From: SFPo8@aol.com
Subject: Dressing Down

"Dressing Down"

She knew it wasn't fair to dislike her stepfather just because he dressed so
badly. 

Her own father wore tailored suits, Italian shoes of soft leather, and fitted
shirts, each with a complementing silk tie which set off his rugged tan and
youthful good looks. 

Brad, on the other hand, wore pink shirts with yellow ties, blue striped
shirts with brown ties, and green socks.  How could her mother settle for
this man?  How could she have left Marie's dad and married Brad? 

Marie, at sixteen, understood the significance of the grunts and squeaks of
furniture in the small apartment they now occupied.  She overheard her
mother's ecstatic moans; she had heard Brad's howls; she understood coy
references at breakfast to how they had had "enough to eat" the night before.
 Yet she knew sexuality was normal and that her own resentment was inflamed
by her mother's remarriage.  So she tried to be accepting, and dutiful and
did not even resent Brad's assumption of responsibility for parental
discipline. Brad spanked very hard, but never on the bare, and never except
when it seemed deserved, and Marie accepted that he was trying, in his own
way, to be a father to her.

If only he didn't have to wear that humiliating pink and orange Hawaiian
shirt when they went to the mall.  If only she had not, in front of her
friends, had to tell her mother how she detested the way Brad looked.  

Although Brad had no taste, "moron" was probably inappropriate. 

"Dumb fuck" was definitely out of line.

And so her mother had, for the first time in years, spanked her.  Really
hard, and with a hairbrush, and her bottom was now far sorer and redder than
ever it had been when Brad had put her over his knee.  Mom clearly lost it as
she applied the wood to Marie's butt, over and over, promising, "Just wait
till your father gets home."

He wasn't her father, of course, but that wouldn't help.

Brad wasn't mean, or cruel; he never spanked as mother just had.  He had a
soft spot, a sense of pity.  Perhaps if - yes, that was it  - if he could
just see how soundly spanked she already was, he would not have it in his
heart to spank her hard.  Perhaps, this time it would be worth it to have
those  panties down, reddened bottom on display.  It would evoke his pity.
 It would prevent the spanking from being severe.  

And so, when Brad came home, Marie actually asked him, in her most penitent
tones, for a bare-bottom spanking.  She deserved it, she told him.  And
reluctantly he complied.  The panties were removed before Marie lay across
Brad's lap.

If Marie had only asked her mother, she might have avoided the resulting
painful fifteen minutes, the worst spanking of her life.  A completely color
blind man is equally unable to dress well and to detect the redness of a
soundly spanked bottom.