The Spanking of Teenage Daughters - Book Two

by Grace Brackenridge

  In Addison's bedroom, her uncle sat at the edge of her bed and Addison voluntarily draped herself over her uncle's lap, placing her palms flat on the floor. Efficiently, Uncle Paul flipped up her skirt and pulled down her panties below the curve of her plump buns.

  "I only use my hands," explained the doctor. "Nothing abusive or dangerous. Just an intense sensation..."

  Wow! As her uncle's palm went to work, I could see and hear the impact it had on my friend's bottom and disposition. Addison cried long and hard, but her uncle continued to spank.

  When is he going to stop? I wondered.

  The answer, it seems, came only after a long, soulful journey for my poor friend and her very spanked bottom.

  Uncle Paul helped Addison to her feet as soon as he was finished, gave her a perfunctory hug, and left us alone. Addison lay down on her bed and sobbed. By the time she regained her composure, we could hear Mikayla start to howl through closed doors down the hall.

  Addison and I chatted about school and stuff like that, trying to ignore the wails from Mikayla down the hall. At long last, Mikayla's spanking ended too.

  I excused myself and went downstairs, where I found Mrs. MacCormick reading a magazine.

  "How was it?" she asked me cheerily.

  "Intense!" I replied, and she laughed.

  "I'm afraid that's the way it has to be," she said, shaking her head. "It seems cruel, I know. But it's something that the girls have to go through."

  "How do you know if you have the S-gene?" I asked.

  "Oh, that's pretty easy," she replied, setting her magazine aside. "Do you ever have murderous thoughts a couple of weeks before your period?"

  I nodded.

  "Have you ever acted on those feelings?"

  "Well, one time I got so mad at Mom, I wanted to suffocate her. Mrs. MacCormick, you have to promise not to tell."

  She nodded. "I promise."

  "I actually stood outside my Mom's bedroom door after she went to sleep. I had a big pillow in my hand and, several times, I reached out and turned the knob a little. But I never went in."

  "Sounds like you might have the S-gene, Gracie," said Mrs. MacCormick authoritatively. "How long till your period?"

  I did the math in my head. "Ten days, more or less."

  "What are you girls talking about?" said Uncle Paul as he descended the stairs and flopped down on the couch.

  "I think we have another customer, Paul," said Mrs. MacCormick. "Gracie seems to have it, too."

  "Really?"

  Mrs. MacCormick relayed my story to her brother.

  "Is your mother okay with this?" he asked.

  "Oh sure!" I replied. "I still get it all the time."

  "Well, I'd still like a note from your mom," he said, "saying it's okay."

  "Sure, I understand."

  "But one little treatment can't do any harm, Paul," interjected his sister. "Don't be such a stickler for details."

  "No, one little spanking can't do any harm," he agreed. "Come here, Gracie."

  With professional dispatch, Uncle Paul had me over his lap on the couch, my panties down.

  "Just try to relax," he counseled.

  Then he proceeded to give me the spanking of my life!

  By the time Uncle Paul completed my treatment, both Addison and Mikayla had drifted downstairs to watch.

  I admit it. I cried for a long, long time.

  When I finally recovered, Uncle Paul said he had to leave and offered me a ride.

  "My mom's home," I said when Uncle Paul pulled up to the curb.

  "See you tomorrow night," he said. "Don't forget the note."

  I greeted mom with a big hug, but told her I was tired. I excused myself and went to bed.

  The next morning over breakfast, I casually mentioned, "Addison MacCormick and I are doing an experiment in biology. We're using a bacterium in the Petrie dish to see if we can get a bug called the S-gene to multiply. Her uncle is helping us, but he wants to make sure it's okay with you."

  "Sure," replied mother. "I'll write you a note on my letterhead."

  "No!" I replied, perhaps too harshly. "I mean, I already wrote a note for you. All you have to do is sign."

  I slid the plain paper note across the table. I watched as Mom read: "Dear Dr. Handle: I authorize you to help my daughter, Grace Brackenridge, with the S-gene. She has explained the procedures to me and I agree. Leona Brackenridge."

  "So, tell me about the procedures," said Mom as she signed.

  I made up a bunch of scientific sounding stuff.

  "You know, it won't take me but a moment to put all this on my letterhead," volunteered Mom again.

  "Oh that's okay," I said, as Mom stood and began scraping the breakfast dishes into the garbage disposal.

  I looked across the table where some of Mom's memos from work rested in a pile, waiting for her to put them in her briefcase.

  'PTAVE - Parents and Teachers Against Violence in Education' said the words across the top of each sheet.

  I shook my head. No way would Uncle Paul believe a permission note from my mom, knowing she was the executive director of the famous anti-spanking group. That would have to remain my little secret.

  Mom Doesn't Object

  "Well," says Erica's stepdad, "what's it gonna be, girls? No more video games? Or a good, hard spanking?"

  Fifteen-year-old Erica Rogers doesn't hesitate for a second. "Spank me, Daddy."

  "I better check with my mom first," says 14-year-old Polly Petersen. "But I definitely want the spanking option, Mr. Rogers."

  Newly arrived in Centerville, Polly is Erica's overnight guest.

  ---oOo---

  Downstairs in the living room, Eleanor Rogers tells Polly. "You can use the phone over there."

  With Erica at her side, Polly dials.

  The phone rings several times. Polly hears her mother's voice.

  "Mom, please, just hear me out. Erica and I are playing video games over here. We got excited. We said the F-word. We didn't know Mr. Rogers was walking by Erica's bedroom. Anyway, Mr. Rogers is going to spank Erica. I wanna a spanking, too."

  Polly sighs. "Look, I know you guys stopped spankings when I turned 12. But things are different here in Centerville. So can Mr. Rogers spank me? Please?"

  Polly's mother replies to Polly's request with stony silence.

  "Okay, since you don't object, I'm taking the spanking from Mr. Rogers. Bye."

  Hanging up, Erica turns to Mrs. Rogers. "Mom doesn't object."

  Eleanor nods and smiles. "Your mother probably realizes that teenage girls need spankings every bit as much as preteen girls."

  "Come on!" says Erica excitedly. "Let's go get spanked so we can get back to our video games."

  As the climb the stairs, Polly asks, "How does your stepdad spank exactly? Not that it makes any difference to me. Just curious."

  "Oh, the standard kind," replies Erica. "You go over his lap. He pulls your panties down in back. I've got my own 'Heat for the Seat' paddle. I'll let you borrow it."

  "Thanks!"

  The girls close Erica's bedroom door.

  ---oOo---

  Downstairs, Eleanor goes back to reading an interesting article in Modern Christian Parenting.

  The phone rings.

  She picks up the receiver.

  "Hello," says a voice on the line. "This is Patricia Petersen. I'm Polly's mother."

  "Yes, hello. This is Eleanor Rogers. How are you?"

  "A bit puzzled. I was in the bathtub when the phone rang. Polly left me a very disturbing message. Something about a spanking?"

  "Yes, Edmond has the girls upstairs as we speak. The spankings are about to get underway."

  "The thing is, we didn't stop spanking Polly just because she turned 12 a few years back. We stopped because of all the studies showing the harmful effects of spankings."

  "Funny you should mention that," says Eleanor. "I'm just reading an article in Modern Christian Parenting that shows that spanked children are happier
and more successful than the un-spanked kind."

  "Well," exclaims Polly's mother, "that's a longer conversation. I'm worried that while we chat, my Polly will end up getting spanked without my approval."

  "Edmond hasn't started yet," replies Eleanor. "I'll go upstairs and tell him not to spank Polly. But I do think that there should be some consequences. I sat here while Polly was on the phone. She made us believe that she was actually talking to you. She lied to us."

  "Yes, I agree. I'll have a word with Polly. But please! Go stop the spanking!"

  "Okay, I'll call you back. Let me get something to write on... Okay, what's your number?"

  "It's 555-1927. Please! Hurry!"

  "Okay, I'll do what I can. Goodbye." Eleanor hangs up.

  On the pad of paper next to the number, Eleanor carefully writes, "Patricia Petersen."

  Then she climbs the stairs.

  As she reaches for her daughter's doorknob, a familiar sound emanates from the other side...

  WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

  "Wha-aaa-aah-ahh-hhh-hhH-hHH-HHH!"

  Eleanor opens the door.

  Sitting on Erica's bed, Edmond applies the paddle to bare skin.

  But the bare skin receiving the brunt of the paddle doesn't belong to Erica, his stepdaughter.

  No, the bottom turning a bright red before Eleanor's eyes belongs to her daughter's new friend.

  Polly Petersen apparently wanted to go first - before her mother called back with her objections.

  Erica stands with her back to the door, absently rubbing her own bottom in anticipation as she watches her new friend's painful demise.

  Eleanor leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms.

  She watches Polly endure a dozen strokes...

  Two dozen strokes...

  Three dozen strokes...

  Only when Edmond puts aside Erica's "Heat for the Seat" paddle does Eleanor close the door.

  ---oOo---

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Patricia, it's Eleanor. Look, I've got some good news and some bad news."

  "What's the bad news?"

  "I got upstairs too late. Edmond had already started Polly's spanking."

  "Did you tell him to stop?"

  "In the middle of a spanking? Heaven's no! The only think worse than stopping a spanking prematurely is no spankings at all."

  "Well," says Patricia with a sigh, "what's the good news?"

  "I don't think you have to worry about Polly using the F-word anymore. I think Edmond's spanking made a very big impression on Polly."

  Patricia sighs. "Well, I guess what's done is done."

  "Fortunately or unfortunately," Eleanor commiserates, "neither of us can un-spank Polly."

  "I guess one spanking won't scar her for life," replies Polly's mother with another sigh. "I wonder why Polly went to such lengths to get herself spanked like that?"

  "In Centerville," Eleanor assures the new arrival, "most teenage girls still get their spankings. Polly may be trying to fit into a community with more open attitudes about spanking teenage girls. If you want, I'll have a word with Polly about her little deception."

  "I guess that's all we can do," sighs Patricia. "Thanks for calling back. Bye."

  ---oOo---

  As Eleanor opens her daughter's bedroom door, Edmond is just about finished with Erica's spanking.

  With her back to the door, Polly weeps as she rubs her bottom - panties still down - totally transfixed by Erica's sad sojourn.

  Eleanor taps Polly on the shoulder.

  Polly turns her red, puffy face to her overnight hostess. "Yes, Mrs. Rogers?"

  "Come with me, honey."

  In the hallway, Eleanor explains. "Polly, I need to have a word with you. Your mother called just before your spanking got underway. By the time I got to the spanking room, Edmond already had you over his lap."

  "I'm glad you didn't make him stop, Mrs. Rogers. Erica says it's really bad to stop a spanking prematurely, once it gets underway. She read it in a magazine."

  "Yes, I'm glad I didn't interfere. But, Polly, you lied to me and Mr. Rogers. Let's step into the master bedroom."

  "Okay, but why can't you just scold me here in the hallway?"

  "Because my hairbrush is in the master bedroom."

  "Hairbrush?" sniffles Polly. "You mean..."

  Eleanor smiles and nods. "When I told your mother that I got up here too late to stop your spanking, she said one spanking won't scar you for life. Neither will two. In fact, I think two spankings is exactly what you need, young lady."

  "Yes, ma'am. It hurts me to say this. But two spankings might do me a world of good, considering the neglect at home."

  Step-Dad Spankings Are Different

  Allison Krumble and Beth Sanders lounged in Beth's bedroom, ostensibly doing their homework.

  But since this was Friday afternoon, they had till Sunday to finish. Besides, they had more pressing worries. Both had received unsatisfactory Weekly Progress Reports from their magnet middle school.

  "I don't know what Mom will do," said 13-year-old Allison glumly, looking at her report. "Probably ground me for the whole weekend."

  "What about your step-dad?" asked Beth. "What will he do?"

  "Frank?" laughed Allison. "Mom only married him last summer. Why would he have anything to say about it?"

  "Well, Alex is REALLY involved in my progress reports," said Beth, referring to her new step-dad. "Can I tell you something kind of personal?"

  Allison shrugged. "Sure. What?"

  "Remember two weeks ago? When I got that really bad progress report?"

  "Yeah, you never told me what happened."

  "Alex spanked me. Right on the bare butt."

  "Really? Oh my God! Is he gonna do the same thing this time?"

  Beth nodded. "Probably."

  "I am SO sorry, Beth!" said her concerned classmate. "That must be horrible!"

  "Well, Alex spanks harder than Mom. But in a way, I'd rather get it from Alex. He doesn't get mad. In fact, I'd rather get spanked by Alex than Mom or my real dad."

  "Why?"

  "Like I said," Beth explained, "Alex is calm as a cucumber. He tells me why he's spanking, he spanks, and then we go over the reasons why one more time. Then it's never mentioned again. I kinda like that."

  "I never even considered what it would be like for Frank to spank me," Allison replied thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I want to find out."

  "I got an idea!" said Beth, snapping her fingers. "Call your mom and ask her if Alex can spank you, too. You can find out what it's like to be spanked by a step-dad. You don't want to be grounded all weekend, do you?"

  "No," Allison agreed reluctantly, "but still..."

  "Come on! It will be fun. Okay, maybe not fun exactly. But how long has it been since you got spanked with company?"

  "I can't remember. You say it's on the bare?"

  "Well, of course. Don't you get spanked that way?"

  "Sure!" said Allison. "Doesn't everybody? But that's with my mom and dad. Don't you feel squicky when your step-dad pulls your panties down?"

  "Not at all! Look, you lie down over the lap. The panties are pulled down last. Right after the spanking, they go right back up again. You'll be so focused on the spanking, you won't even think about the bare bottom part."

  "I don't know," replied Allison hesitantly.

  "You don't want to be grounded all weekend, do you?" her friend persisted.

  "I guess not."

  Beth handed Allison her cell phone. "Call your mom."

  ---oOo---

  Alex Sanders reviewed the progress reports with the two 13-year-olds.

  The girls admitted that they had not studied enough. Each outlined how she would change their study behavior for the following week.

  "You talked to your mother about this?" Mr. Sanders asked Allison.

  "Yes," replied Beth on behalf of her subdued friend. "Allison called her mom. It's okay."

  "Who wants to go first?" asked the stepfather.<
br />
  "I should go first, Dad," said Beth. "So Allison can see how we spank around here."

  Allison could see that Beth was right about the spanking style of step-dads.

  Mr. Sanders calmly guided his stepdaughter over his lap. With Beth's skirt up, he pulled down his stepdaughter's panties just before the first stroke of the hairbrush.

  Yes, Mr. Sanders was a hard spanker, Allison realized. But he didn't seem the least bit angry.

  After 25 or 30 rapid strokes, Mr. Sanders put the brush aside and let Beth cry. When her emotions became more manageable, Beth stood before her step-dad, sniffling and rubbing her butt through the skirt, while Mr. Sanders went over the reasons for the spanking and how Beth could avoid another one next Friday.

  "Ready?" said Mr. Sanders to Allison.

  Quickly, before she lost her nerve, Allison lay down. Up went her skirt. Allison was so concerned about her impending spanking that she hardly noticed the tugging down of her panties.

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  Beth stood rubbing her buns while Allison received her first-ever stepfather spanking.

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  The cell phone rang.

  Beth answered with a weepy sniffle, "Hello?"

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  "Gosh, Mrs. Krumble, it's sorta too late.

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  ---oOo---

  Allison and Beth rubbed their bottoms while Mr. sanders spoke into the phone. Allison was still weeping, because she had just gotten up from Mr. Sanders' lap.

  "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," said Mr. Sanders. "After I finished Allison's spanking, Beth told me you had called."

  He looked sharply at his stepdaughter. "Yes, my daughter said that Allison had called you. What they didn't mention was that they had only left voice mail. I got the impression that Allison had your permission."

  He listened. "Thank you for understanding. I would never have spanked your daughter if I had known. I know girls will lie to get out of a spanking. This is the first time I've ever heard of girls lying in order to get into a spanking."

  Mr. Sanders paused and then smiled. "Well, thanks for your support, even if it is after the fact."