I got up, and I was shaking. My pussy felt moist, and it tickled until it was driving me crazy. I hurried up the stairs to Sandra's room, and I knocked at the door and I told her who I was. And when I got in, I took off all my clothes, first locking the door behind me, and then I got into bed with her. This was the first time I had really taken the initiative. It's funny, I didn't know anything about Lesbian love, except that one time when Sandra had shown me. But this time I seemed to do everything by instinct. I was sucking her nipples, my finger was poking in her pussy, finding her little clit and rubbing it, till her legs wrapped around me and she held on tight with her arms and we rolled over and over. And then I felt myself burst again, and we both did it at the same time, and we practically fell asleep in each others arms. It was a good thing for me that we really didn't, or we might have been discovered. About an hour later, I got up and went back to my room. I couldn't sleep most of the night, remembering what had happened and what I had seen. But I knew one thing. Mr. Douglas loved to spank, and he also loved to fuck after spanking. I just wondered if that idea would come to him about us.
CHAPTER FIVE
August 18, 1969:
This has really been a time for Sandy and me, Dear Diary! I'm just about ready to run away from home the way she is, you can depend on that. If Mom were ever to read every line in this diary to Mr. Douglas, we probably would be clapped into irons and given bread and water and a spanking every day. We hate him, we're scared of him, and worst of all, I'm beginning to think he's got some crazy ideas about having us — well, you might call it a harem. Betsy Rourke told me the other day how the Turkish Sultans used to have harems in the olden days, where they had lots of slavegirls who had to go to bed with them whether they wanted to or not, or else get tied up and spanked real hard. And then of course they had sex with the girls all they wanted, and the girls had to do just about anything, or else. Well, the way Mr. Douglas has been enjoying — there isn't any other word to describe it except enjoying — spanking Sandy and me, I've begun to think he's just a nasty dirty old man who just loves making girls feel ashamed and having to show everything they've got.
Since the last time I wrote in this book, Sandy and I have each had two spankings. And to make it worse, the first of those had us both getting it, so that each one of us had to watch the other and wait for her own turn, which I think is just awful. That one took place two weeks ago, while the other one happened just last night. Mr. Douglas told Mom that while he will go along with the Saturday afternoon settling of accounts, he still thinks that when one or the other of us is really naughty and has done something particularly bad, the punishment ought to be given on the spot — and that's not just a pun!
Poor Sandy got the worst shipping she'd ever had two weeks ago, but I had to wait for my turn after hers. You don't know what a terrible feeling it is to have to stand there and wait while you see your sister's white bottomturning redder and redder and hear her yelling and begging off, and all the time you know that pretty soon it's going to be your turn and that you're going to have to pull your panties down and get over Mr. Douglas' lap. And you know that you're going to tell yourself to be brave and to keep from moving, but when the hairbrush or the strap starts smacking down on your bare skin, you forget all that and pretty soon you're kicking and showing him everything you have.
Well, Sandy got five demerits on the Monday of that week for talking smart to Mr. Douglas — which she ought to have known better than to do, after all the trouble she had already got into. Then she got four more on Wednesday of that same week, because Mom had said she could go to a movie with Tess Fuller, a cute brown-haired girl whose big brother Dick is nineteen and who really sends me even more than Tommy Turn-bull, if you want to know something, Dear Diary. Tess is pretty well built for only fourteen, and she's already dating a fellow who's sixteen, a real swinger. Mom said that Sandy had to be back by ten, but she didn't get back until eleven-thirty, so that made nine demerits in all. Then, just to make things worse, she argued when Mom gave her the four demerits, and she said “Damn it anyway, can't a girl ever have any fun in this house?” and so she got two more, which made eleven.
So on Saturday when we had to turn our records over to Mom, poor Sandy had eleven, and I had eight, which meant a handspanking over my panties and then twenty on my bare butt with the darn old hairbrush. But poor Sandy's eleven meant that she first had to get a hand-spanking on the bare, and then twenty on the bare with the hairbrush and then ten with the strap on the bare too, and that was just awful.
Part of this new system that Mom had worked out with Mr. Douglas was that if you got five demerits, you got just ten spanks over your panties and a good sound warning about how much worse it would be if you didn't behave the next week. I got six that time two weeks ago, when poor Sandy had her awful thrashing from Mr. Douglas. Six meant that I got a hand-spanking half over my panties, and the other half on the bare. That was the worst part of it. If I had just got the five, I think I could have stood it, but when I had to have my panties taken down for the second part of my punishment, I knew that Mr. Douglas was looking at and feeling my bottom. I just wanted to die of shame.
First of all, Sandy and I both thought that Mom would spank us and that Mr. Douglas would just be there to help or to look on. It didn't work out that way at all. I guess he must have talked to Mom, because on that Saturday afternoon when we were both called to Mom's bedroom, and as we were on our way there, Mom came out and said, “This time, girls, your father is going to do the spanking. He and I have decided that it's the best way to keep up discipline so that neither of you will forget that you're expected to behave like young ladies from now on because of your age.”
Sandy stopped right then and there, and she stamped her foot and said, “That's not fair! I don't want him to watch me, I don't want him to see me bare either! It's not right, Mom!”
“If you are worried about your modesty, young lady,” Mr. Douglas drily put in, “you have only to behave yourself so that you don't get demerits and then you won't have to worry about a spanking. Now get along with you right away! And don't argue, or it will be a good deal worse.”
“It couldn't be much worse with the eleven demerits I've got,” Sandy piped up. That girl could never learn to keep her mouth shut even when she was in a bad situation. And of course, Mr. Douglas took her up on it right away: “Let me hear another word out of you, Sandra Douglas, and I can arrange to give you five more demerits for sassing back. What would sixteen demerits get this naughty girl, Myrna, do you remember from the list we drew up?”
“Yes I do, dear. I'm afraid Sandy wouldn't like it at all,” Mom answered. “It would mean first a good sound spanking with the hand on the bare bottom, and then thirty-five spanks with the hairbrush and then twenty-five with the strap. So you had better hold your tongue, Sandra, if you know what's good for you.”
“It's still not fair!” my younger sister protested, and she had a cloudy expression on her face as if she was about to cry at any moment. “I don't see why he has to want to see me spanked so much. It never happened before when Dad was around, and you know it, Mom.”.
“Just keep it up, young lady,” he was getting angrier by the minute. “This is your last warning. Anymore talk out of you, and we'll make it sixteen here and now. Would you like that, Sandra?”
“Of course I wouldn't! Would you?” she had to go and talk back to him even after being warned. I closed my eyes and groaned inside, because I just knew that she was in for it. And she certainly was. He gave her a nasty smile and then he said “All right. You seem bound and determined to get yourself really punished. So I'll accommodate you. That will make sixteen demerits, young lady. And I think that your mother and I will have to tie you, because I don't think you have the gumption to take all that spanking without trying to get away.”
“Why don't you go ahead and burn me at the stake, Mr. Douglas? You don't like me and you know you don't. And it's mutual!” There she went again opening her big flyt
rap.
He gave her a slap on the cheek and she gasped, gave him a nasty look, and then Mom grabbed her by the elbow and marched her along into the bedroom. I followed behind all three of them, and my heart was in my boots. I was sort of hoping they would have me spanked first so it could be over with, but no siree, it wasn't like that at all.
Sandy looked very pale and frightened, and Mom kept a tight grip on her elbow so she wouldn't try to run away. Mr. Douglas was just sneering with that superior, thin-lipped smile of his, as if he had been looking forward to this and planning it for years. That's exactly the way he looked!
This time, Sandy was wearing a minidress, bobby socks and loafers. As soon as we got into Mom's bedroom, Mr. Douglas said to her, “By the way, Myrna, that reminds me. I don't at all go along with the way juvenile delinquents are dressing these days. That dress of Sandra's, for instance. In my opinion, it's extremely suggestive. If she runs at school or outside to play or anything like that, she shows practically everything she has.”
“Oh my goodness,” Sandra had to go and break out again, “I wear panties under it, don't you know anything?”
For that, she got another slap which rocked her head back, and then she really did start to cry. She covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook and I heard her bawl out through her sobs, “I just wish I were dead, that's what! I hate this old house, and I wish I weren't in it anymore, that's what!”
“Just keep it up, young lady,” he was really smiling now, in all his glory, the nasty old sadist (Betsy told me that word and what it meant last March, when we were studying history and came on the name of Gilles de Rais of France).
“Dear, really, almost all the girls of Sandra's age wear clothes like this,” Mom tried to make him simmer down.
“That doesn't excuse it in the least, Myrna!” he said sharply. “And now you're arguing with me, are you? I shall have something to say to you tonight. Very well, Sandra. Remove that dress at once. Myrna, you are going to sit down on the chair and take her over your lap. This time, I shall administer the punishment.”
Then Sandy really did start to have near hysterics. She dropped her hands from her face, she stared at Mr. Douglas, her mouth went open as if she were breathing under water, and then she gasped, “Oh, no, please! You can whip me to death, if you want, but please don't let him do it, please, Mom! I don't want him to see me naked, I don't, I don't! It's not right, it isn't!”
“We have been all through this before, Sandra,” he interrupted in that cold, icy voice of his. “You know, from now on in, everytime you argue or get impertinent, you can very easily add to your collection of demerits. I should think you have enough already to satisfy you for quite some time. Your bottom is going to be extremely sore in a little while.”
Sandy turned to Mom in a sort of last-minute appeal, but it didn't do any good at all. Mom just looked back at her and said sternly, “Now you take off that dress right away and get ready, because if I have to help you, young lady, you won't like it at all.”
I stood there petrified, and I felt ever so sorry for poor Sandy. She ought to have had better sense, though, than opening up right before Mr. Douglas. That was just about the very worst thing she could have done. Even I knew that. So finally she began to take off her minidress, and she was wearing a white cotton bra and panty set under it, and just her bobbysocks and loafers. She really had a lovely figure, and I sort of envied her because she was nice and slim and sleek where I was getting very conscious of my curves.
Then Mom sat down in the straight-backed chair and said, “Come over her, young lady!”
Sandy did, and her head was bowed down, and she was twisting her fingers together and looking very nervous and scared. I certainly couldn't blame her, not with all that awful spanking in front of her — or rather, in behind her, if you know what I mean, Dear Diary!
Mom grabbed hold of the waistband of her panties with both hands and snugged them down to her knees, and in almost the same movement took hold of her waist and pulled her down across her lap. Then, to make sure Sandy wouldn't get away, she swung her right leg out from under my sister and clamped over Sandy's waives. Then she said, “Give me your hands, young land!” Sandy did, and Mom took hold of them with her left hand while she kept her right arm pressed down over the small of Sandy's back. And now everything was ready for the spanking. Mr. Douglas walked over, pulled up a footstool, and put it opposite Mom, so that he sat down facing her. Then he raised his right hand and brought it down with a noisy Smackk on the right cheek of Sandy's bare creamy bottom.
Sandy uttered a stifled squeal and wriggled a little, looking back nervously at Mom. She also pulled at her wrists, but Mom held them very tight. There was already a bright patch showing where Mr. Douglas' hand had landed on her bare tail, and it stood out against the whiteness of the rest of her bottom and back and legs.
He wasn't in any hurry. And I could tell that he was enjoying it. His face was flushed, his eyes were narrow and they had a light in them that I didn't like at all. His hand came down for the second time on the other cheek, and her hips jumped a little, and she called out, “Oww!”
Now there was another bright red splotch to balance against the first one, and now poor Sandy knew what it was going to be like to be spanked by Mr. Douglas. And besides the spanking, she had thirty-five swats with the hairbrush and twenty-five licks with the strap. If only she had been content with the demerits she had got and not try to make an issue of it!
But while I watched, that awful feeling of anticipation got stronger and stronger inside of me. Everytime Mr. Douglas' hand came down on Sandy's squirming reddening bottom, I could almost feel it land on my own bare tail, which it was going to do as soon as poor Sandy had finished with her huge quota. I even found myself counting the spanks Mr. Douglas gave Sandy, as a kind of indication of what I was to get. And I counted a good forty before he finally stopped.
It was all Mom could do to keep poor Sandy in position, even with her leg clamped over my sister's legs; each time Mr. Douglas' hand smacked down on her bare behind, Sandy bucked and jerked, trying frantically to get her wrists free from Mom's hold. She had forgotten all her sassiness, and she was beginning to plead with Mr. Douglas not to spank her anymore because it hurt so much. Her bottom was inflamed and awfully red, and when he finally stopped, she was crying very loud and just shivering over Mom's lap.
Mr. Douglas got up from the footstool and picked up the hairbrush from the top of the dresser. Then he went over to sit down on the edge of the bed, and said, “All right, Myrna, let her have a couple of minutes and then bring her over here for the hairbrush.”
“Oh please, please, Mr. Douglas, I can't stand so much, please, it hurt so!” Sandy cried, and she turned her face to look at him.
“Maybe for once you are going to learn how stupid it is to try to brazen it out with your elders, young lady,” was all he told her. And in a few minutes, though Sandy was sobbing and pleading pitifully. Mom lifted her up and then pushed her over towards Mr. Douglas. Her panties were twisted around her ankles and her loafers had been scuffed off while she was struggling over Mom's lap getting her spanking. So all she had on was her bra and her bobbysocks. Mr. Douglas was staring right at her pussy, but by this time Sandy wasn't thinking about how immodestly she was showing herself off to this awful man who had taken such a hold on our lives. She had got one hand free and was rubbing her red seat as hard as she could to try to get the burning sensation out of it, just as Mom pushed her over towards my stepfather. He pulled her down over his lap, put his left arm around her waist and then he started to spank with the hairbrush before she was even ready. “Count aloud for me, Myrna,” he told my mother. And Mom did, all thirty-five. Oh Lordie, how poor Sandy yelled and screamed and kicked and twisted, trying to get her hands back to cover up her blazing heinie! Her face was screwed up and wet with tears, and now she was really begging Mr. Douglas between spanks to let her off any more: “Oww — awwrrr! Aiii, oh, I'll be good, I'll be so good
, Oh I can't stand it any more, you're killing me. Mr. Douglas! Eeyeoww! Ouuuuuuuu — ahrrr — oh please stop, please! I'll never do it again, only let me off any more — please let me — awrrr! I'm dying, I'm dying.”
“You are not dying, young lady, you are starting to learn a very much-needed lesson,” he said grimly. He lifted the hairbrush way up in the air, kept it there a minute, and then banged it down on Sandy's naked seat. First the right cheek and then the left, starting at the tops of her hips and working down to her thighs and then up again. And when he finally had Mom count out the thirty-fifth, I didn't for the life of me see how poor Sandy was going to take another twenty-five with the strap.
But she did. Mr. Douglas gave her two minutes to get ready, and then when she kept pleading and struggling, he told Mom to tie her. It was just awful!
Mom opened the dresser drawer and took out a webbed strap with a buckle, and tied it around Sandy's wrists in front of her. Then she made her kneel down on the straight-backed chair, and took hold of Sandy's elbows as she stood behind the chair and held on tight so that Sandy had to kneel. When Sandy tried to lower her blazing red behind down to her heels to protect herself, all Mom had to do was pull her forward.
Mr. Douglas worked his black leather belt out of the loops of his pants, flicked it in the air, and then took his place at my sister's left. Then he began to apply the twenty-five.
I had to put my hands over my ears to drown out poor Sandy's shrieks and wild, babbling pleas for mercy. I was crying, too, and her bottom was so terribly red that it looked as if it was going to bleed any minute. But it didn't.
When he was finally finished, Sandy was twisting as if she had a thousand bees stinging her heinie, and it was all Mom could do to hold her down on the chair.
My Spanking Diary Page 4
