So that night, when I was in my pajamas and ready for bed, I sneaked down to Sandra's room down the hall, and I had a little council of war with her. She agreed with me that this was all Mr. Douglas' fault, and of course we both said that we would rather run away from home or die or something than ever let him spank us. That was all very brave talk, but it didn't work out that way, alas.
Because yesterday was Saturday, and poor Sandra was due for a spanking. She had got herself all of nine demerits during the week, with the usual five for sassing back two for naughty language, as Mom called it, and two for having her room untidy. Nine demerits meant a spanking over her panties, and then thirty on the bare with the hairbrush. And then yesterday afternoon about two o'clock, Mr. Douglas came over because he was going to take Mom out to dinner and a show. We girls were to go along, but we certainly didn't feel like doing it. Especially after what happened.
Mom met him at the door and gave him a big hug and a kiss right in front of us, and we exchanged a very gloomy look. We certainly were outvoted, and we didn't even have an uncle or an aunt who could stand up for us now. Mom had a sister, all right, but she lived in Boston. Besides, they had had some misunderstanding about ten years, they almost never exchanged letters.
Anyway, what did Mom go and do but pipe right up and say that before we could go out to dinner and the show, there was a little disciplinary matter that had to be attended to. Sandra started getting red as a beet and then she finally broke out with, “Oh, no, Mom, that's not fair! Can't you please put it off until tomorrow, anyway if, if you have to?”
Mom turned around to look at her and didn't say a word for a minute. Then she said to Mr. Douglas, “This naughty girl has had nine demerits, and I think she ought to be spanked right now.”
“I agree with you, my dear,” he said as he took off his glasses and cleaned them with his handkerchief and then put them back on and stared at poor Sandra. “Do you wish me to help you, Myrna?” That was my mother's name of course. In fact, the reason I keep calling myself Arlene Gorley is that even though Mom is married to Mr. Douglas, I just don't want to use his name and feel I belong to him in any way. I feel already like a girlslave with all these spankings and things that are happening, so I want to keep Dad's name as long as I can.
“I agree with you, Elmer,” Mom said. “Sandra march yourself right up to my bedroom. Arlene, you might as well come along and watch, it will be a good lesson for you. Don't forget, now that you are seventeen, I expect more of you, and so does Mr. Douglas.”
“Oh no! I won't I won't! He's not going to watch me get spanked, Mom!” Sandra started to cry, and then she stamped her foot.
Mr. Douglas looked at Mom again and shook his head. “Decidedly, Myrna, your younger daughter has some very bad traits. I think it is a good thing you and I had that talk some weeks ago and decided to put the girls under stricter surveillance.”
Then he turned to Sandra and said in a very sharp voice, “Now then, my girl, either you are going to submit quietly and take your punishment which you deserve, or I myself will take over, and I can promise you a much more severe chastisement. You can have your choice.”
Sandra turned to me and there were tears running down her cheeks and she twisted her hands and groaned, “Oh, Arlene, I don't want him to watch me getting punished, I don't, I don't!”
“You should have thought of that before you got all those demerits, my girl,” he said in the most patronizing way. I felt like taking off his glasses and breaking them, but of course that would have cost me the worst licking of my life.
“I'm going to run away, you'll see,” Sandra said.
With that, he walked over to her, took her by the elbow and said, “Now you just come along upstairs my girl, and don't make it any worse than you already have, or you're going to be very sorry. Come along Myrna, and you too, Arlene.”
I watched him make her go up the stairs, and I felt terribly sorry for her. But some of that was for myself too, because I had an awful feeling that before I filled up all the pages in this diary, I was going to have a few painful scenes all my own — and oh how right I was!
So we all went into Mom's bedroom. Sandra was crying, and then she began to beg Mom to spank her in private and not let him watch. Of course Mom wouldn't, and she warned Sandra any more of this nonsense would mean extra spanks. She sat down on the straight-backed chair, and Mr. Douglas sat down on the edge of the bed and watched, while I stood at the head of the bed feeling utterly miserable.
Sandra was wearing white playshorts and a pullover polo shirt, and sandals. She looked awfully sexy, because the shorts shaped out the saucy oval cheeks of her bottom, and her creamyskinned legs sleek and bare. Mr. Douglas sat and watched with a sort of scowl on his face, and he had his legs crossed and both hands were grasping his right knee. First Mom scolded Sandra and then told her what she was to get because of all her demerits, and then ordered her to get over her lap. My kid sister slowly draped herself over Mom's lap, and hid her face in her hands and clenched her legs together as tightly as she could. Mom tucked her in with her left arm, ran her right hand over Sandra's bottom, and then started the spanking with a good hard slap against the very center of her right heinie cheek. I heard Sandra gasp and saw her hips wriggle a little, and then the second spank came down on the other cheek, and Sandra uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way, and let out an even louder gasp.
Mr. Douglas leaned forward, and I could see that he was getting a big bang out of watching poor Sandra get it. I guess maybe the shame of having him there was what made Sandra less stoic than she usually is when she gets a spanking. She started to blubber after about fifteen swats, and by the time Mom had given her forty, twenty to each cheek with the hand, she was begging off and promising to be an awfully good girl if Mom would only stop and let her off anymore.
Mom let her lie and cry it out over her lap for about two minutes, and then she ordered, “Now you just get up and go bring me the hairbrush, young lady.”
“Please, M — M — Mom, not on the b — b — bare before h — him, please, you can give me double, but please not on the b — bare!” my kid sister sobbed.
Mom looked over at Mr. Douglas, but he shook his head. “No, Myrna,” he said coldly. “This naughty girl has to learn that discipline is meant to be strict so she won't think it a laughing matter. Now you do what your mother tells you to, my girl, unless you want me to take over!”
“Oh no, oh no, I'd just die of shame!” Sandra wailed as she got up from Mom's lap and hurried over to the dresser, and then brought back the hairbrush and stood there crying.
“Now you can just take your panties completely off, young lady, and get back over my lap,” Mom said.
“Pl—please, oh don't make me do it Mom, not in front of him!” she sobbed.
“Sandra! Do you hear me?” Mom said in an angry voice.
There wasn't any help for it, so my poor kid sister began to obey. She turned herself so that Mr. Douglas wouldn't see her pussy, as she started taking off her white shorts. She pulled them down to her knees, and then let them fall to the floor, stepped out of them, and promptly flung herself right down over Mom's lap as if she was eager to get it over with. Just the same, I could see the dark red thatch of pussyhair at the tops of her long creamy thighs. But my goodness, how red her poor bottom already was! And she still had thirty spanks from the hairbrush to get before the punishment was over and all the demerits wiped out.
Sandra grabbed the bottom rung of the chair to hold on tight and she thrust her sandalled feet down hard on the other side, so that all her muscles stood out. Her big red ovalcheeked bottom stood out there in relief against the white paleness of her thighs and back. I took a quick glance at Mr. Douglas, and he was cleaning his glasses again and sitting even more on the edge of his chair than before. He liked it, he actually enjoyed watching poor Sandra have her bare bottom tanned. I made a vow that he wasn't ever going to get to see me that way when I got punished, but I had a sinking feel
ing in the pit of my stomach that it wasn't going to work out that way.
Mom got a good tight grip of her left arm around Sandra's waist, then lifted up the hairbrush and glanced over at Mr. Douglas. He nodded. He was just the most heartless man I had ever known!
Whack! Down it came, with a noisy crack as it flattened against the base of my kid sister's right heinie cheek. Sandra let out a squeal and kicked up one bare leg, and then turned her face back and blubbered, “Oh don't, not so hard, oh please, I can't stand so many, Mom!”
“You are supposed to count, young lady. Now you had better do it, because it won't be over until you count out the thirty you have coming,” Mom told her. And hardly had she finished saying that, when Smackk, the brush came down even harder, on the top of Sandra's left hip.
“Owww! boohoo, oh please, not so hard, two!” Sandra yelled.
“No, young lady, that was only one because you didn't count the first one. Now you better get with it, or you will be over my lap quite some time,” was Mom's answer.
“One, then, but oh please, don't spank so hard, please don't!” Sandra groaned.
But only the hairbrush answered her. A good hard spank right down on the crease between the cheeks, pinching them together, and Sandra let go of the bottom rung of the chair and rushed her hands back to rub her bottom and to try to cover up as she yelled out, “Twoooooo!! Oh it hurts, it hurts so, oh please, I'll be good, please not so many!”
“Take your hands away at once, young lady,” Mom ordered. “Just for that, we're going to start all over again now.”
Then she brought the hairbrush down again on the outer edge of my sister's right bottomcheek. Sandra yelled out: “One! Oh it's awful, it hurts so! Please, not so hard!”
She kept up the count through about six, and then she couldn't stand it anymore and rushed her hands back to cover up again. Mr. Douglas got up and said in a dry voice, “It is very evident, Myrna, that this naughty girl isn't used to real discipline. But from now on things are going to be very different. Arlene, you go kneel down and hold your sister's hands so she won't cover up anymore. And you, Sandra, are going to start all over again with the hairbrush. The next spank will be the first, do you understand?”
“I hate you, I hate you, I wish I were dead, I want to run away, you're awful and mean and cruel!” my kid sister wailed as I hurried over there and knelt down and took hold of her wrists.
“She really ought to have an extra for being so rude, Elmer dear,” was Mom's heartless comment.
“I'm glad you're beginning to appreciate the necessity for stern measures, Myrna dear,” was his answer. He had lit a cigarette and was watching from his post on the edge of the bed. His legs were crossed, but his eyes were very bright behind the glasses. Yes, there was no doubt about it, he was getting a real kick out of watching poor Sandra's bare heinie get spanked. And how red it was already! And to think the poor kid had to get thirty more of those awful whacks from the hairbrush!
“Are you ready for your spanking now you naughty girl?” Mom asked, as she gave Sandra's bare heinie a little pat with the brush.
“Yes, yes, for gosh sakes, Mom, please get it over with fast, I can't stand it, it burns, it hurts!” poor Sandra sobbed.
And then the hairbrush started to come down again in crisp rhythm. First the right cheek, then the left, and each time it fell, Sandra would give a squeal and kick one or both legs up in the air, wriggle all she could to get off Mom's lap, and jerk at her wrists which I kept hold of. The pain was so much that she forgot to count about five or six of them, and all of them were extras. When it was all over and she had yelled out: “Thirty, oh it's over, oh I'm dying, oh you hurt me awfully bad, Mom, it's awful!”, her bottom looked like a blazing tomato against the whiteness of her back and legs. And her hips were moving every which way and in all her kicking I knew she had shown Mr. Douglas her pussy.
I could tell from the frantic way she kept jerking at my wrists that she was really suffering. When I finally let go and stood up, Mr. Douglas gave me a sort of sneering little smile, as much as to say that if I didn't behave myself, he would be watching my big bottom get the hairbrush too.
CHAPTER THREE
Sandra had to lie down on her tummy in her room for a couple of hours before it was time to go to dinner and the show, and she certainly didn't feel much like going. We went to a nice restaurant, the Hacienda, on the highway. Mr. Douglas had a new Thunderbird, and he drove us there. Sandra kept squirming on the seat as she did on the chair at the restaurant till Mom whispered to her to behave or she would get another dose when she got back home. My sister's eyes were swollen from crying, and she looked very unhappy. I certainly couldn't blame her for that. I felt the same way myself.
Somehow we got through the dinner and the show, and then we got back home about midnight. Mr. Douglas then kissed Mom goodnight and said that he would see her early next week to set the plans for the wedding. My heart just about sank to my boots when I heard that. It meant that from now on we would have two against us instead of just one.
As soon as I had heard Mom go into her bedroom, I waited a few minutes and then I went down the hall to Sandra's room.
I gave a light knock on the door, then went in and closed the door. Sandra was in the bathroom and she was bare-naked. She was half-turned and looking at herself in the cabinet mirror. Her heinie was still awfully red and it looked terribly sore. She had a jar of cold cream out on the wash basin, and I said, “Let me do it for you, honey. You stretch out on the bed and I'll rub it in. Oh gosh, it looks just awful. It must have hurt something terrible.”
“You know it did,” she accused. Then she put one hand behind her and rubbed and made a face. “I thought I was going to die with all those extras. And the worst of it was with that nasty, horrible Mr. Douglas watching and seeing me all bare. I bet he saw even my pussy!”
Up until then, I had never dreamed that Sandra used words like that. I knew them from my girlfriend Betsy Rourke, but Sandra hadn't really been around much with boys at school and I didn't know where she had picked that word up.
“You shouldn't use a word like that, or you'll get demerits,” I said.
“Oh sure,” she started sniffling again. “I suppose you're going to snitch on me.”
“You know better than that, Sandy. Of course I wouldn't do that. I'm on your side, remember? Now you just stretch out on the bed and let me rub some of that cold cream in.”
So she did, and I started working it in gently. She began to sigh and squirm a little, and after I had rubbed it all in, she sighed, “Oh gosh, that feels so good! I thought I was on fire, and I could hardly sit down all through the dinner and the show. Isn't there any way we can stop Mom from marrying that horrible man?”
“I'm afraid not, Sandy honey.”
“I was afraid of that,” Sandra groaned. “Go on rubbing, it feels so nice. Gosh, I wish I had a boyfriend right about now to make me feel better after this awful spanking.”
“Sandy! How can you think of things like that! If she does marry him, they are both going to watch us like hawks. They don't even want me to have a boyfriend and I'm two years older than you are, so you might just as well forget about it,” I told her.
And then she really threw me for a loop when she turned her face back with a saucy look through her tears and whispered, “You're a big stupe even if you are seventeen, Arlene. We don't have to have a boyfriend to have fun. My bottom is so hot, I'm hot in my pussy too. Why don't you do something about it, Arlene honey?”
And with this, she rolled over onto her bottom, and showed me everything she had. Those nice perky pearshaped titties of hers with soft narrow dark-coral aurolae and dainty little lovebuds, and her wide shallow bellybutton, and the thick red curls of her pussy.
I was just in my pajamas and slippers, and I blushed because she was looking at me. Then she whispered, “Take off your jammies, and love me up good, Arlene. Please, I want you to.”
“What are you talking about!” I gasped.
“You're my sister.”
“I know. That's what makes it so nice. Come on, take your jammies off. I'll show you,” she whispered.
I don't know what made me do it, Dear Diary, but in a minute I was naked and I was beside her on the bed. She rolled over onto her side, and she snuggled up against me. She put her arm around my shoulder and then she started to kiss me. “Feel me up and rub your pussy against mine, that'll make the pain in my bummy go away, it will,” she told me.
I felt sorry for her. And I guess that's why I let her show me how girls made out without boys. Before I knew it, we were kissing like anything, and I was stroking her heinie, and fondling one of her titties, and then we were rubbing pussies until suddenly I felt myself just about burst and almost faint.
And that's how both of us discovered one way of getting some pleasure out of the awful spankings Mr. Douglas was having Mom give us.
July 27, 1969:
Well, it happened, just as Sandy and I were scared it would. There wasn't any good trying to talk Mom out of thinking it over before she gave us a new father neither of us wanted. Both of us had already paid for “sassing” when it came to Elmer Douglas, and it was a losing fight, so we didn't try it again. Sure enough, she and Mr. Douglas were married on July 14th, and went to San Francisco for their honeymoon in the St. Francis Hotel for ten days. We were left behind, and Mom and our new stepfather both warned us to take good care of the house and not to let them hear any stories from the neighbors like that old Mrs. Spears, about any cutting up or having boys over or anything like that — or else!
Well, we didn't, needless to say. Even if we had wanted to, and I'll tell you here and now. Dear Diary, that I wouldn't have minded having Tommy Turnbull over to smooch around with. But just knowing that Mrs. Spears was across the way and was always peering out of her window over at our house decided me not to run the risk of a few minutes of fun in exchange for an awfully burning and sore behind. Because, just before Mom and Mr. Douglas left on their trip. Mom said to us. “Now you girls remember that from now on Mr. Douglas is your new father, and when it is necessary for you two to be spanked, he is going to take over some of the disciplinary duty. And I think you will find, if you are unfortunate enough to run afoul of our orders about your conduct, that he spanks a lot harder than I do.” And then, which made me just about feel sick, she turned to him with a sickly-sweet smile, hugged him and cooed, “Wouldn't you say that was true, Elmer darling?”
My Spanking Diary Page 2
