An Insider's View

[carl35]

“AN INSIDER’S VIEW”

By Carl Michaels

(NOTE: This story is a fantasy. The author does not advocate the corporal punishment of children.)

I grew up in a traditional family of three kids with strict parents who were firm believers in the value of carefully applied corporal punishment. The last spanking I got was also the worst and the most embarrassing; it happened when I was fifteen. At that time, my sister Gwen was 14 and my brother Reid was 11. I've never really talked to anyone outside my family about this subject, but it's a big part of who I am, and one of the keys to my emotional development. Since the internet provides a certain degree of anonymity, I've decided to take advantage of this forum to give readers an insider’s view of discipline in my family.

Although my parents were quite strict and determined to keep us out of trouble, they were also very fair and by no means cruel. In retrospect, I think we actually had it better than some of our friends who were grounded instead of being spanked (although we certainly wouldn’t have admitted that when we were facing a spanking!). Groundings often lasted for weeks at a time, and from what I gathered hard feelings among family members kept building that whole time. With a spanking, it was embarrassing and it stung like crazy, but once it was over it was over. The slate was wiped clean and you were forgiven; no hard feelings remained except for those you felt in your rear end each time you sat down for the next few days.

In our family, Mom was the designated spanker. (Actually, Mom spanked the kids, and Dad spanked Mom--a carefully guarded secret that we weren't supposed to know about!) Spankings for us kids were of two types. "Type One" spankings occurred on the spot, when and where one of us kids ran afoul of the rules. While these spankings were certainly on our list of things to be avoided, they weren't severe; they consisted of a trip across Mom’s lap, pants pulled down or skirts turned up for about two dozen good swats. But like all spankings, they stung and they were embarrassing, especially since they were carried without regard for the presence of witnesses (family members only, that is). If we acted up in front of extended family, we could count on being spanked in front of them: grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, whoever. The embarrassment factor also increased as we grew older: Once when I was 13 and my cousins were visiting, I was acting particularly bratty and Mom pulled me over her lap for an attitude adjustment. I begged my mom not to spank me in front of my cousins as if my life depended on it! Her response was that embarrassment was part of the punishment; if I didn't want to "get it" in front of the family, all I had to do was follow the rules. I hung my head and sighed, defeated by superior logic.

"Type Two" spankings were another phenomenon altogether. These were reserved for serious infractions of the family rules, such as cheating at school, lying, smoking or drinking, and gross defiance. As we were fairly good kids most of the time, they didn't happen often, but when they did, they were full-blown, ritualized events. My parents were inventive (as you will see!), and they managed to make these punishments quite memorable without bruising our bottoms or breaking the skin. They were serious about deterring these kinds of misbehaviors, and they were successful! To this day, my mom takes pride in the fact that none of her kids ever had to get a Type Two spanking for the same offense twice. Although they provided great entertainment for the kids who were not currently in trouble, they were no fun at all for the one who was. If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to tell you the story of my worst—and last—spanking.

* * *

One Friday afternoon in the fall when I was 15, I gave in to my curiosity about cigarettes, and decided to try one with a friend behind the bleachers at school. A neighbor spotted me, and helpfully passed the information on to my mom. Confronted about it when I got home, I made the seriously unwise decision to deny it. Soon I was in my room, changing out of my school clothes and dreading the bare bottom spanking I was about to get in front of the whole family. Since there were two separate spankable offenses, I knew this was going to be a two-day punishment. To make matters worse, my aunt, uncle, and two cousins just happened to be visiting for the weekend!

Along with my brother and sister, I was proud (Not!) owner of a pair of dropseat pajamas, referred to in the family as punishment pajamas. These were so decidedly juvenile in appearance that, for anyone over the age of ten, just being seen in them was itself a punishment! Mine happened to be baby-boy blue and covered with brown teddy bears. Mom had given me ten minutes to go the bathroom, change, and appear downstairs in my punishment pajamas. We weren’t allowed to wear underwear for these punishments; we had to go downstairs with the underpants we’d been wearing in hand. The terrible thing facing me now was that it had been two years since my last Type Two, and I’d quite outgrown the pajamas! I squeezed into them and my bottom strained against the fabric. When I looked at myself in the mirror, my heart sank and my face flushed. The bottoms were the ultimate “high water pants,” and the top stopped six inches above my belly button! Due to the underwear restriction, little was left to the imagination in front. I panicked, and briefly considered changing back into my school clothes and going down to tell Mom that I’d outgrown my punishment pajamas and couldn’t wear them. Then I thought about how angry she was at the moment, and quickly discarded the idea: any alternative might actually wind up being worse! I tiptoed out of my room, white briefs in hand, hoping no one would see me. No suck luck: My sister Gwen was right there in the hall!

“Hey Carl, love the outfit!” she said with a broad smile. “Might I suggest something a little smaller?” I cringed and my face blushed more deeply; she swatted me on the butt as I walked past. This was going to be a long evening.

[End of Part One]

[49O]

A good story so far. thanks

[carl35]

“An Insider’s View” by Carl Michaels – Part Two

After I completed my “walk of shame” downstairs, my worst fears were realized: Aunt Susan and Uncle Jay had already arrived with my two cousins. They were all standing near the foyer as I crept downstairs, my face and neck a deep shade of red. 12-year-old Bobby pointed and laughed out loud at his ridiculously attired older cousin; Carrie (with whom I share a birthday, incidentally) rolled her eyes and giggled. Gwen caught her eye as she descended the stairs behind me, and the two exchanged a look that said, "This is going to be an entertaining weekend!"

My mom announced, "Please excuse Carl’s appearance, everyone. He thought it would make him look cool to try smoking cigarettes. Then he thought he could avoid being punished by lying to his mother. By the end of the weekend, I’m sure none of you kids will think there's anything the least bit 'cool' about either." Clearly, Mom meant to make a memorable example of me. I stood with my head down under the withering gaze of my relatives.

"Smoking?” Uncle Jay demanded. "You’ve gotta be kidding!"

Aunt Sue added sharply, "You do realize that you’re the oldest, and should be setting a GOOD example for the others."

I briefly considered pointing out that I only had four hours on Carrie, but I was smart enough to let it go. Instead, I said with genuine remorse,

“Yes, Ma'am, Aunt Susan. I'm sorry, Uncle Jay.”

My dad started taking coats. Well, you will be soon enough," he declared.

“Does he have to wear his punishment pajamas all weekend?” Carrie asked. She was obviously enthusiastic about this possibility.

Mom replied, “He has a second punishment coming for lying, so definitely all day tomorrow,” If he’s VERY lucky, he’ll get his clothes back sometime on Sunday.”

She pointed to the front door. “Alright, young man. Time to fly the flag.”

I blanched visibly while Gwen, Carrie and Bobby smiled broadly. What was about to ensue was perhaps the worst part of the Type Two punishment ritual—the only part that was actually “public.” My stomach flipped over as I imagined every one of our neighbors looking out their windows at that precise moment. On this chilly autumn afternoon, I had to step outside barefoot in my teddy bear pajamas and walk down the steps to the end of the driveway. Once there, I was required to tie my Hanes briefs to the mailbox, where they would remain until my punishment was over. This was hugely embarrassing, of course, but it actually served to prevent a worse humiliation. Other family members (my brother Reid, in this case) coming home would see the “spank flag” flying and know better than to invite anyone in for the family-only event in progress.

I wanted to run back inside like a track star, but I knew that if I didn’t walk at a normal speed I’d have to repeat the whole process. In my imagination, all the neighbors had their eyes glued to my dropseat flap and teddy bears--especially the gorgeous 17-year-old Danielle who lived across the street. I forced myself to walk at a normal pace up the steps, and I felt great relief once I was inside the house!

That relief was decidedly short-lived. I saw my mother sitting on the couch with an instrument of pure evil in her hand. Immediately I started pleading and whining.

“Please Mom, I’m too old for that. Can’t I just have the spanking? Please?”

She just stared back at me and beckoned me with her index finger. She was none too pleased with her oldest son at the moment, and it was clear she meant to follow this punishment protocol to the letter. Shedding the first of many tears, I sighed and walked to my doom, groaning as I placed myself awkwardly over her lap. Carrie had kicked off her shoes and joined Gwen and Bobby on the floor where I’d be looking straight at the three of them. None of them were going to miss this highlight of the evening; my facial expressions were going to be priceless!

Some explanation may be in order as to why my parents allowed the other kids to tease so mercilessly. When one of us earned a Type Two, it was held that we had dishonored the whole family with our behavior. While it was the parent’s role to punish, the other kids were actually expected to witness and to tease; it was their contribution to the discipline. Once the punishment was over and the guilt expunged, they were no longer allowed to reference it. Odd perhaps, but that’s the way it was.

Mom opened the flap in my ultra-tight pajamas to reveal a white bare bottom that contrasted markedly with my lingering summer tan. The feeling you get when your rear end first comes into view is like no other! I was immediately overwhelmed by the feeling of embarrassing over-exposure. Then Mom said, "This flap is much too tight, I need to make an alteration. Gwen, please bring me a pair of scissors."

My sister leaped up and got the scissors from the kitchen drawer, then forced herself to walk back and hold the scissors correctly.

My mother proceeded to make two cuts on either side of the flap. She then pulled the fabric down, causing a terrible ripping sound. Now she had full access to my bottom, as well as most of my thighs. "Much better," she declared.

As Mom opened me up back there and slid a cold homemade punishment suppository into my anus, I hung my head and wept at the humiliating reality of the situation. That part of my anatomy proceeded to betray me by pulling the chilled invader in of its own accord! Mom held me tightly over her knee, waiting for the ginger root to take effect. Within ten seconds I started to squirm a bit. After 20, I was hit with a burning sensation that steadily grew inside me! I twisted and drummed my toes into the carpet.

“Oww! Take it out, please! It burns!!”

Of course, she couldn’t take it out now even if she wanted to. The awful thing was deep inside me and would continue tormenting me until it melted completely away. She had already lubricated the Hideous Three-Inch Plug of Death, as we kids referred to the anal plug we would do just about anything to avoid. She gave me two sharp swats on the butt and commanded, “Stop clenching!” This bordered on the impossible: How can you will your rear end to relax when there’s a burning suppository inside you and a big plug about to join it?! As she pushed the dastardly thing inside me, my anus pulled it in tight, and I levitated on her lap, emitting an involuntary squeak. The plug would remain there overnight. Aunt Sue leaned over, took my chin in her hand in her hand and said, “You’re going to be on fire from the inside out tonight, young man. I hope you remember how this feels the next time you feel like ‘lighting up!’”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I groaned tearfully. I knew she was right, and I knew I would!

“Whoa! Carl’s getting a Type Two? Whaddid he do?”

Great, my little brother was home. It was gonna be standing room only for my spanking.

My dad said, “Your brother decided to try smoking, then he tried to lie his way out of trouble. I hope you’ll learn from his punishment.”

“Oh yes, Sir, I will.” Reid grabbed a soda out of the fridge, and joined the other kids. "Sucks to be you, bro," he said with a smile. It certainly did.

Mom helped me to my feet, and I immediately started hopping from foot to foot in a vain attempt to quell the inner sting. Through my tears, I took in the room: Four kids wearing grins, and four adults with serious-as-a-heart attack expressions. In their view, I was being properly punished for setting a terrible example for the younger kids.

“Alright, young man,” my mother commanded, “an hour in the corner.”

Walking most uncomfortably, I headed for The Punishment Corner, which was in the family room to the right of the TV. I put my nose and toes in this corner, placing my hands over my head. Hanging from a hook on the wall was an old fashioned hairbrush that had never been used on hair. Using a remote control, Mom turned on my plug, and I jumped a bit—you're never quite ready for the weird sensation when that thing first starts vibrating! I struggled to remain quiet and still despite the burning in my bowels and the buzzing in my butt, knowing that moving or making noise during corner time was a ticket to a much longer, harder spanking.

Drinks were served, conversations started, the TV switched on. I stood there with my bare bottom sticking out into the family room, burning up above from embarrassment and down below from the suppository’s sting. As if enduring an hour of bare bottomed corner time in this state weren’t torment enough, the remote was strategically located where anyone could reach it and turn it off and on again, enjoying the reactions they got. It had four vibration speeds, and the boys in particular found this irresistibly fun to play with. Even Uncle Jay had a go! The first time it hit the highest speed, I let out a squeal and rose up on my toes, much to the delight of my audience.

After awhile the TV captured everyone’s attention and I was spared the constant changes in butt-buzzing vibration. This was when corner time got surreal: in one sense, you know you’re the center of (unwelcome) attention; but in another, life seems to kind of go on without you. I stared at the wall and tried hard to be still. The long hour crept by at a glacial pace. There were tears in my eyes, and I still had a long, hard spanking coming!

[End of Part Two]

Copyright 2010 Carl Philip Michaels

[49O]

now get a fiery spanking, plenty of smacks to the bare bottom. good old-fashioned story. thanks.

[carl35]

"An Insider's View" -- Part Three

After what seemed like an eternity, Mom called the family to dinner, and that included me. "Don't forget your brush, Carl," she called. Blushing furiously, I took the spanking brush down from the wall and hung it around my neck by the yarn. Taking a deep breath, I turned and walked to the dining room table, only to feel like the ultimate loser at Musical Chairs.

Every chair was taken but one, The Punishment Chair. This had started life as a normal wooden chair, but had evolved into something of a monstrosity when my dad glued his entire collection of Michelob Ultra bottle caps to the seat. Reluctantly, I placed my bare bottom on this surface, and winced as I felt all those little metal biters sink into my fanny flesh.

"Hey Carl," my brother said, "wanna trade chairs? PSYCH!"

Carrie decided to get into the act. "Nice necklace, cousin. I'd love to borrow it sometime...NOT!" She and Gwen collapsed in giggles.

"Okay, everyone, let's eat." With that, my dad put a temporary end to the fun at my expense. I picked at my food, constantly trying in vain to find a comfortable position on the chair. When dinner was over, I stood up, grateful for the reprieve from those nasty little biters. Bobby and Reid quickly positioned themselves to get a good look at my butt.

"Whoa, check out all those red marks!" Bobby exclaimed.

"Man, getting spanked on that butt's gonna be rough!" Reid observed. They were playing their part well. I was about to ask my mom for permission to go the bathroom when she dropped a bomb.

"Girls, please take Carl to the bathroom."

WHAT?! Would the humiliations never end? This was just too much for a 15-year-old boy to handle, and I had to say something.

"Mom, PLEASE! I can go to the bathroom by my..."

"Quiet, young man," she said sharply. "Your sister and cousin are going to escort you to the bathroom and then back to your corner."

God, I hated when she referred to it as "my" corner! It made it sound like I was the only kid in the family who ever got punished! Carrie and Gwen grabbed one hand each and started walking me slowly toward the bathroom, while my blushing reached new heights.

"His bottom is certainly well marked already, wouldn't you say, Carrie?"

"Yes, dear cousin. I believe he's been properly tenderized for his spanking."

They kept this kind of banter up all the way to the bathroom and continued once I was inside. I found it impossible to go with them talking about me right outside the door, so I sat down, wincing audibly. More laughter from outside the door.

I opened the door to find my two escorts smiling broadly. "Did you wash and dry your hands properly, Carl?" Carrie asked superciliously. She was getting int o this just a little too much, and I found myself hoping she would be sentenced to a Type Two in the near future (yes, my aunt and uncle employed the same discipline program at their house).

Once I was back in "my" corner, Mom turned the vibration up to full power and dropped the control into her apron pocket. I stood and suffered while everyone watched my favorite TV show but me. Time crawled. Too soon, I heard the command,

"Carl Philip Michaels, front and center!"

I gulped and turned around and saw in the center of the family room the armless wooden chair -- a chair that was brought out for one purpose only. Everyone was seated and ready for the "show." Mom sat in the chair and I took my place next to her for a long lecture about the evils of smoking, the importance of showing a good example to the younger kids, etc. Conspicuous in its absence was any mention of the lying; this reminded me that I had to face this misery again tomorrow!

Finally, the lecture was over. "Alright, young man, over my knee."

Miserably, I placed myself in the classic spanking position. Mom employed a technique she'd learned from her own mother: she took her time arranging me so that my hands almost reached the floor and my bottom was high. Then she took my right hand in her left and pinned it behind my back. Finally, she rested her hand on her target. I drew in a breath sharply, painfully aware that all the preliminaries were over. Then she waited. And waited. And waited some more. Talk about building tension! It grew in the room like a living thing, until everyone's nerves were taut. Then I heard,

"Carl, why are you being spanked?"

"Um...be-because I smoked."

"That's right. What else?"

"Because I lied?"

"No, that's being dealt with tomorrow. Lift your head up and look around."

I complied, and felt fresh humiliation wash over me as I saw the eager faces of my siblings and cousins.

"Well?" she asked.

"Because I was a bad example to the other kids."

"That's right. Gwen, Reid, Carrie, Bobby, watch and learn."

She raised her hand up high.


[End of Part Three]

Copyright 2010 Carl Philip Michaels

[carl35]

SWAT!!

"OWW!"

How is it that that first spank is always a shock, no matter how many trips across the maternal lap you've clocked? Mom spanked hard, fast and furious right from the start, covering the entire spankable area from my bottom tops down to my upper thighs. I struggled to keep my composure as long as possible, but I knew it was a losing battle.

SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!

"OW.. OWEEE...PLEASE Mom, Ow!!"

When she switched her full attention to that oh-so-sensitive junction of bottom and thigh, I became very vocal indeed! I flopped around on her lap like a seal, trying in vain to avoid that punishing palm. She put her right leg over my legs and trapped me: I was getting my bare bottom spanked and there was no escape!

SWAT!! SWAT!! SWAT!! SWAT!!

"OWWW...PLEASE...."

The tears were flowing now. She switched back to the center of my bottom and delivered a series of awesome smacks with all her strength.

"AHH! OWWW!!! AHHHHHH!!!!!"

I twisted around in a constant attempt to avoid the pain. I felt as if I'd sat on a stove! Dimly, I heard a ripping sound; my pajama top had been torn due to my exertions. Suddenly, the spanking stopped. I lay there crying, grateful for the temporary reprieve. It was, however, only temporary. I heard Mom say,

"Hand me the brush."

"No, PLEASE, Mom!" I pleaded desperately. "My bottom's already on FIRE, you don't have to use the brush!!"

I pleaded my case as only a well-punished teenager can, and for a moment I thought I had won a stay. Instead, I heard,

"Carrie, Carl's pajama top is torn. Will you take it off for me?"

"NOO!!!" I cried. Normally, being bare-chested in front of my relatives wouldn't have mattered at all, but I was already SO over exposed AND Carrie was being given an active hand in my discipline again!

She leaped up and pulled the fabric over my head as I sobbed. "What do you want me to do with it, Aunt Kaye?"

"Wait 'til his spanking is over, then you can put it out on the mailbox with his underwear."

I groaned. This was already the most awful punishment of my life, and it seemed to just keep getting worse!

Quietly, my mother spoke directly into my ear. "See how easy it was to lose your pajama top? If I have to repeat myself again, I assure you that the bottoms are coming off as well."

I gasped, and did some others in the room. No one in our family had ever been stripped naked for a spanking! Still, Mom was in rare form tonight, and I had no desire to push my luck and make history. In what must have been a comically fluid motion, I pulled the yarn off my neck and handed over the instrument of my butt's destruction.

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

Oh my God, how could anything possibly hurt so much? I continued my imitation of a fish on dry land as the hard wooden brush made fiery contact with my poor backside. My cries of "OW!" and "NO!" quickly devolved into an unintelligible, continuous howl of pain. She covered my entire bottom with that nasty implement, and brought the spanking to a dramatic close with a series of hard swats to my sit-spots. I was sure I would never sit down again.

I lay there sobbing, unaware that my mom had stopped spanking me. She let me cry myself out, then she held the brush high and asked,

"Are you ever going to smoke again?"

"No! I swear..."

SMACK!! SMACK!!

"OWWW!!!!!"

(This was Mom's tried and true method of "sealing" promises from kids. Believe me, it worked!)

"Are you going to show a good example to the other kids?"

"YES! I swear, you don't have to..."

SMACK!!! SMACK!!!

"OWEEEEE!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

Mom stood me up, and I took in my witnesses through tear-filled eyes. The spanking pain had temporarily banished their presence from my consciousness, but now it came flooding back on me that my entire family had just seen me kick, scream and cry over my mom's knee like a four-year-old. Humiliation gave rise to new tears. My mom took me by the hand and led me back to the corner for the rest of the evening. Once I was in place, she turned the vibrator back on and joined the rest of the family to watch a movie we'd rented.

It took a long time for me to calm down, but after about 15 minutes, I had finally stopped crying. The location of The Punishment Corner kept me in everyone's line of sight, but they became engrossed in the movie and I didn't have to endure any more comments about the state of my bottom. I realized, though, that without my pajama top I was essentially naked. My ravaged rear was in plain view, my chest was bare, and the vibrating butt plug kept me in a constant state of erection. After almost two hours in the corner, my mother turned off the vibrator, came over and patted my sensitive bottom. "OK, you've paid for the smoking. We'll deal with the lying tomorrow."

Tomorrow was Saturday, and I knew it would be a long, long day. I'd be plugged all day, and although there wasn't another punishment suppository in my future (thank God!), I knew I'd still be wearing the humiliating pajama bottoms. (Would I be given some kind of top to wear? Doubtful.) I'd serve an hour of corner time in the morning, one after lunch, and one in the evening before and after my second spanking. Four hours of corner time in one day! The thought of sitting on my incredibly sore bottom on that horrible Punishment Chair at every meal brought tears to my eyes.

"Time for bed, Carl," my mother said. With a gentle swat to my fanny that made me wince, she sent me through the sea of onlookers upstairs to my room. Actually, realizing how much I'd suffered tonight had brought out the kids' natural compassion, and they were no longer teasing me as I made my way painfully up the stairs.

I reached the blessed privacy of my bedroom at last! Turning around, I looked at my rear end in the mirror, fully expecting to see signs of major trauma. Instead, there was just a uniform hot pink color suffusing my bottom cheeks and upper thighs. I saw the top of the plug sticking out, and blushed anew as I realized how ridiculous I must have looked in the corner. I knew, though, that after a few days the pain in my butt would just be a memory and a reminder that rules were meant to be followed for my own protection. In spite of everything I'd suffered, and would suffer tomorrow, I felt a kind of peace come over me. Exhausted, I did a belly flop on my bed and was asleep within minutes.

[End]

Copyright 2010 Carl Philip Michaels

[49O]

oh is that boy tender. ow.

[carl35]

"PUNISHED PEEPING TOM"
By Carl Philip Michaels

Bobby Sanders was buzzing with excitement. If his plan worked out, he was going to see Beckie Chalmers naked!

At 15, Beckie had a year on him, and she was best friends with his sister Julia. Drop-dead gorgeous and well-developed for her age, she’d been the star of Bobby’s fantasies for over a year.

When Julia had told Mom that Beckie was coming over to swim, the thought of seeing his dream woman in a bikini had filled his head. He was possessed with an overwhelming urge to see what was under that swimsuit! A crazy plan hatched in his adolescent head.

He changed about a half hour before Beckie was due at the house, adding an athletic supporter under his outfit. He knew that without it, he'd be humiliated by an uncontrollable reaction when he saw her heading for the pool. Once dressed, he played it cool, pretending to be immersed in a video game in the family room. Julia was still in her room when the doorbell rang.

“Bobby, would you get that, please?” his mom called from the kitchen. Normally he would have groused about being interrupted, but not this time. “Sure, Mom,” he called back, leaping to his feet.

Bobby opened the door and was blown away. Beckie was a vision of loveliness from head to toe. Her long, brunette hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a sweet smile lit up her fair-skinned face with just the right number of freckles. Her ample chest pushed against a halter top that showed off her flat belly and silver navel ring. She wore short denim cut-offs and sandals that revealed her perfect toes and recent pedicure. “Hiya, kiddo,” she said, that sweet smile still on her face. “You gonna let me in some time today?”

Bobby felt his face heat up as he realized he was staring. He opened the door wider and stepped back. “Uh, yeah, come on in," he said awkwardly. "Julia’s upstairs. You want a drink or something?”

“Got ginger ale?”

“Sure, I’ll get it for you.” As he turned to go to the kitchen, Beckie kicked off her sandals and sat down on the couch.

“Galactic Warriors, huh?” Beckie nodded toward the TV screen.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty cool game. You play?”

“Naw, but my little brother loves it.”

[Damn!]

“Hey, girl!” Julia sang out as she came downstairs dressed like a mirror image of Beckie: Bobby wondered if they'd arranged it beforehand. Girls were nothing if not a mystery.

“Where’s mine, twerp?” Julia demanded in mock offense as Bobby handed Beckie a tall glass of ginger ale.

“Hey, make with the sibling pride, chica,” Beckie said as she took the soda. “Your little brother was being the perfect gentleman.” Bobby blushed. He didn’t want her to see him as a “little” anything!

“So, you ready to do the pool thing?” Julia asked.

“Absolutely. You coming, Bobby?

“Naw, I’ve got stuff to do,” he replied. Actually, he was kind of shy about his scrawny chest, and he didn’t want to give Beckie one more reason to see him as a little boy.

While the girls went upstairs to change, he sat on the couch and started playing his video game again. Then he thought better of it, switched it off and pretended to read his dad’s "Scientific American" magazine instead. When the girls came downstairs, he didn’t notice that they were identically attired again, because Becky’s beauty completely consumed his vision. She was wearing a sheer cover-up over a very small blue bikini. If he was blown away before, he was knocked out cold now. He could see in greater detail the magnificent perfection that was Beckie’s body. He drank in the sight of her beautiful hair, ideal breasts, and perfect waist. Moving down those smooth, bare legs, his eyes fixed on the leather anklet on one foot and the silver toe ring on the other. He was undone.

The girls were talking rapidly and giggling about God-knows-what as they made their way to the pool. Once they’d been out there a few minutes, Bobby made his way furtively up to his room where he had a bird’s-eye view of the pool. He felt a thrill go through his whole body as he gazed at Beckie lying on her back on a chaise lounge, soaking up the sun.What a woman! Her belly ring glittered in the sunlight. A few minutes later, she turned over, and he was treated to the sight of what had to be the most luscious female bottom on the planet. She drove him to distraction when she undid her bikini top to sunbathe more evenly. He undressed her with his eyes, but it just wasn’t enough; he had to see it all! He decided it was time to put his plan into action.

“Bobby, where are you?” his mom called from downstairs.

His heart leaped in his chest. “Upstairs, Mom,” he answered, after moving quickly away from the window.

“Lunch is in a half hour.”

“Okay.”

A half hour. That meant the girls would be changing in about 15 minutes. He forced himself to wait, glancing several times at his watch. After exactly eight minutes, he slipped silently into Julia’s room and entered the closet, pulling the door shut behind him. He could see into the room well enough through the wooden slats. He waited for what seemed an eternity in the dark. Finally, he heard the girls coming up the stairs, and his heart started pounding with excitement. No turning back now: he was about to get a close-up of something any male would crawl through the desert to see!

They entered the room chatting. He watched feverishly as they took off their cover-ups, and his hand moved on auto-pilot to between his legs. Then came the moment he’d been waiting for: Beckie reached behind her back and undid her bikini clasp, and her perfect breasts spilled out in all their glory! The excitement was overwhelming; Bobby drew in an audible breath and his feverishly working right hand banged into the mini-hamper in the closet. The girls froze. “What was that?” Beckie asked, looking anxiously toward the closet and covering herself with her hands. “I think I know,” said Julia, herself topless yet unconcerned. She strode toward the closet door.

NO!! Bobby’s heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it would leave his chest, and his face and neck flushed hot-red. This wasn't going according to plan!

Julia flung open the door, and Beckie shrieked, grabbing a towel to cover herself. “It’s your ‘perfect little gentleman,’” Julia said derisively, as Bobby tried to shrink into nothing. At first Beckie was too shocked to speak, and then her face became a mask of humiliated rage. “You little PERVERT!” she shouted. "I though we were FRIENDS!” Sobbing, she ran out of the room, the towel wrapped around her top.

“Oh, you are SO busted, little brother,” Juliet hissed. In a panic, Bobby tried to push past his sister and out the door.

“Nuh-uh! You’re staying right where you are. Mom is gonna beat you butt ‘til you can’t sit down, and I’m gonna enjoy listening to you howl,” She said angrily. “Mom! Come upstairs, quick!”

Bobby knew she was right. He was in for a long, bare bottom spanking for sure.

“What is it, honey?” Mrs. Sanders called back in alarm.

“It’s Bobby! He was spying on us changing, and he saw Beckie…”

She stopped herself because she didn’t want to humiliate her friend further. She must still be in the house somewhere, her clothes were here on the bed.

Mrs. Sanders quickly climbed the stairs, while Bobby whimpered in fear. When she reached the door, he heard,

“Oh my God! Cover yourself, Julia!”

“Why?” she demanded, hot tears in her eyes. “The little perv’s already gotten an eyeful.” She lowered her voice. “He got a good look at Beckie, too.”

“Robert Andrew Sanders, you get out here this instant!” There was steel in his mother’s voice and eyes, and he was truly afraid. He crept out with a hung-dog look on his face, obviously guilty. Mrs. Sanders strode over to him and grabbed him by the ear, saying nothing as she dragged him downstairs. He let out little cries of “Ow!” And “No!” as she frog-marched him to the spot in the family room that had long been the household’s “punishment corner.”

“Nose in that corner, little boy, and don’t you move ‘til I’m calm enough to deal with you!” She said through gritted teeth. She couldn’t believe her son would humiliate his sister and Beckie like this. She was about to leave him when she had a better idea. She quickly spun him around and unfastened his shorts. “No, Mom!” he cried in alarm. She gave him two hard swats on the butt, eliciting a yelp. “Quiet,” she said sharply. “You embarrassed the girls, now it’s your turn to be embarrassed.” She yanked his shorts down to his ankles, leaving him in just his underwear and t shirt. “Hands up!” she commanded. Afraid to disobey, he lifted his hands and his mother pulled his shirt off. “Now turn around!” Two more painful swats landed on his bottom, this time without the protection of his shorts. “Hands on your head, and don’t move a muscle!” Whimpering, he complied, wondering where Beckie was, and whether she would see him like this. Of course, now she'd probably never even speak to him again.

Barely able to contain her anger, Mrs. Sanders said, “In a half hour you’re getting the spanking of your life, young man!” She punctuated her sentence with another mighty wallop on his already-sore butt. With tear-filled eyes and a stinging backside, he settled in for a long corner time, knowing his mom would deliver on her promise. Besides the stinging pain in his immediate future, he had three great concerns: 1) Spankings in this household were always given on the bare bottom; 2) The family room curtains were open, and; 3) Beckie might still be in the house. He stared at the wall in misery.

[End of Part One]
Copyright 2010 Carl Philip Michaels