip Mr. Curtis had given me. She frowned as she read it. As she set it down and picked the paddle back up she gave me a stern angry look and scolded, "Such language, young lady! Why would you do this in the middle of class?"
I was so turned on, looking at her holding that paddle and hearing her scolding. I was very excited at the prospect of getting the same spanking as the bully. I think I did a good job of masking that emotion and coming across as just a smart-ass who didn't care. I shrugged and said, "It was funny." Now she really looked pissed. I said, "Come on, it was funny!"
Sister Gaffney's tone grew even more stern. She said, "No, it is not funny! You have to learn some respect! This calls for something a little drastic!"
It called for something a little drastic alright. It was a bit of a struggle to hide how aroused I was. I would rather laugh that show how turned on I was. I just kept thinking about Mr. Curtis' face. Chuckling, I said, "What are you going to do to me?"
"I've never given a sixth-grader more than 7 swats at a time. With your attitude, I think you need 9." My grin widened. So she said, "No, make it 12! Now bend over and grab your ankles!"
I grabbed my ankles and Sister Gaffney began whacking me with the paddle. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I gave no outward reaction, just stayed in position and enjoyed the sting. She paused long enough to change up her stance a bit and paddled me harder. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
I was loving it! As I still didn't seem to react, she stopped just long enough to say, "There's no need to be brave, Missy. You're supposed to cry, that's how a paddling works."
CRACK! CRACK! She stepped back so she could step into it like a batter, using every bit of thrust she could get to spank me harder. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I was in heaven! The harder she spanked the more I loved it!
As it happened Mr. Curtis' history class was the last one before lunch. This gave me the chance to slip into a lavatory stall and finger my pussy good thinking about Sister Gaffney and her paddle. After school I walked across the street to my house and went over my mom's knee. It was so worth it!
Then I began thinking about the increasing intensity of the whacks Sister Gaffney had given me, and it made me think about my little theory of getting a harder spanking after a softer one. Shortly after that I found a way to get around the content blocks on the computer at home. I watched some lesbian porn, some spanking porn, and was actively seeking out lesbian spanking porn. I also researched my theory and learned that "warm-up" spankings are indeed a thing. I definitely was going to get Sister Gaffney to paddle me again, but I had to come up with a way to do it late enough in the day that it could be a "warm-up" spanking.
More about that in the next chapter.
If you liked this story, or just want to discuss it, please feel free to write me at missyk989@gmail.com
I'll probably write back, but I might not. Either way I do appreciate feedback.
Thanks,
Missy