From: SFPo8@aol.com To: laura@netgate.net Subject: Next Door Next Door From his window, Ralph could see down into the back yard of the Happy Kids Daycamp. He could see the green lawn area and the turquoise pool with its inflated plastic toys, all of which he had seen many times before. He had often seen the children there, too, and heard them playing. Sometimes their giggling and laughter had made it hard for him to study. But today he had been unable to study for over an hour. His attention was drawn entirely to the sight and sound of six naked little boys and girls, standing in a line, reddened bottoms showing that they had already experienced one spanking such as a seventh child was now undergoing over the lap of the school's director. From what he had seen so far, Ralph knew that the spankings were far from over. His attention had first been caught by the sounds of high pitched giggles, unusually loud and piercing in intensity. Glancing from the window, he saw four of the little boys, about five or six years old, in excited discussion. They were deep in conversation, pointing to each other's trousers, laughing with exceptional animation. Another boy joined them from across the lawn, and then another; two girls played, quietly, in the shallow swimming pool, while Mrs. McCloud, the school's director, watched them. Her attention was entirely on the girls paddling in the water. The boys continued to giggle. "All right, children, out of the water, now. I have to go get your snack, and you know you must stay out of the pool while I am in the house." Mrs. McCloud arose and left the area. The two girls joined the boys, now almost hysterical with laughter. Ralph could not hear what they were saying. But from what happened next, it was clear what the topic of conversation had been. Suddenly, two of the boys moved to the edge of the pool, and two little arcs of liquid could be seen arising from their waists and descending into the pool. It seemed to be a contest, a contest accompanied by laughter and shrieks from the other children. Mrs. McCloud was nowhere in sight. More discussion followed among the children. Then the remaining five children all slid down their bathing suits. The three remaining little boys stood in line at the pool's edge, peeing as forcefully as they could, urged on by the two boys who had initiated the competition. Surprisingly, the two little girls, not to be outdone, lay on their backs at the pool's edge and tried, with only a little bit of success, to emulate the boys. It was at this moment, as five streams rainbowed into the pool that Mrs. McCloud suddenly appeared, almost dropping the snack tray she was carrying. Mrs. McCloud's outraged words carried easily in the morning air. "What are you children doing? Never mind, I can see for myself! How dare you! You know better! The pool is not a toilet. Boys and girls do not . . . uh . . . do that together. I am astonished . . . I don't know what to say . . . I never . . . all of you, together . . . watching . . . well, you need a good lesson! Every one of you. No, don't pull up those bathing suits. Leave them off. Tony and Alan, did you . . . did you . . . do the same thing . . . I mean, did you, er . . . go pee . . . like the others? I see it in your faces. All right, you take yours off, too. Now you're all going to get it! And you're going to get it on the bare bottom. You think it is all right for little boys and girls to watch each other, uh, pee, do you? Well then, you can watch each other get your bottoms smacked good and hard. And that's what's going to happen now. Line up!" Mrs. McCloud seated herself on a plain wooden bench and motioned to the children to line up in front of her. Mrs. McCloud was not an elderly woman; she was in her thirties, with an athletic build, and it was clear that she could apply a palm to a child's bottom with good energy. What Ralph, watching now in fascination, did not know was that Mrs. McCloud had been brought up very strictly, in a home where nudity of any kind was considered sinful. To her, this was not a childish prank to be ignored or forgiven. It was a serious breach of decorum to be dealt with as severely as could be justified. Ralph noticed the obvious anger in her gestures as she grabbed the first little boy by the arm, pulled him across her lap, and began to spank him with vigor. Yet Ralph could see that Mrs. McCloud was not trying to be cruel or overly harsh. After all, the child whose behind she had begun to smack was only five. It was a very little bottom after all, and it took very few strokes of the palm to make it start to blush pink, and to bring a few howls of anguish from the victim. In fact, no sooner had the child begun to cry out then Mrs. McCloud paused, seemed to consider a moment, and lifted the little boy from her lap. "Go stand at the back of the line, now, Eric," Ralph heard her say. "Andrew, get over my lap." And a new little boy was turned over her knee, and a new little behind began to be spanked. In only a minute or so, it was Andrew who stood at the back of the line, rubbing his now-pink bottom, while one of the two girls, Mariana, had her backside placed in position to feel the descending strokes of the McCloud hand. Ralph contemplated the scene below him with interest. Why did Mrs. McCloud have the children standing in line? Probably so that they could watch the other children being spanked. The scene would certainly remain in each child's memory for some time, he thought. What must it be like to be standing there, naked, seeing another child's bottom being energetically smacked while awaiting one's own turn? He could tell from the downcast glances and shuffling feet of the children waiting for the inevitable moment of truth that they were in extreme discomfort. At the same time, the children at the end of the line, their pink rumps showing the effects of Mrs. McCloud's attentions, could not help but be abashed at the sight they must have presented to their friends while undergoing their spankings. It was, he decided, a very effective routine. He continued to watch. After less than five minutes, seven sniffling children stood in line, most of them still rubbing reddened backsides. But then, to Ralph's surprise, the spankings continued. There was Eric, face down and bottom up, again being spanked, this time a little harder, and this time beginning to cry out a bit more. And just when he was beginning to really sob, it was Andrew's turn again, and as Eric returned to the end of the line, holding his now bright pink backside, tears running down his face, Andrew was getting another bare-bottom spanking, while Mariana awaited hers. The expressions on the faces of the children had changed. Each now knew a second spanking would be forthcoming. And, as the line moved on, it became clear that a third might follow. How many trips over Mrs. McCloud's knees would each child experience? Ralph began to imagine himself in that line. Ralph was fourteen. He had not been spanked, himself, for five years. But he remembered what it was like. And he could well imagine what it would be like to be standing in that line, watching his friends taken across that lap and be spanked, one after another, until his own turn came, and then watching again, waiting again, being spanked again, back at the end of the line. At the end of the line: that would mean a long, long, anguished wait. But the front of the line: that would mean another hard spanking in just a few seconds. Mrs. McCloud was not hurting these children too much. The spankings were short and not overly hard. But she was making the children watch each other, and be watched, and wait, and anticipate, and this, Ralph knew, would make the experience unforgettable, far harder to remove from memory that just a single, private spanking might be, no matter how severe. And then Ralph noticed one other phenomenon, and wondered if it were intended. Several of the little boys had become erect, either from being spanked, or from watching the others being spanked, or simply from being naked. The little girls noticed this too, of course, and were pointing, and the little boys tried to cover themselves with their hands. But there were still moments, just before being put over Mrs. McCloud's knees, or when the sting of a just-completed spanking forced hands to bottoms in an attempt to rub that sting out, when modesty was impossible. Ralph knew, then. These children had violated a taboo, as far as their teacher was concerned. They had urinated, publicly, together. They had acted shamefully. Now they were being shamed. Their red bottoms shamed them. And their nakedness shamed them. The boys were shamed by being seen, the girls by having to see. Ralph continued to watch, fascinated, feeling his own tension mount as he became unmistakably aroused. As he continued to observe the children, one after another, waiting, then bending across the lap, then feeling the hand descend on now bright red backsides, then standing up, ashamed, moving to the back of the line again for, perhaps, still another public bottom-smacking, Ralph found himself unable to tear his eyes away as he felt his own arousal increase. Slowly, purposefully, he unbuckled his belt to lower his own trousers.