From: d123sr@aol.com (D123SR)
Subject: Story: Stephanie's Decision (Part 1)
Date: 12 Jun 1996 08:19:53 -0400

Stephanie's Decision

The following first person story is a fictionalized account of how many communities would like to handle the problem of juvenile delinquents. This report is neither and editorial for or against corporal punishment, merely a telling of the account from one point of view. Because of the nature of the subject matter - spanking - it is strongly suggested as reading only for those over the age of eighteen. Any reproduction for commercial gain without the written permission of the author is strictly prohibited.


My name is Stephanie and I'm a college first year student at a major mid-western university. This time last year, June, I was just another excited graduating high school senior. We lived in a medium sized county in the southwestern part of the United States. While not a valedictorian I was graduating in the upper 5% of my class, already had a scholarship to this college in place, and had great plans to spend most of the summer at the beach in place.

On "grad night" a few of us elected not to stay with the "established party" and go out for a long ride around rural parts of the county. Naturally there were a few six packs in the car. There were six of us - three boys and three girls, but we are all just good friends, no one was really paired off that night.

My girl friends, Lisa and Joni I had known since early childhood. The three boys were all somewhat new to town and none of us knew them that well, although Joni had dated the driver a couple of times. After a few beers we were in the mood to kick back and have some fun. One thing led to another and we ended up in the school parking lot with several cans of spray paint.

Soon spurred on by the beer and each other we had got inside the gym and made a massive graffiti mural on the main wall. This led to a couple of more pranks and before we knew it - we had made a real mess. Several thousand dollars worth. We also tripped an alarm and so long before my midnight curfew I was in the police station waiting for my parents to pick me up.

I, as were they, devastated. I had never even got a speeding ticket or received any form of punishment at school. The "good girl" had decidedly gone too far. I sobbed as I listen to the police sergeant explain the situation to my father. There would be a hearing before a juvenile judge in the morning. He was talking about some first time offender's program that would allow me to keep a clean record, but I remember him saying, "she'll have to pay if she wants to keep her record clean."

Mom and Dad had always believed, "if you do the crime - you do the time." But unlike my brothers I had never given them any trouble. They were besides themselves and didn't even want to talk to me that night. What I didn't know was this "plan" to keep first time offenders clean would be right along with their way of thinking.

I cried myself to sleep and by next morning my worries had intensified. A felony conviction would mean loss of my scholarship and college, as well as troubles for years to come. It was a quiet trip to juvenile hall that morning. My Mom and Dad only said, "We'll help you any way we can - but this was your choice - it'll be your consequence."

Sitting in front of a serious looking juvenile judge, everything seemed a blur. Lisa and Joni were there but the boys weren't. I found out later they were being tried as adults because a lengthy juvenile record kept them from being eligible for this program.

The judge looked down at the three "good girl" cheerleader types and really gave us a lecture. Then he explained our options: 1. Plead not guilty and have a trial before him; 2. Plead guilty and take our chances; or 3. Agree to the first time offenders program. If we successfully completed our punishment there would be no record and we could go on with life without the excess baggage of a felony conviction. We had done the act. There was no way around it. We all asked about the "program."

"It's quite simple," said the judge, " besides each of you paying $1,000 in restitution to the school, you have a choice of serving the next sixty days - starting tomorrow - in the County Youth Ranch; or receiving 'not less than 50, nor more than 75' whacks on your bare bottom with a wooden paddle." All three of us and our parents gasped.

"You have until tomorrow morning to decide," indicated the judge, "the paddling is done at the Youth Ranch. If you don't want to taste the paddle on your behinds then come prepared to spend your summer doing some pretty hard ranch work. Otherwise take the paddling and by noon you'll have paid your debt."

As we left the hearing we were ushered into a room by a court officer who explained even more details about the program and its options. The details of the paddling was explained to us and our parents as well as the working and living conditions of the Youth Ranch.

The $1,000 restitution would wipe out my savings, but at least I could get a job and work this summer and still spend some time at the beach - but not if I had to spend 60 days in a "kid jail." I along with Lisa and Joni decided to take the spanking and get on with our lives. The rest of that day and night were absolutely horrible. My parents didn't speak to me. My Father just kept shaking his head and my mother spent much of my time crying in her room. My two older brothers while somewhat amused did display some genuine sympathy - but the feeling among my entire family was that I was getting what I deserved...extreme, but deserved none the less.

Interestingly, my parents had not spanked me since I was a young teenager, and yet while thinking this was harsh, it still seemed fair to them.

The next morning we arrived at the County Youth Ranch a few miles from town. With its split rail fence, working pastures and large vegetable gardens it could have easily been just another southwestern spread.

As we walked into the reception area my Father asked me one last time if I was sure I wanted the paddling versus serving the time. I assured him that having a summer was more important than having a sore behind for a few days. I knew it would hurt. I knew that receiving the punishment on the bare behind would be very embarrassing and humiliating. And yet I didn't want to spend two months out here shoveling manure either - my choice was clear in my mind.

In the reception area there were two signs. One pointing to "Intake," on the right and the other to "Discipline Area" to the left. We went left, by this time I was really feeling frightened and my stomach was in knots. A thousand questions that would soon be answered were running through my mind, "Who would do it to me?" "How much would it hurts?" "Who would see me bare bottomed?" "How long would I have to be semi-naked?" This had all been covered the day before - but I was in such a fog that nothing really sank in to my mind.

Lisa and Joni were already sitting quietly with their parents waiting to be processed when we walked up. I signed the official forms explaining that I was accepting this punishment in lieu of jail time. Further, charges would be dismissed after successful completion of the paddling (along with financial restitution.) My knees began to shake and I had to sit down.

Just then a door swung open to the area marked "Paddling Preparation Area." An average looking woman in her late thirties, Officer Ryan, walked out and called us each by our names that were on her clip board. She told our parents they would have to wait in this room while we received our punishments.

In the preparation room we were instructed to remove all of our clothing and jewelry and place it in plastic bag to be given to our parents to hold until we returned. We were then issued a long gray t- shirt that hung just passed our behinds.

I guess I didn't hear them when this was covered the day before. I thought I would just be asked to pull my pants and underwear down to mid thigh and bend over a chair to receive the paddling. My brothers said that is what had happened to them as freshmen in high school. Having never really been in trouble, I had no frame of reference to go by.

The three of us had seen each other naked often but somehow we really felt shy and embarrassed as we slowly peeled off all of our clothing and placed it in the plastic bag.We had to stand on the bare wood floor naked until Officer Ryan returned from giving our clothes to our parents before we were allowed to put on our t-shirts.

She then took us out another door into a small waiting area next to the room marked "Paddling Room." This was all very real. I kept hoping I would wake up, but I knew it wasn't a dream. Two more official looking people, walked out of the paddling room and introduced themselves to us. The man was in his late fifties and was the equivalent of a "warden." The other woman was in her late twenties, maybe less than ten years older than we were.

She was introduced as the lead discipline officer - Sergeant Burnes (what an ironic name.) It was obvious she meant business. No appearance of cruelty - this was just her job and she took it very seriously.

We were each given one last chance to choose the time over the paddling. Though scared silly we each affirmed we had made our decision. The order was then established. Lisa first, then me, then Joni.

Lisa squeezed our hands and went with the three officers. Joni and I sat and tried not to hear or think. In just a few minutes we heard the first loud "whack!" Followed almost immediately by a Lisa's loud wail and moan. Over and over we heard the sound of the paddle and then cries and finally just Lisa's sobbing. Then it was quiet.

The door opened and Lisa walked gingerly back to our area. She was naked and holding the t-shirt in her hand as she gently rubbed her crimson red behind. Joni and I were speechless. It was then that we realized that bare behind also meant bare everywhere else. But that seemed the least of Lisa's worries. The pain in her buttocks completely blocked any thoughts of the embarrassment of being nude in front of strangers and friends.

Trembling I was led into the room. In the center of the room was a table height contraption designed for the "spankee" to lean over. It was covered in dark leather. The back two legs had three straps to secure me at my ankles, knees and mid thighs.

When I was firmly secured Officer Ryan motioned for me to remove my shirt. Pleading I asked, "Can't I just pull it up? Please?" She shook her head and I began to softly cry as I pulled the shirt over my head and displayed my total nakedness. I was embarrassed, humiliated and scared - but like Lisa I would soon forget my nudity.

Bending over I discover hand grips to hold on to on the front legs of the "contraption." A strap was placed over the center of my back and pulled tight - pressing my small bare breasts into the soft leather. Additional restraints were then used at my wrists and elbows. I was bound, naked and couldn't move.

The paddle was about 20 inches long and three inches wide by about 1/4" thick. I had got a good look at it while I was being strapped in to the device. The warden type nodded to Officer Burnes and she stepped behind me and without any announcement landed the first blow on my bare bottom.

I would have jumped but the restraints kept me in place. Instead I screamed and without thinking let out a stream of foul cursing. "That'll be five more," said the warden. Then I understood the sentence, "not less than fifty, nor more than seventy-five." My reaction determined how many strokes I would get up to a maximum of seventy-five.

As each succeeding blow landed, I let out a scream or a moan but no more cursing. By twenty-five my butt was on fire. At thirty I was begging them to stop. By forty I knew I couldn't take any more, but they kept coming. Finally I heard, "53, 54, and 55!"

It was over. I had made it. As they released my restraints my hands went to rub my backside. My butt literally felt like it was on fire. I was handed my shirt but at that moment, I like Lisa before me didn't care if the whole world saw me naked. I just wanted to rub the fire away.

Lisa was standing and she held my arm and kept saying, "It'll be OK." She had put her shirt on and was trying to console me just as Joni had tried to comfort her. We cried and hugged as we waited for Joni to receive her punishment and then we both comforted her as she too came out of the room naked and sobbing in pain.

Our bottoms hurt for the rest of the day and the ride home was not fun. But "our debt to society" had been paid and we could get on with our lives. I learned a lot about myself because of the experience. I know am a lot more careful if anyone says, "Hey let's go for a ride and have some fun."

I know that I never want to be in the position I was in when I was bound naked over the table and receiving "judgement board." Would this work for all first time offenders? I don't know - but I know this, there are three girls out here in the great Southwest who will swear it worked on us.