As Debby ascends the stairs, she gives Tim one last woeful look. Her expression says it all. This will be a painful lesson. Still Tim’s cock stirs. The whole drama is exciting in an odd way. Like most young people his age, Tim has always been fascinated by others kids’ tales of memorable spankings. From the school paddle, to dad’s belt, to mom’s hairbrush, the lurid recounting of such punishments never seems to fail to get his pulse pounding. And now that it is he who is due for a formal tanning, his heart is racing like a locomotive.Next week it's Tim's turn. Will he still feel excited by spanking after he has had a taste of the paddle?
While Tim sits anxiously in the parlor, Debby is upstairs in her room. Obediently, she takes off her dress. Her heart is pounding, her mouth is dry. Why oh, why did they do it? She regrets every decision made last night. Except for making out with Tim. The feel of his hands on her body, their tongues entwined, the excitement she felt when she touched IT. It was so hard. She snaps back to reality and hangs up her dress. She removes her garter belt and stockings. She knows her mother will want her to be in nothing but her underwear, waiting.
She waits for ten minutes. Fifteen. Downstairs she can hear voices, the sounds of feet thumping, the slamming of the back screen door. Then quiet. The next sound she hears is the steady clump of someone climbing the stairs. It’s her mother, coming. The footsteps stop and the door to her room opens. Her mother enters.
“Deborah Ann, come with me.” She crooks her finger.
On shaky legs Debby stands and follows her mother down the hall. This is the ritual. All spankings are given in the parental bedroom. They enter the room. Debby stands, hands behind her in an unconscious gesture, as if to shield her seat from what is to come. She watches as mom goes to the closet door and opens it. The dreaded paddle is there, hanging on its hook. Her mother takes it and slaps the wood against her palm, as if reassuring herself that it will be adequate for the task at hand. She walks over and sits on the chest at the foot of the bed, still tapping the paddle in her palm.
“Come here, Debby.”
Debby takes a deep breath. This is it. She knows better than to disobey. But she tries one more time.
“Please, mom. This isn’t necessary. I’m too old for a spanking.” Debby realizes she is whining.
“Come here this instant, young lady. You are not too old, and you deserve to have your little fanny paddled good and hard. And that’s what you’re going to get.”
At this, Debby bursts into tears. Her mother takes her by the wrist and guides her down across her knees. Debby doesn’t resist. Her nose nearly touches the floor and her feet are off the ground. Her mother makes a few adjustments in Debby’s posture, elevating her hips just so, making her bottom a prominent target.
Debby feels her mother’s fingers in the elastic of her panties. Slowly the last bit of modesty is peeled down. The panties come to rest in her knee hollows. Debby has never felt so vulnerable and ashamed. Her bare bottom is the highest point of her body. She looks over her shoulder. “Please mother, no. I’ll never do it again. Don’t spank me.”
Joan Buxton picks up the paddle off the bed and looks her daughter in the eye. “You deserve every bit of this spanking, Debby. You will never drink alcohol again, not while you live under my roof. Imagine! Drinking and carrying on like you did. And to be arrested and brought home by the police. I was mortified. You just get yourself ready, missy. This will be a spanking you’ll never forget.” She raises her arm to shoulder level.
Splat! Debby feels the paddle before she hears the sound. It is a horridly intense sting that explodes across her bare fanny. Her whole body jerks.
Mom’s arm raises and descends in a blur of motion.
Splat! Crack! Whap! Debby flinches with each impact. They sound like pistol shots.
The paddle cracks down, smacking her bare bottom, one lick after another in this relentless barrage. It is a searingly hot pain that is visited on her rapidly reddening flesh, overwhelming in its intensity. She squirms and scissors her legs. She clenches and unclenches her bottom cheeks. Nothing can stem the excruciating waves of heat imparted by that wicked paddle. She wails and blubbers apologies, but nothing slows down the tempo of mom’s right arm applying the paddle to Debby’s wriggling fanny.
The paddling lasts for several minutes. Mrs. Buxton spanks soundly and thoroughly, applying the paddle at a rate of about one lick per second. It is devastatingly effective. Soon Debby is crying real tears. Joan Buxton intends to cover every inch of Debby’s bottom until it is uniformly red and she is satisfied that her offspring has learned a lesson she’ll never forget.
Downstairs, Tim waits in the parlor. But he can hear. Sound carries through the house. He hears the sharp crack of the paddle and Debby’s abject wails. It sounds like she is really getting her tail tanned. And it goes on and on. He is nearly shaking. Soon it will be his turn. At the same time he sees in his mind’s eye what it must look like, Debby’s luscious bare bottom upended over Aunt Joan’s knee, those fully rounded cheeks absorbing one harsh lick after another as the paddle cracks down again and again. He starts to develop a woody.
Upstairs Aunt Joan lectures as she spanks.
“Let this (smack!) be a lesson to you, Deborah Ann (smack! crack!). You will never (whap!) ever (crack!) ever (smack!) do that again! Do you understand? (Smack! Crack! Whap!)”
“Ow! Ow! Yes, mother! Please stop. Ow!” Debby squirms shamelessly. Tears pour from her eyes onto the floor. She is choking and hiccupping. Her bottom is blazing hot, like she sat on a hot stove top.
“Now,” says her mother putting down the paddle, “go back to your room.”
She lets Debby rise from her lap. Debby stands on wobbly legs and pulls her panties back up. She sobs as she attempts to rub the awful sting out of her bottom, then practically runs from her mother’s bedroom totally shamed, her fanny blazing.
Below, Tim hears the thump of Debby’s bare feet as she runs crying back to her room. He gulps. Time passes. Is she coming? He hears footsteps and he looks up. He can see Aunt Joan’s high heels appear as she descends the stairs. She is coming to fetch him.
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