Table of Contents
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My Spanking Diary
Arlene Gorley
This page copyright © 2007 Olympia Press.
http://www.olympiapress.com
CHAPTER ONE
June 1, 1969:
Dear Diary — I guess that's as good a way as any to begin. Today is my seventeenth birthday, and Mom gave me this five-year diary as one of my presents. She told me she wanted me to write down not only all my thoughts and hopes and the things that happen to me, but also my demerits and my spankings.
I feel awfully ashamed, because here I am almost old enough to vote, and yet I still get spanked like a naughty child. But this year is going to be the worst, I can tell already in advance. Mom wouldn't have given me this special present, as she called it, if she hadn't meant to get more serious about paddling my bottom when I'm naughty.
I guess I'd better start from the beginning because this is going to be a sort of autobiography, in a way. First of all, I'm about medium height, with curly black hair I like to wear in a short bob. I've got big dark-blue eyes and a small mouth which Mom says shows that I'm awfully selfish — and I guess maybe I am at times. My skin is sort of warm olive, though I've got lots of freckles on my cheeks and nose, and my nose is small and straight.
There are times when I wish the rest of me — especially the part Mom seems to like to spank so much — was just as small, believe me, Dear Diary! I weigh about 110, and most of it seems to be in my thighs and bottom, though of course I have sort of big round breasts too. That's what bugs me, because I look so grownup and yet I'm still treated like a kid.
We live in Fresno, where I was born in a house on North Broadway. Dad (his name was David Gorley) came out here about nineteen years ago from Chicago, where he had been an advertising man, to do some promotion work for the raisin growers. I guess he liked it out here well enough to stay and to marry Mom, who was the daughter of a big hardware store owner. Mom was eighteen when she married, and Dad was twenty-six. I was born about eighteen months after they got married, and then two years later they had my sister Sandra. Sandra is fifteen, with fiery red hair in a thick poneytail, and she has lots more freckles than I and a much fairer skin. She also is much slimmer than I am, and an inch taller, but the funny thing is that her bottom is almost as big as mine, and she gets spanked on it too. She doesn't like it any more than I do, and sometimes I think she resents being punished that way even more than I do because she has ideas about being grownup already. But then, the saying is that redheads always have a temper, and I guess Sandra is no exception to that rule.
Anyway, Dad died about three years ago from a heart attack, but he left us pretty well off, including the house on North Broadway and some insurance and money in the bank. Only right now, Mom is worrying me a little by going around with a fellow that neither Sandra nor I very much like. His name is Elmer Douglas. He looks like a schoolteacher, and he never combs his hair, and Sandra and I both think he's an awful square.
Mr. Douglas is a vice-president in a savings and loan company down on Merced Street, and he's about forty-two. He always has some wisecrack to make about juvenile delinquency, especially when he's over at our house talking to Mom and we happen to be in the vicinity. I get the feeling that he has it in for us, and I also have an awful feeling that if he does marry Mom, our spankings are going to be a lot more frequent. I hope I'm wrong, but then you never know.
As far as spanking is concerned, Dad never did do much of it. I mean, if we were naughty when we were real little kids, he'd just tell us to quiet down and maybe give us a smack on the rear end with his hand and warn us that there was more where that came from if we didn't shape up. And we got along perfectly fine. But ever since he died, I guess maybe Mom figured that we were in our teens and at the difficult stage, as she puts it, and that we needed more regular discipline. That's the only way I have of explaining all the spankings I've had the last couple of years. Sandra has got almost as many, but the trouble is that because I'm two years older, Mom says I ought to teach my younger sister and set a good example for her. So whenever the two of us get into trouble, it's usually yours truly who winds up on the receiving end.
Mom has been seeing this Elmer Douglas for about two months now, and I'm convinced that all this demerit business was his idea. I mean, after Dad died, sure, we got spanked, Sandra and I, but nothing like the way it's been the last couple of months.
I'll give you an example. About a year ago, just a week after my sixteenth birthday, I was late from school because Tommy Turnbull was carrying my books and sort of making up to me. And wouldn't you know it, but snoopy old Mrs. Spears who lives down the street a block or two, happened to see us standing on the corner and talking, so what does she do but call Mom that I'm practically smooching with him in front of God and everybody.
So when I got home, Mom took me by the earlobe and marched me into her bedroom, scolding me all the time and saying that I was old enough to know not to behave improperly — she always uses a big vocabulary when she's mad at me — and that I was going to get a good sound spanking. Well, she sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled me over her lap so that I stretched out along the bed, and then she pulled up my skirt and my petticoat and let me have about twenty good spanks with the flat of her hand over my panties. Of course it hurt, but then it was all over, and then she started giving me a sermon on how I had to be especially good because I didn't have a father and because I had to set a good example for my sister too.
That was one thing. But starting about six weeks ago, Mom served notice on us that she didn't like our behavior one little bit and that she was going to take sterner measures, as she put it. So that time, when I went out to a movie on Saturday afternoon with Betsy Rourke, my best girlfriend, and I didn't tell Mom where I was going, when I got back, she marched me off to her bedroom again and this time she made me lift up my own petticoat and skirt and then come over to her as she sat down in a straight-backed chair. She pulled my little panties down to my knees, and gave me a long lecture and then she told me to get over her lap in a hurry. This time, she reached for the hairbrush, and I started begging off right away. It didn't do any good at all. She gave me thirty spanks, fifteen to each cheek, and I was bawling like a baby and kicking my legs like mad long before she finished.
That was the first time I ever got it on the bare, and I could just as well have skipped it for the rest of my life, but I can see right now it was only the start of what is going to be a very unhappy adolescence for me, especially if Mom goes on with her idea of making Mr. Douglas our stepfather.
June 5, 1969:
Last night Mom told Sandra and me to come into the living room right after we had finished doing the supper dishes. We sat on the couch side by side, and she sat in the armchair across the way and gave us the new setup. Sandra and I looked at each other and we gulped and we both were awfully unhappy. This was Mom's demerit system we were being told about, and already my poor bottom started squirming in advance. She said that she had decided that even though we were fairly grownup, we seemed to need discipline more than ever, and that the only way to do it was to keep us on a regular daily basis of merits and demerits. Every Saturday would be settling accounts day, she told us. She was giving Sandra a little memo book in which Sandra would have to write down whenever she got a demerit. Mine was my diary, of course. Then on Saturday noon, we would hand our books to her and she would check them to see what we had coming that night.
She must have sat up all night dreaming up the list, because we both had to write down on a sheet of paper what all the demerits were and how many there were for what we did or didn't do. If our room was untidy, we had to write down two demerits. If we sassed her or were impertinent,
that was five demerits. If we broke the curfew, like coming back too late from a show or school or something like that without reasonable explanation, that was four demerits. If she told us to run an errand or wash the dishes or do something around the house and we forgot or something, that was one demerit. If we used naughty language, that was two demerits. And right then and there, while we were writing all this down, she gave my sister two demerits for saying, just loud enough for her to hear, “Oh, shit anyhos!” I was about to giggle, but the look in Mom's eyes sort of told me that if I did, I might find myself writing down some demerits after my name.
But the worst thing it was that Mom had figured out a whole system of so many spanks for so many demerits, and even in that system there were all sorts of very painful situations. I mean, a certain number of demerits meant a hand spanking over the panties, and more demerits meant a hand spanking on the bare. But after that, everything was on the bare, and it was the hairbrush and even the strap and the ruler. Mom had never used a ruler or a strap on us before, so I suspected that those ideas had come from Mr. Douglas, and I wasn't about to thank him for his suggestions, you can depend on that!
After Mom had got through reading off the list and we had written it down just like kids in a classroom getting instructions from the teacher, she looked at us and said, “Now I mean business, you two. And there won't be any begging off. That's why I'm putting in this demerit system. It will be down in black and white, and once you girls have been naughty and got your demerits, then you know exactly what you can look forward to. Maybe this way I can get some discipline going in this house.”
“But, Mom,” Sandra protested, with a sulky pout on her pretty face, “it's not fair. All of a sudden, you're going to spank us harder than you ever did, and we're nearly both of us too old for that anyway.”
“So, young lady, you think you're too old for spanking, do you?” Mom said huffily. “Would you like to have the hairbrush right now, maybe?”
“Oh gosh no!” my kid sister hurried to waive the privilege of being first under the new program. “But I still think it's awful. And I think something else, too, if you want to know something, Mom.”
“Go ahead, young lady, speak your mind.” Mom had a sort of dangerous glint in her gray-green eyes. Sandra had inherited the same color of eyes from Mom, only hers seemed to be bigger. “I'm sure I don't want either of you two girls to think I'm playing favorites or being unfair.”
“But you are!” Sandra broke out. “Until that nasty old Mr. Douglas came along, you spanked us a couple of times and it wasn't so bad. But now it's something like torture. Straps and rulers and hairbrushes — gee, Mom, this is the twentieth century, not back in the days when you whipped kids even in school.”
“You seem to be quite well informed, young lady,” Mom said in a sort of deceptively gentle tone of voice, sort of like the prelude to a storm, because I could see that her lips were tightening. “One of these days, you're going to turn out to be a jailhouse lawyer. And right now, you can just write down in your little book, Sandra, that you've got two demerits coming.”
“For what?” my red-haired sister wanted to know, and she was really all upset.
“For making that remark about Mr. Douglas, that's what for,” Mom said.
“That's not fair!” Sandra jumped up from the couch and stood there facing Mom, and her face was red and there were tears in her eyes. “I hate him! I think it's mean and cruel to tell us all about these demerits and things, when you never had to do it before. And it's all because he came along. Maybe he cast a spell over you or something.”
“And that, young lady, will be quite enough of that!” Mom was riled for fair now. She got up from her armchair and stared right back at Sandra. “You can put yourself down for two more. Just one more demerit, and you've got a spanking coming Saturday, young lady, don't forget it.”
“Doggone it anyhow.” My kid sister didn't know when she was well off. “I'll tell Mr. Douglas to his face what I think of him, because I don't like him and I won't ever like him.”
“And that makes six. Would you like to try for eight?” Mom sarcastically asked.
I sent a frantic look at Sandra telling her to shut up. She had just got herself six demerits which according to the new schedule meant a sound spanking on the bare butt by hand. Five demerits was a minimum, and that meant a spanking over the panties.
But I guess redheads always have to have the last word, because Sandra wasn't taking this quietly at all. “I don't care, I'm going to run away from home, you wait and see!” she stormed. “And if you marry that awful man, I'll really run away and fast.”
“Are you quite finished? I'm giving you eight demerits here and now, and you know what that means,” Mom said and her lips were very thin by this time.
Sandra suddenly started to cry, put her hands to her face, and ran out of the room upstairs to her own room. I felt sorry for her, but I was really scared. It was a different Mom I was seeing now. She had never before been so harsh and cruel about spankings. I mean, when you had one coming you knew it, and you took it and that was that. But all this talk in advance about demerits and this and that punishment depending on how many you got — that was a new side of Mom I was really scared about.
And the eight demerits meant first a spanking over the panties with the hand, and then at least twenty spanks with the hairbrush on the bare heinie. And sure enough, on Saturday, when both of us had to turn in our record books to Mom, Sandra had her eight and I had had one because I had forgotten to pick up a loaf of bread the day before along with some other things Mom had wanted from the grocery store.
First of all, I had to stand there and watch while poor Sandra got her spanking. It took place in Mom's room, and Sandra had to pull up her petticoat and skirt and then go over Mom's lap for the handspanking a good forty swats which left her crying and kicking like anything. Then she got a two-minute rest, and then had to slip her panties down, take them completely off, and lie down on the bed with the pillow under her tummy while Mom stood at the edge and, her left palm pressed down on Sandra's back, gave her twenty good hard spanks with the flat back of the hairbrush. I had to come up and help hold Sandra's hands after about the first seven swats, because she started kicking and putting her hands back to cover up her red bottom. And how she cried!
But that was just the beginning, Dear Diary.
CHAPTER TWO
July 3, 1969:
This has been just about the worst month of my life, Dear Diary. I guess it's official now, Mom is going to marry that awful Mr. Douglas. She made the announcement last Sunday at dinner, and about a hour later Mr. Douglas himself came over. It was all Sandra and I could do to be civil to him, because he had a couple of nasty little wisecracks to hit us with just about as soon as he started getting inside the house. The first thing he did right off was to ask Mom if we had been good girls the past few weeks, and she had to go and tell him that the new demerit system was working just fine and that each of us had had a spanking.
I wanted to sink through the floor and I was blushing like the red, red, rose, you can bet on that. Yes, I got mine last Saturday, just the day before Mom made her announcement about our new stepfather.
I had got myself all of seven demerits, and five of them came from sassing back. The other two was because my room was untidy, so that made seven. So on Saturday I had to bring in this diary, and show the bottom of the page where I kept my demerits. I will say that Mom didn't try to read my personal thoughts, or I could have gotten more demerits for the things I had said about Mr. Douglas. I guess she knew how I felt, though. So anyway, she asked me if I had anything to say, I just shook my head and asked her please to get it over with. Seven demerits got me a handspanking over my panties and then ten smacks on my bare seat with the hairbrush. It was bad enough, but Mom made it worse, and once again I saw the fine Italian hand of Mr. Douglas. After I had pulled up my skirt and slip and gone over her lap while she sat in the straight-backed chair, she spanked my b
ottom good and hard till I was sniffling and squirming, and there were tears running down my face. But then I had to get up, go over to the dresser, bring her back the hairbrush, and then of all things she had me drape myself over the edge of the bed after I first had pulled my panties down to my knees, and stretched my arms out as far as I could. My toes were shoved down on the floor and all my muscles were tense, and I could feel how warm my poor bottom was from the spanking. She made me count out the spanks with the hairbrush. They hurt like the dickens, and it was all I could do to keep from plunging my hands back to cover up my bottom after about five of them. She told us at the very start of this so-called program that anytime we tried to protect ourselves from the spanking we had been sentenced to, we would get extras. I didn't want any, thank you. And then after the ten had been doled out, and I was lying there crying and crossing and uncrossing my ankles, Mom said to me, “I'm not satisfied with you yet, young lady, and you are going to have to shape up pretty well in the next few months. It's quite possible that I won't be the only one to administer the spankings if certain things happen.”
Well, I could guess what she meant by that, but the next day she made it official by announcing her engagement to Mr. Douglas. And that could only mean one thing: I would get my spankings thereafter from Mr. Douglas himself.
It wasn't so much that I didn't like the idea of Mom's getting married again. Far from it. She was always a good-looking woman, and she certainly didn't look her thirty-seven years at all. But I certainly would have picked somebody else instead of that nasty man who had got her mind all filled with the notion that Sandra and I had to be spanked like kids whenever we did anything wrong. And the thought came to me that maybe he got his kicks that way. That was just awful!
My Spanking Diary Page 1
