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Thursday, 16 January 2020

Schoolgirl Crush

Story by Michael Burntwood from Janus 46
When the girls had said thank-you for their tea, Kathleen told her mother that they had to do their homework and the pair of them ran from the kitchen up the stairs to Kathleen’s room. They closed the door as they didn’t want to be disturbed. From their satchels they took out some books and opened them, spreading them out on the table to give the impression that they were busy with their studies, in case somebody should knock at the door and come in. But then they sat down close to each other and began whispering.
‘Now Kathleen. Tell me about your idea. Do you really think it will work? Tell me all about it.’
Dark-haired pretty-faced 17-year-old Kathleen took a deep breath and looked at her friend for a moment before she answered. ‘It will work alright. I’m certain,’ she said. ‘But remember. It has to be a secret. You can’t tell anybody about it. And I’m not quite sure if we dare go ahead with it. That’s something we’ll have to decide first.’
‘If it works, I can do anything,’ Becky promised at once. ‘But tell me now.’
Kathleen started to explain. Becky’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as she listened. She was biting her bottom lip and blushing when she had heard it all.
‘We could really get into trouble if we did something like that,’ Becky gasped. ‘We did last year, remember, when we tried to learn how to smoke in the cycle-shed. Miss Printon gave us four each!’
‘Yes,’ Kathleen admitted. ‘But we were 16 then. Miss Printon never caned our year.’
Becky made a wry face and then started to giggle. ‘Except Rosemary Grahame,’ she reminded her charming companion.
Kathleen shrugged her shoulders. ‘Alright. She did once. But Rosie had been smoking grass. Her daddy spanked her at home for it and she got five at school the next day. She’s never even smoked a fag since then.’
The two girls were silent for a while. What Rosie had done had nothing to do with their problem. Their problem was something quite different and they had tried for weeks to solve it. There must be some way. The idea Kathleen had come up with might work. But it was a terrible risk to take. The question was, if it was worth the risk. Being in love with an older man wasn’t easy.
Their headmistress had been pensioned off and when the new term started they had a new headmaster. He was tall and slim and the most handsome man they had ever seen. He had an oval face with a little moustache and dark blue, kind-looking eyes which could easily melt any girl they fastened upon. The first time the girls had met him, they had felt something happen inside. Ever since that memorable day he had become their most important problem.
Kathleen and Becky didn’t care how old he was. They tried never to think about his age. Often they tried to convince each other that he couldn’t be more than 28. 28 sounded nice. The truth that he was probably over 40 was something they never even thought about.
He took their class twice a week and taught science. Kathleen and Becky loved his lessons, but science wasn’t a subject they liked very much. Yet, when he was teaching, they listened attentively to every word. They were completely satisfied just to sit and look at his face. If they didn’t understand what he was trying to teach, it didn’t bother them at all. All they wanted was to feel his eyes on their faces, so they could look deep into those dark blue pools and relish the shiver in their bodies that his gaze was giving them.
‘Do we have to play truant? Isn’t there anything else we can do instead?’ Becky asked hesitantly.
‘No, not that I know of,’ Kathleen answered. ‘It has to be something which he’s got to deal with himself. It can’t be anything he can delegate to our Form Mistress or some other teacher. We will have to go up to his study and show him we are truly repentant and promise never to do it again. He will give us a good telling-off of course, and that’s the important thing. Afterwards he will recognise us as the girls who played truant and he will never forget what he said to us.’
Becky giggled. She was now beginning to understand what Kathleen was getting at.
‘I see what you mean,’ she interrupted her friend. ‘When he has scolded us, we will let him hear from other teachers that we are very nice, well-behaved girls. He’ll think we’ve changed because of his lecturing us and be proud of what he has done. He’ll always notice us and like us, and it’ll be easy for us to talk to him.’
Kathleen nodded, tittering. ‘Yes, what do you say? Super, isn’t it? It’s the only way to get to know him.’
The next day the girls did their homework in Becky’s room. They had had some time to think over what they were eventually going to do. Becky was still enthusiastic, but Kathleen whose idea it had been felt more dubious.
‘I’m not afraid of getting a telling-off from him,’ Kathleen said to her friend. ‘But just think — what if he decides to punish us? I mean, what you said yesterday, about Miss Printon…’
Becky shuddered and wrinkled her cute nose with its eleven freckles, which she often counted to see if they would disappear one by one. ‘No, I don’t think he will,’ she answered. ‘He’s a man and a man can’t punish girls in that way.’ She paused, and a new expression crossed her very pretty face. ‘But he can of course have a talk with our parents and I’m not sure I’d like that very much.’
‘But we have to try something,’ Kathleen said desperately. ‘We have to take some risks. If the worst comes to the worst it will only cost us some pain at home. I think I can bear that, if the rest of our plan works out. I’m sure it’s the only way we’ll get noticed, and we can play it by ear then.’
The girls talked it over a little more and some minutes later there was more laughing and scheming than homework being done in Becky’s room. Eventually the girls became scared that Becky’s mother would look in to see what they were doing. They talked in whispers and felt more confident as they tried to encourage each other and convince themselves that together they could do something which alone would be quite unimaginable. Their plan was becoming more and more exciting and fanciful by the minute — especially when they started to talk about what eventually might happen when they were in the Headmaster’s study.
‘Don’t you think he will remember us a lot better if he canes us? He can’t give us more than three or four whacks. But even then I don’t think he will do it very hard because we are girls. Wouldn’t it be exciting to let him have a look at our knickers? What do you say?’ Becky asked tittering, and there were peals of giggles from both of them.
At once Kathleen played the role of being the little schoolgirl. She popped up from her chair giggling and pressed her hands against the protruding back of her brief pleated school skirt, pretending she had been punished.
‘We don’t need to be afraid of that,’ Becky assured her. ‘17-year-old girls are too old to be caned at school.’
Kathleen refused to be convinced however, as she had started to like the idea. ‘I don’t mind if he does,’ she smiled excitedly. ‘I’m sure I can take it. I will bend over if he tells me and he can lift my skirt himself. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having a good look at my thighs and my knickers too.’
‘That would be thrilling,’ Becky agreed, panting a little. Faint roses had suddenly appeared on her cheeks. ‘I just remember how awful it was getting the cane from Miss Printon. I felt embarrassed for days afterwards and I couldn’t look her in the eye for ages. But… with him it would be different. Though I can’t promise I’d actually enjoy it…’
Kathleen and Becky had chosen Thursday. It was a schoolday they didn’t like very much. They met at the station and tried to keep out of sight of everyone who might recognise them. The train journey only took twenty minutes. Soon they were walking around the town. Surprisingly they found there was much to interest them, strolling through stores and looking at people. They enjoyed a pleasant day, and having tea on the top floor of a store they talked laughingly about not going to school the next day either.
They were very carefully watching the time and caught the correct train back home just as if they had been at school. They were sure it would be a couple of days before their Form Mistress could find out the truth about their absence and the consequences would have to be faced. How could they possibly know that fate would change their most carefully schemed plan?
Miss Wendel, their teacher in History and English, had been in town too. She had visited her dentist and had spotted the truant girls. They hadn’t seen her. When she returned to school Miss Wendel told the Headmaster and he in turn notified both their parents, so that they knew about it when Kathleen and Becky arrived at their homes at a quarter past four.
Becky didn’t suspect anything until she and her sister Lorraine had finished washing the dishes. Father was as usual sitting in the living-room reading the newspaper and Lorraine asked Mummy if there was anything else she wanted them to do before they started their homework.
‘No,’ Mummy said as Becky was hanging the tea towel on its hook. ‘But you, Becky, will have to stay in your room. Daddy wants a talk with you!’
At the same time Becky saw her sister smile maliciously. Her mother’s words and Lorraine’s smile told Becky all she needed to know. Something must have gone terribly wrong.
Blushing with confusion, Becky turned round and went hurriedly out into the hall and up the stairs. There was usually just one reason why Daddy wanted them to wait in their bedrooms for a talk. It only happened when she or Lorraine had been disobedient enough to be spanked.
Upstairs Becky didn’t have to wait long. She had time to go to the bathroom first, but then when she was back in her own room, sitting anxiously waiting on a chair, she heard her Father coming up the stairs. He came in and closed the door, and she could tell at once what his mood was. He told her sternly that her headmaster had called, that he had related what he had heard from the teacher who had seen them in town, and had asked Becky to explain why she had played truant and what she and Kathleen had been doing. Coldly he finished by telling Becky that he had given his consent to the Headmaster for her to be punished at school the next day.
It was like a balloon being pricked with a needle. Becky’s whole world crashed around her ears. She had tears in her eyes and sat blushing beetroot-red looking down and trying to find some sort of explanation for her behaviour, but without success. All she would say was that she and Kathleen had thought it would be fun to skip lessons and do something different. They hadn’t missed any important lessons…
Becky’s stuttering and snivelling explanations didn’t satisfy her father in the slightest. Instead he became more angry and lectured her, telling her that what was important for a girl of her age was to be at school and do her very best there. If she hadn’t known that before, she must learn it now. He was going to teach her right away and the same would happen again if ever in the future he should receive complaints about her from the Headmaster or her teachers.
Becky had to stand up and unbutton her jeans and let them down. She felt like a naughty little girl and not an almost grown-up young lady secretly in love with a handsome older man. Her father sat down on the bed. He pulled her across his knee and lowered her knickers to mid-thigh. Moaning and wailing and with tears welling from her eyes, Becky felt his hard hand spank her vigorously on the bare bottom, making it hot and sore. She thought he would never stop, but eventually he did. She felt dreadful, being punished by her own daddy in this way at her age.
When he left her alone in her room, Becky saw that her bottom was red all over from his smacks. It was stinging a lot but that was nothing compared with her feelings of shame. She flung herself face down on her bed, weeping and regretting their silly idea.
Kathleen in the meantime had innocently entered the house she lived in with her family, a few minutes after she had left Becky outside the well-kept little garden which surrounded her parents’ house. As soon as she entered the door she could sense that something was wrong. Her mother was furious and asked what she and Becky had done and why. Her angry words followed Kathleen all the way up the stairs as she fled into her own room. She didn’t need to strain her imagination to know what to expect when her Father arrived home.
They ate dinner in silence. No one mentioned Kathleen’s truancy, but it seemed to occupy the minds of her mum and dad, who exchanged numerous glances across the table. Her older sister’s knowing smirk alternated between gloating spitefulness and some undetermined feeling of anxiety, reflecting the state of tension as before a thunderstorm.
After the awful silence of dinner, Kathleen was told to wait upstairs until she was called. She lay on her bed unable to do anything, not even read a magazine. She stared up at the ceiling pondering on what her mum and dad would be talking about downstairs and worrying about what was going to happen to her when they called her down.
She had to wait for more than half an hour, but then her mother’s voice was heard clearly calling her down. Kathleen almost jumped from her bed, biting her lip.
Kathleen was remorseful and angry with herself and Becky, but there was nothing she could do to change anything. Down in the living room she stood flush-faced, her eyes downcast, listening to her mum who told her what the Headmaster had said on the telephone earlier that afternoon.
He had explained to Kathleen’s mum that Miss Wendel, one of the teachers, had seen them in the town and there had been further talk about how difficult it was to raise teenagers nowadays. Mum had asked him what would happen to her daughter at school. The Headmaster had answered that 17-year-girls couldn’t be punished corporally at school without their parents’ consent. Kathleen’s mother had at once given him permission to cane Kathleen for as long as she remained a pupil at the school and whenever she broke any of the rules.
During the time Kathleen’s mummy was talking, Father sat quietly and patiently in his chair. When his wife had finished lecturing their daughter, she made the necessary preparations for Kathleen’s spanking. She undid Kathleen’s tight jeans and together with the knickers, pulled them down below her knees. Kathleen had to lie across her Father’s knee, her bottom ready bared for him. He said that she had to learn what befell errant teenage schoolgirls when they were naughty and broke school rules.
Kathleen cried aloud, kicking and wriggling for several minutes whilst he used his hand on her. She was firmly held in that degrading position and her bottom was thoroughly smacked, red and smarting-hot when at last her father let her get up. Ashamed and with her eyes swollen by tears, Kathleen pulled her knickers and jeans up and was mortified to see the faint smile on the face of her sister, who had sat in the other armchair watching the punishment avidly. Kathleen, weeping, was then ordered to her room. She lay down on her bed blubbering until finally the smarting of her bottom subsided and she slept fitfully.
Two very dejected girls met the next morning at school, dressed in their best school uniforms. Their mothers, who of course knew that the girls were to visit the Headmaster’s office, wanted them to make a good impression. Everything looked immaculate, from the carefully ironed pleats in their skirts to their neatly pressed ties and snowy-white ankle socks.
Becky and Kathleen found the lessons more dreary than usual. They couldn’t help thinking about what was going to happen when they had their appointment with the Headmaster. It was quite impossible to concentrate on any of the different subjects their lessons were about. Neither of the girls was attentive but luckily the teachers hardly noticed. It was Friday and like the pupils, they were more concerned about what they had planned to do during the weekend.
At a quarter to four the last lesson finished. Kathleen and Becky had been reminded by their Form Mistress earlier in the day that they had to report to the Headmaster directly after school. They waited till the corridor was empty before they slowly went to his door from the lavatory, where they had hidden.
Blushing furiously they told Miss Hemsley that they were expected by the Headmaster. The secretary smiled a little in sympathy and told them to sit down and wait. She went into the Headmaster’s study and Kathleen and Becky sat nervously waiting in silence. After two or three minutes the secretary returned.
‘Right, girls,’ she said. ‘You can go in now.’
Smiling again, and knowing that the girls wished they could go anywhere else except into the inner office, she held the door open. In acute embarrassment the pair obeyed and Miss Hemsley quietly closed the door behind them. The reality of being in this predicament was so different to what they had dreamily imagined.
The girls entered with faces that were red beacons of shame and looking up, almost jumped out of their shoes with fright. Miss Cooper, their Form Mistress, was standing by the side of the Headmaster’s desk and the Headmaster was in his chair looking severely at them. The whole room was filled with an ominous tension. This was something the girls had not expected. Everything seemed to have gone wrong. They had definitely not expected a witness to be present — or perhaps Miss Cooper had been called in to administer their punishment? They had hoped so much to find themselves closeted alone with the Headmaster and both felt bitterly disappointed.
Two very unhappy girls stood in front of the desk, their eyes lowered and their tummies filled with strange fluttering feelings. At this moment they really regretted their silly caper. Nothing had gone as it was meant to.
Suddenly the Headmaster broke the tense silence and started to question them. He demanded an explanation of why they had played truant. His voice didn’t sound the way it normally did when they listened to him in their classroom. He was much more stern and severe now. He was truly frightening to stand in front of. The girls remained silent. Miss Cooper repeated his question, but the girls had nothing to say.
In different ways the Headmaster and Miss Cooper tried to make the girls at least explain something about what they had been doing and why, but the only sound they could get from the pair were snivelling little sobs.
‘Don’t you like your school at all?’ the Headmaster asked.
Yes they did, they liked the school, both girls assured him.
‘Is there one or are there perhaps several teachers you don’t get along with?’ he asked them.
‘Oh no, the teachers are all alright,’ Kathleen told him sulkily.
The question of why they had been playing truant came up once again. Again the girls silently looked down at their shoes. There seemed to be nothing more to be gained from questioning them and the Headmaster told them to lift their heads.
‘Kathleen and Becky,’ he said, sterner now than they had ever heard him before. ‘Your parents have given me their consent to punish you.’
The girls shuddered and began breathing deeply, feeling very scared as they listened to his words.
‘According to the rules for this school, I therefore intend to give you five strokes each with the light cane. Do you understand?’
He paused, looking at the two penitent schoolgirls. They nodded glumly.
‘Have you spoken to your parents about this punishment, Becky?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you too, Kathleen? Have your parents discussed the matter with you?’
‘Yes, sir!’ Nerves caused her to speak louder than expected.
The Headmaster looked at Miss Cooper and nodded. The Form Mistress turned a chair around with its back towards the girls. She asked Kathleen to step forward.
Kathleen obeyed. She had tears in her eyes and Miss Cooper helped her bend over the back of the chair. Kathleen grasped the edge of its seat with trembling perspiring fingers, and Becky gaped at her. This was not at all how the luckless pair had imagined things would turn out. Firstly, they hadn’t known their Form Mistress would be present. It was much more embarrassing and they felt ashamed and frightened. Secondly, when they had planned it, they had never seriously thought they would receive a real punishment. Now they felt convinced at last that the Headmaster intended to make their bottoms smart.
Miss Cooper raised Kathleen’s skirt displaying her long suntanned thighs and the new, tight-fitting cotton knickers that covered her shapely-rounded bottom. Kathleen’s skirt was high above her waist when Miss Cooper stepped aside. The Headmaster held a thin, pliable cane in his hand when he moved to the side of the chair.
‘Kathleen is quite a healthy girl, so you don’t need to hesitate in giving her a rather severe chastisement, sir,’ Miss Cooper said in a calm voice as if quite unconcerned and this were an everyday incident.
Becky didn’t dare to look up. She had been mesmerised by Kathleen’s knickers and her pert wincing bottom since Miss Cooper had lifted her skirt. Now she didn’t want to watch any more, and she shut her eyes as the Headmaster started to use his cane. The sound she heard was a crisp cracking noise as the thin cane landed right across Kathleen’s knicker-clad bottom. She heard her friend cry out and start to sob.
To be caned was much worse than being spanked, Kathleen felt. Her bottom was really tingling and burning where the stroke had landed. She had been caned once before when she was younger, by her old Headmistress, Miss Printon, but the fiery smarting pain she felt now told her that the new Headmaster struck a lot harder.
‘One,’ Miss Cooper said calmly.
The cane swished again through the air and bit lower down into Kathleen’s resilient flesh. The sharp report was followed immediately by a loud yelp of agony.
Becky closed her eyes hard and pressed her hands to the back of her skirt. It seemed to her she could feel the Headmaster’s cane stinging into her own bottom.
Eee… owww…!’ Kathleen cried out as she got the next biting whack.
‘Three,’ their Form Mistress said. ‘Bend over again, Kathleen. You have two more to come.’
Becky blinked her eyes with curiosity and saw that Kathleen had half stood up, and her hands were protecting her behind. She also saw reddening tramlined marks on the bare skin on both sides of Kathleen’s bottom where the knickers failed to cover the plump flesh.
Ohh… it hurts!’ Kathleen groaned miserably as she slowly bent over again, gripping the edge of the seat and pushing her bottom out.
Becky saw the cane flash through the air and hit hard across Kathleen’s blue, well-filled knickers. She heard the squeal and saw Kathleen wriggle her hips from side to side, moaning as the pain spread through her bottom-flesh.
‘Four. Just one more now, Kathleen,’ Miss Cooper said in the same level tone as before. ‘Be still now. It will soon be over.’
Becky closed her eyes again, and heard the whistling swishing followed by the sharp cracking sound. The cane bit into her friend’s yielding flesh, hard and hurting, and at the same time Kathleen’s yelp of pain filled the study.
‘Alright, Kathleen. You can stand up now.’ the Headmaster told the blubbering girl.
Becky blinked again and saw Kathleen straighten up clapping both palms to the seat of her knickers. Her skirt slid down but caught on her wrists, so it didn’t cover her knickers. She went stumbling away from the chair.
Gasping, Becky became aware that the Headmaster and Miss Cooper were looking at her.
‘It’s your turn now, Becky,’ Miss Cooper told her. ‘Come here and bend over the chair.’
Sniffling through her nose and with lips tightly pursed, Becky did as she was ordered. She felt scared and envied Kathleen who had nothing more to fear. She stopped beside the chair and almost blinded by her tears, bent forward. She felt apprehensive and vulnerable. Miss Cooper told her to push her bottom out, ready to receive the punishing strokes of the Headmaster’s whippy cane.
Her body flinched as Miss Cooper took hold of the hem of her skirt and raised it high. Cool air chilled the bare flesh of her thighs. Despite her deep shame Becky still remembered that she was displaying her brand new, tight-fitting blue knickers to them. Somewhere behind she heard Kathleen sobbing.
Becky’s skirt was turned up above the waist and she gripped the edge of the seat hard, clenching her buttocks and waiting for the first of the five whacks.
She didn’t have to wait long, and she wasn’t prepared for it when it came. The cane seared her nerves right across the middle of both buttocks, where her knickers gave only scant protection. Becky let out a yell of shock and pain; it hurt much more than she would ever have dreamed, as if her soft flesh had been singed. As an additional source of discomfort, the upper edge of the chairback cut into the lower part of her stomach and the upper front parts of her bare thighs.
‘One,’ Becky faintly heard the voice of Miss Cooper, who was again neutrally counting the strokes.
Becky tried to keep still but involuntarily moved her feet apart. She wanted so much to be brave. Kathleen had taken hers without too much fuss. She couldn’t behave like a coward. Again she cried out. Why did he have to hit so hard? Girls shouldn’t be caned. Boys should, but not girls.
Becky squealed again and tears rushed down her cheeks. She tried in vain to keep her eyes tightly closed.
‘Pull them up tight,’ the Headmaster said suddenly.
Hands gripped the elastic in her knickers and Becky knew that Miss Cooper was making them taut. The stretched knickers cut in between her thighs and slid upwards, leaving much of the lower halves of her buttocks bare.
‘Right. That’s enough,’ the Headmaster said.
Weeping, scared and ashamed, Becky had to bend relentlessly, offering up her half-naked bottom to the cane.
‘No-oo… no-oooh… owww!’ cried Becky as she felt the vicious smarting pain in her flesh below the legs of her knickers. It really did hurt to be caned there.
‘Four,’ Miss Cooper counted while Becky kept her left leg bent at the knee, in a futile attempt to protect her exposed behind.
Becky yelled as the cane again bit into the bare flesh close to her thighs. She was very much aware that she had received the last stroke and began to cry helplessly with pain and sudden relief.
‘Five,’ Miss Cooper said just as calmly as before.
Becky tried not to cry, but she couldn’t stop weeping. She felt a vicious fiery stinging all over her chubby well-rounded bottom.
‘It is over now, young lady,’ the Headmaster told her.
Becky awkwardly pulled herself together and stood up, letting the skirt slide down her now burning thighs. Holding both hands up to her face she tried to wipe the tear-wet cheeks.
‘Now you know what happens to naughty girls,’ the Headmaster told them both, less stern than before. ‘I hope you will learn from today never to be so stupid again. I’d advise you to spend some time in the washroom and wash your faces before you leave for home. You don’t want to look as if you have been crying when you meet people in the street.’
Neither Becky nor Kathleen could meet the Headmaster’s gaze as they turned and left his study. They didn’t look at the secretary when they passed through her room, but felt her eyes on their backs and were certain she had waited just to listen through the door to what was happening. She was most certainly smiling when the girls shuffled past her.
It was awful having been caned. They felt terribly sore inside their knickers. They knew from experience that there would be ugly swollen weals across their bottoms. If only they knew of a way to ease the pain.
In the lavatory they felt too embarrassed to talk. They splashed cold water on their faces and dried themselves and combed their hair.
‘Why did he have to let Miss Cooper be there?’ Kathleen croaked after a few minutes when they had recovered a little.
‘I didn’t like it either,’ Becky agreed, sounding desolate.
Gradually though they started to feel better. A little more water, more towelling and more combing made the time pass. Repeatedly they checked the mirror to see if anyone would be able to notice that they had been crying. Kathleen took a lipstick from her satchel and defiantly she painted her lips. She let Becky borrow it, though they both knew that they were not allowed to wear any kind of make-up.
When at last they were satisfied with their looks, they started to walk home. Their bottoms still felt tender, sore and hot, but already weren’t hurting anywhere near as much. Both were aware all the time that they still had marks across their bottoms from the Headmaster’s cane but of course those didn’t show when they were dressed. There was even a peculiar feeling that everyone must know. But they felt better. It was over now, they had nothing more to fear.
They were disappointed that their so carefully-made plan hadn’t worked, but whispering to each other, they tried to comfort themselves. Neither girl could feel angry with the Headmaster. It wasn’t really his fault. And five whacks wasn’t too awful. Perhaps, they told each other, the rest of their plan might work!
It wasn’t until Tuesday that he would take their class again. Would they feel embarrassed? Perhaps he would look at them more often than he had done before. They both hoped that they would not blush if he did. He would certainly remember that he had caned them and that he had seen their bottoms in those navy-blue knickers. Somehow they felt a new kind of excitement. They felt sure he would think about when he had caned them. Perhaps he would remember looking at them, bent over with their skirts raised and their blue knickers stretched across their nicely rounded girlish bottoms.
They would always remember…


  1. So love the first part of this story. It is like an accurate, simple account of normal family life - naughty girls, Kathleen & Becky end up over their father's knee with their botties bare for some appropriate tickle-tail. So far, so normal.

    A good, hard, bare bottom spanking is sound, traditional parenting & I hardly knew any daughter in my suburban church, Bible class or cheerleading group, who did not receive spankings from parents in my community.

    As an older disciplinarian, age 61, myself, I would even suggest harsher, spartan punishment for Kathleen & Becky, in the spirit of "spanking with love". For example, my sister & me, when naughty, back in the 1960s, gotten our knickers pulled down for 12 strokes of the cane from our mother (from an early age) That was the punishment.

    No wishy-washy chastisements existed in our home. Just the cane. We thought nothing of it because whoopings were a simple fact of life & a foundation of our religious education. But yeah, it stung like utter Hell on Earth on a bare bum!

    Oh my! After mom pulled up our 1950s, white, cotton panties, we gotten sent to our rooms. This was called a spanking, Fleas. It was real harsh but we learned to be good citizens over our strict, Christian childhoods. To me, it seems more unusual now than at the time, way back in the 1960s, when we all Southern belles, gotten our bare, whiter-than-white backsides tanned a good'un. Thank the Lord it still happens a bunch to daughters now in Georgia, albeit at a lower instance than back in the 1960s!!

    Too much sympathy & PC have reduced the number of bare red bottoms & increased the number of princess tantrums & farcical naughty steps. Oh my!!
    Thanks Fleas.
    Brenda xx