Subject: Story: Scout Meeting, pt. 1 (M/f, RL)
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Hbrushed)
Date: 3 Mar 1998 03:43:25 -0800
This is not a work of fiction, but rather a memoir of a lesson that I learned many years ago. It involves the spanking of an 12 year old girl (me!), by her (deservedly!) angry daddy. If that bothers you, please click this window closed. Naturally - if you are under 18 you shouldn't be reading this anyhow, so please go on about your business. Additionally, you each should know that I had, and continue to have a great relationship with my parents, and that I'm not interested hearing what monsters you might think they are or were. They were doing what society, at that time in our town, believed was right. They were/are loving, caring parents who also believed that a warm bottom was an effective way of helping a girl learn how to behave herself. Spankings back then were expected and not thought to be cruel or unusual - even by those of us who got them. I hope you like the story. I'd love to have feedback here or by e-mail if you are so inclined.
As I mentioned before, neither Mom nor Dad was the designated spanker' in our family. Whoever discovered the misbehavior, or was closest to the misbehaving one, or was the angriest delivered the spanking. I've already recounted some of Mom's spankings, so I thought that it is about time to introduce dad in his role as disciplinarian.
I was a pretty active Girl Scout when I was growing up, and I really enjoyed the camping and such, but many of the meetings were really boring. Some of my friends and I discovered that if we made plans in advance, and if we were quick about it, we could sneak off when our parents dropped us off for a meeting and sneak back just as the meeting ended to get picked up. This would give us about 1-1/2 hours of free time in town, usually at the local hang-out meeting our other friends. We only wore our uniforms for special meetings, neither our moms nor our scout leaders wanted us to ruin them by wearing them to every meeting, so we didn't have to worry about looking stupid in our uniforms in town.
On the night of our last free tour of town, I started the evening out as a happy-go-lucky 12-year-old, in complete control of her destiny. We had a great time in town, doing nothing in particular, just enjoying being 'free' for a while. It was my bad luck that one of the leaders came out and, seeing me crawling into the car, scampered over to ask where I had been. Trapped between Dad and the big chief girl scout I knew that I was caught and decided that my best defense was making a full confession.
I blubbered (to show both of them how terribly sorry I was) and told all. Dad said nothing as the big scout scolded me and loudly stated that she hoped I would be punished. Dad apologized for my being a problem to her, assured her that he would punish me, then drove us home in complete silence. I boo-hoo'ed a good bit and said "I'm sorry" a million times, but I got no reaction from my driver. This was worse than if he would have been lecturing me! He had told the old bat that I would be punished, and I clung to the reasoning that he said 'punished', not 'spanked,' and therefore I might not get a spanking.....silly me!
When we entered the house he finally broke his silence. After a terse, "Tell your mother what you have been doing, then go to your room. I'll be up shortly," he disappeared. His statement, "I'll be up shortly," meant that I was probably going to be spanked. There wasn't much reason for us to meet in my room if all he was going to do was scold.
I found my mom in the kitchen, working her daily crossword puzzle, and began my tearful confession, including the fact that I was to go to my room and that Dad was going to meet me there. I think that the only thing that saved me from going across her knee right there in the kitchen was her realization that Dad had claimed this naughty daughter's spanking for himself.
I had been hoping that Mom would understand and would intervene on my behalf to spare my bottom, but it was not to be. She yelled and scolded and told me of all the horrible things that could have befallen me while I was unsupervised and unchaperoned wandering about the town (in my town? Yeah, right!). Then she scolded me for lying to her and dad, pretending to attend my meeting but skipping out on the town. Finally she told me that I had better not keep my dad waiting, and to go on upstairs.
"But Mom, I'm so sorry, and I swear that I'll never do it again! I promise, really, and it was Mary and Amy that made me go, really, Mom! I'm really sorry, but it is all Angela and Linda's fault!!"
Mom had the greatest gift for speech, for phrasing things so well that she could convey her meaning without really saying the essentials...
"Well then, Miss Pamela, I hope that Angela and Linda get spankings, too. Now get up to your room right now, little lady. You are in enough trouble without all this stalling."
She never said that I was going to get spanked. She just hoped that Angela and Linda got spankings....but what was that word, "too"? Doesn't "too" mean the same as "also?" Oh, no!!!
I was in tears as I started upstairs, and it got no better when I met my sister Tammy coming down the steps. Tammy and I shared a room, and apparently Dad had already cleared the decks. Tammy was carrying some of her schoolbooks as we met at the bottom of the steps.
"Boy, are you in trouble, Pam, what in world did you do? Daddy busted into our room and told me to go do my homework at the kitchen table because he needed to have a talk with you! Wow, are you in trouble, Pam - I just know he's gonna give you a spankin' - why else would he make me leave? What did you do to him? Wow, does he look mad, I'm glad I'm not you!!!" Tammy was usually greatly entertained when I needed a spanking, and I should have taken advantage of this rare show of concern, but I didn't.
"Waah! I didn't do anything!! Leave me alone!!" It seemed as if everyone in the world knew that I was going to get spanked except me. I was still trying to convince myself that he wasn't that mad. I tried to push her away, but she was bigger than me, and my push only made her angry with me when she had been trying to be concerned.
"Go on, little baby, go get your spanking like a little girl. I hope Daddy pulls your panties down too, you little brat, and blisters your bare butt!"
"Waaah!!!" I can't think of any clever response, so I just run past her with the words 'bare butt' ringing in my ears. My nasty, nasty sister gives me a hard smack on my rear as I run by.
"Oh, please, don't let her be right, please, I couldn't stand it," I think to myself as I scamper up the steps. I reach my room, and sorta slam the door behind me. I say sorta, because Mom and Dad have both visited with me about door slamming, and their disapproval of this habit of mine. So even though I really wanted to slam that door off its hinges, I only slammed it just a little. No sense in making a bad situation even worse! I fell onto my bed, and began to cry about the trouble I was in.
Other folks have accurately described that awful waiting period. All of the signs indicated a spanking in my very near future, even my dumb sister knew that. I alternately raged that I was too old for a spanking, then worried about how I would be dressed and how bad it might hurt if he did spank me. What if Tammy's wish comes true and he pulls down my pants?
"Oh! Oh! Why did I ever go downtown?" "Oh! Oh! Why did I get born into a family that spanks?" "Oh! Oh! Why do they pull down my underwear when I get my spankings?" "Oh! Oh! Why can't I have Cindy's parents? She says that they never, ever spanked her in her whole life, and I can't seem to go a whole month without getting a spanking?" "Oh! Oh! Why do I get myself into these things?" "Oh! Oh! If I can only get out of this, I promise me to never do anything like this again, never!"
Finally the door opened, admitting my grim-looking dad, and he closed the door gently behind him. I sat on the edge of my bed, crying and apologizing, as I endured the "I'm so disappointed in you" lecture which really made me sad and truly sorry. There was no yelling, no warnings of what my punishment would be, or how sorry I would be. There was just quiet fatherly lecturing, warnings of how foolish it was to run around town, and how sorry he was that I had lied. When he asked how many times I had done this in the past, I told the truth - it had been several times. This was probably a stupid time to be truthful, for it seemed to anger him even more. Confession may be good for the soul, but it ain't too good for the rear end, and I was about to learn that moral, too! Finally he reminded me that he had promised the big chief scout that I would be punished and told me that my punishment would be a good spanking.
Now he had said it, out loud, and I fell apart. The tears were pouring down my face as I begged and pleaded, and hiccuped, and promised, and cajoled and bargained. What a contradiction in terms for a 12-year-old girl! There is no such thing as a "good" spanking to a girl caught misbehaving! It looked as though I was going to get a long spanking, probably a hard spanking, maybe even a bare-bottomed spanking -- but none of these was a 'good' spanking, as far as I was concerned!
He helped me to stand, then took my place on the edge of my bed.. The lecturing was over, and he was silent now, but I more than made up for his silence with my yammering. There was silence from him and sobs and promises from me as he undid my pants and pulled them wide open in the front.
Dad usually spanked my bare bottom, but he did leave my panties on just often enough that I could always hope that the spanking I was about to get would not be bare-bottomed. Mom would sprinkle her yelling with the phrase "...your bare bottom, young lady..." or "...with your underpants pulled down, little miss..." quite a bit when she was preparing to spank me, so I knew what was coming. Dad never tipped his hand. Would he? Wouldn't he? I just didn't know. As I stood there with my pants all undone leaving a little bit of panty peeking out at him, bawling and protesting how sorry I was, I was hoping that my true remorse would save my underwear. There is darned little cushioning provided by a pair of panties, but oh, how important they were to me!
I couldn't believe that my big, wet tears and sorrowful puppy-dog eyes didn't move him. I was doing my absolute best to have him scold me and let me off with a warning! How anybody could even think about spanking such a sorrowful, penitent and cute little lady is beyond me. Of course, he is the father of three girls as well as a son, all three girls inclined to naughtiness and theatrics, so I was just the latest actress to play the part of the little girl too sorrowful to be spanked. Being the youngest of the lot, by the time I tried that act on him, he'd seen all the sad daughter looks ever created, and it had no effect on him.
My stomach flipped and I squealed as he grabbed a handful of my pants at each hip and, in spite of a heroic attempt on my part to keep them up, pulled them right down to my ankles in one smooth motion. Oh! No!! He took my pants down!!!! Booo-hooo!!!!
It took my brain another second to realize that he had also hooked his thumbs into the sides of my panties as he pulled down my pants. The loud, earnest and tearful "Daddyyyyyyy nooooooo, pleeeeeeeease, I'm sorrrrrrrryyyyyyy" had had no effect on him whatever. Holy Moses, was I ready to die.....12 years old, standing square in front of my dad, completely bare from my belly-button to my ankles!!! And not only am I standing here bare, he is about to give me a spanking!
It wouldn't have mattered if he had spanked me bare an hour before, I wouldn't have been prepared for him to see all of me. Each time that he pulled down my panties for a spanking I was as embarrassed as if it was the first time that he had ever seen me bare. He was, of course, completely unaffected by the sight of his undressed daughter. Remember that I was often mischievous enough to have my undies taken down for a spanking, and also that I was the youngest of his three daughters. What he was seeing when I was standing there all bare below my waist was nothing that he hadn't seen a hundred times before -- and not just mine, but Tammy's and Jennifer's, too. He never stared at my fuzzy little patch, but he never looked away either.....his reaction was about the same as you would expect if he made me take off my socks. I, however, was a complete wreck! BARE! In front of DADDY! A MAN !! Of course I kept my hands over the most femine part of me, but I knew that he was seeing all of me anyhow and was mortified. As I said, the fact that we had been through all this before and that he had pulled my panties down when he spanked me a week, 2 or 3 ago held no comfort for me.
Finally he took his half-bare 12-year-old girl by the hands, and I was unceremoniously guided/lifted/turned/dumped over his knee and shifted a bit until I was perfectly positioned. Horrors again!! Now he is seeing my bottom all bare too!!!! How unfair!! I squeezed my bottom, legs, thighs and every other muscle that I could squeeze just as tightly as I could.
When Mom spanked, she liked to use these last few seconds for another lecture while I lay squirming across her lap waiting to get my spanking. Not Daddy -- he was done talking and was all business. He pulled my hand into the small of my back, I screeched at the top of my lungs, and my spanking started. Hard and fast he spanked as I squirmed and squealed and pleaded for mercy, but he had spanked me often enough over the years to tune all that out!
He was not going to be swayed into stopping this spanking by high-pitched feminine squeals and promises. His hand worked all over my bottom and the tops of my legs, though he gave most of his attention right to the middle of my bottom cheeks. Daddy never spanked me with a hairbrush the way Mom sometimes did, and he didn't need to! His hand was the size of Wyoming, and my bottom was the size of Rhode Island. He spanked and spanked and spanked and spanked until I was no longer pleading, apologizing or saying anything, I was just crying. I was no longer crying just because of the indignity of being spanked at 12 years old or because he had pulled down my underpants. I was crying because I had been a bad girl and bad girls get spankings, and because my spanking was setting my bare bottom on fire.
Finally my spanking ended, but my crying was still in full swing, and I simply laid on his lap bawling like a little girl. The birth certificate still said 12 years old, and there were enough of the effects of puberty to confirm that age, but everything else indicated that the little lady on Dad's lap was a well-spanked little girl of 5 or 6. Finally, I wriggled off his lap, and my only concern was the fire raging on my hips. Geez, had he spanked me, and my poor little bottom was simply burning up. Before being tilted across his knees, modesty kept both hands over the bare proof of my being a girl...after rising from his knees my modesty gave way to my spanked rear, and both hands tried to soothe the spanked parts, allowing him the prolonged opportunity to confirm that I was still a girl -- and at that particular moment I could not have cared any less. The whole neighborhood could have been standing in my room watching me, and I'd have still had to rub my bottom and leave the rest of me bare. Dad must have had quite a chuckle at the beginnings of each of my spankings as I did my best to cover myself when he knew full well that by the time he was done with me I'd be showing him everything with careless disregard!
As patiently as he waited for me to get off his knees, he waited for my little 'War Dance' to end, and for me to settle down a little. He warned me that if I ever pulled another stunt like this, he would spank me again, and that if I would just behave myself he wouldn't have to spank me at all. Since it was late in the evening, he told me to put my pajamas on and either go to bed or come downstairs.
I chose bed (and soft pajamas!), but didn't have that chance until after mom arrived to cluck and prattle about my behavior and how I had deserved the spanking that daddy had given me, and ask for assurances that I would never do such a thing again. She solemnly told me how lucky I was that my dad had spanked me, since she would have given me a spanking for this if he hadn't.
" ... with your underpants pulled straight down, little miss, and with my hairbrush, too!! You needed a good spanking, and I'm glad that you got one. Yes indeedy, little lady, you are lucky it was your father who spanked your bare bottom, Pamela, instead of me, and if you do this again, you won't be so lucky!!"
Not to contradict Mom at all, but I found it awfully hard to feel lucky right at that time. I had just had my daddy tug down my pants and panties, and spank my bare bottom. And I still had a bottom warm enough to fry eggs on! For this I am lucky? It sure didn't seem to be something to feel very lucky about! Although she acted mad, I really think she just came in to make sure that her daughter was okay, and reinforce that even though Daddy had done the deed, she agreed 100 percent with his decision to spank me.
Although Dad never said anything again about my tours of town, or the spanking he gave me for it, I did notice that for the next weeks he didn't drive off until I entered the school for my scout meetings, and I made sure that he saw me going straight in! Neither of us cared to have a repeat of the offense or the spanking, and we were proving our earnestness!
Other than saying that we got in trouble, neither Angela nor Linda nor I ever confided in each other just what kind of trouble we had each been in. At the time, I was convinced that I was the only one that got a spanking, but now I'm not so sure. Knowing them and their families now, so many years later, I'd bet that Mom's hope came true. I'm pretty certain that there were three Girl Scouts turned over various knees receiving spankings that night, and three red bottoms tucked into bed -- and I'll even bet I wasn't the only one who got turned over a knee with her panties pulled down!