It Sure is Fun! 3
By Crimson Kid
crimsnkidck@yahoo.com
Copyright 2015 by Crimson Kid, all rights reserved
* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions
of sexual activity
involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to
view such material or
if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do
not save this
story.
* * * * *
This is a letter from one girl to the magazine "Girlish Giggles and Grins", then a response by a psychologist.
Set in the Puericil Universe.
"IT SURE IS FUN! #3" by the Crimson Kid
From the October issue of "Girlish Giggles and Grins":
"IT SURE IS FUN!" #3
Greetings,
Doctor McMichael, my name is Candy, I'm fifteen years old and you might
remember a bit about me because my stepbrother Percival (we call him
"Percy") has written to a letters column in some magazine for boys
which you sometimes are the guest editor for. Your replies to his two
letters were "spot on" according to my mother, who grew up in England
and uses some of the silly expressions from there, but I still thought
that one of us (her, myself or my sixteen-year-old sister Joanne)
should describe Percy's bare-bottom blisterings from the point of view
of the females, or one of them anyway, who spank him very often in our
household.
Mom told me that I might as well do that, if I could
find a magazine which published letters on "female-led domestic
discipline of young males," as she called it. I realized that she was
referring to "Girlish Giggles and Grins," so I tracked down a couple of
past issues and reread those two letters from "Chrissie" about her
cousin "Reddy" being strapped, paddled and brush-spanked in the nude by
her mother, big sister and aunt--I really enjoyed reading them again,
that's for sure.
In your response to Percy's second letter
printed in his boys' magazine, you told him that you were assigned him
a punishment which my older sister Joanne and I were supposed to
administer to him, sixty-four hard swats to his bare behind with the
same implements we'd used for his spankings on my birthday.
Of
course, my stepbrother had acted "just like a typical male," as Mom put
it, by hiding his copy of that magazine from us and claiming that it
had been accidentally misplaced somewhere. He didn't want us to read
the letter column with your "sentencing" of him to fanny-tannings from
each of his stepsisters (Joanne and myself), but my mother merely
borrowed a copy of it from the teenage son of one of her girlfriends.
Once all three of us lovely ladies had all read it, Mom called Percy
into the living room where we were seated, waiting for him. When he saw
the magazine being held in my mother's hands, opened to the page
including your reply to his letter, his normally "dark-complected" (as
Mom describes it) face turned almost totally white.
"Can you
explain your failure to mention being assigned this corporal correction
by Doctor McMichael?" she asked him, sounding quite strict.
"According
to her, both Candy and I are supposed to give your fully-exposed rear
end a good sound smacking, sixty-four smart stingers each," Joanne said
with a tight smile. She's much smaller than our stepbrother, who's six
feet tall and a muscular high school athlete, yet it clearly seemed as
though she was his dominant disciplinarian. "How were we supposed to do
that, my dear brother, if you neglected to tell us about your required
ass-thrashings?"
His face suddenly changed color, from pale
white to blushing pink. "Ummmm, I just thought it was...you know, only
a suggestion from her, just something to do if I...uhhhh, thought it
was necessary."
Mom shook her head. "No, Percival, that's not
correct and you're certainly intelligent enough to have understood
Doctor McMichael's meaning." Her expression was stern. "You've earned
yourself a long, hard, bare-bottom blistering from me for lying about
mislaying your magazine, plus failing to tell us about what the doctor
wrote in her response to your letter, that's in addition to the
spanking from each of your sisters."
I couldn't help giggling.
"Oh boy, does that ever sound great, it's just what our dishonest
brother deserves, bare-assed lickings from all three of us beautiful
women."
My mother sent Percy upstairs to put on his "Doctor
Denton" pajama outfit, which has cute little footies and a childish
three-button "trap door" (seat flap) covering--and uncovering, once its
been lowered--his often-spanked derriere. Joanne went out into the
kitchen, where "Percival's Behavior Chart" hangs on the wall, usually
flanked by the black leather strap and the oaken Jokari paddle (which
has small holes drilled in its striking surface) which are applied to
his naked buttcheeks during his punishment spankings, and wrote
"Serious dishonesty" under the "Offense" column and "15 demerits" next
to that under the "Penalty" column. (So not only was my naughty
stepbrother going to receive an immediate two-implement chastisement
from Mom, he'd also added forty-five strap-strokes and thirty
paddle-swats to his "behavior chart retirement" fanny-tanning from
Joanne and myself on Saturday morning.)
As my older sister
brought the leather strap and Jokari paddle into the living room after
making her entry on Percy's "behavior chart," I also arrived there
after retrieving the bottle of baby oil from the hallway bathroom
upstairs.
"Thank you, dears," Mom told us both, smiling smugly
while seated on a round-topped, plush ottoman stool, "Now please go up
to your room and await your brother's arrival."
Percy was
required to report to our shared bedroom, wearing whatever his punitive
outfit was going to be for that disciplinary session, and hand us girls
the spanking implements which we would soon be applying with enthusiasm
to his exposed plump posterior. For a "behavior chart retirement"
walloping on Saturday morning, those would be the short strap (used by
Joanne) and the heavy oakwood paddle (used by me), but in that case it
was the oversized kitchen spoon (Joanne) and the "Vermont Country
Store" wooden bath brush (myself), which were assigned by yourself,
Doctor McMichael: "We aim to please, while aiming stinging smacks at
Percy's bare behind," as my big sister had earlier told him with a grin.
"Do you have a request for us, my dear dishonest brother?" I asked him once he'd knocked on our door and been told to come in.
Since
he was wearing that deep maroon "Doctor Denton" pajama suit, Percy was
already pink-cheeked (his facial ones, that is) in spite of his
"Mediterranean complexion," as my mother describes it, yet his blush
brightened as he offered each of us the proper spanking implement while
formally requesting that we "Please escort me downstairs to the living
room, lower my rear-end trap door, baby-oil my bare-naked fanny, then
administer the discipline which I was sentenced to by Doctor
McMichael." (As always, it was really obvious that he was totally
humbled at having to ask us to lambaste his bare buns, he stammered a
whole lot while doing so, with his gaze on the floor while Joanne and I
were tittering at his boyish embarrassment.)
Given the pattern
we'd established over five weeks' worth of Saturday morning "behavior
chart retirement" chastisements, Joanne lowered our stepbrother's seat
flap, exposing his chubby nether moons to our girlish gazes, then she
slapped them sharply with her palm one dozen times, after which he was
marched downstairs ahead of us, with me walking directly behind him
while I briskly whacked his baby-naked buttocks with the solid bath
brush in my right hand. Boy, did Percy ever squeal and squirm as I
heated up his hapless hiney, yet the true "domestic discipline" hadn't
even started!
After being required to ask Mom to "Please put me
over your knee and strap my bare bottom very long and extra-hard,
ma'am," her naughty stepson, who was "trembling like a leaf" (her
expression), lowered himself into the proper across-her-lap position
for a good leathering. Then I took the bottle of baby oil, poured a
large dollop of it onto my palm and rubbed it onto Percy's quivering,
naked buttcheeks--they were glistening brightly by the time I was
finally finished. After putting the bottle aside, I kneeled behind his
legs and grabbed his ankles in my hands, pushing his feet to the
floor's carpeting, giving me a straight-on view of his nicely-toned
asscheeks. Joanne took her position by kneeling in front of our
stepbrother, then grasped his elbows with her hands and looked directly
into his face, which like his precious rear had a pretty pinkish glow.
My
mother surprised me by announcing a stroke number, "Ninety-six with the
strap," which she generally didn't do except during Percy's Saturday
morning wallopings, but then she added, "silent count," meaning that he
still wouldn't be able to figure out when that part of his punishment
was close to ending, since he'd earlier told Joanne and myself that he
couldn't keep track of the swats once he'd started crying.
Mom
is my role model in life--many of my girlfriends don't get along all
that well with their mothers, so they act surprised when I tell them
how much I admire mine. She's as tall (six feet even) as Percy,
drop-dead gorgeous--like Joanne and myself, she has what she calls
"Nordic features"--and very athletic, since she plays in a women's
doubles tennis league twice a week and jogs three miles on most other
days. However, even though she has well-toned muscles, Mom is also
fully feminine--my stepbrother calls her a "buxom Earth goddess," and I
have to agree with him on that point.
Anyway, my mother
administered a totally awesome leathering smack on top of Percy's
openly-exposed asscheeks, cracking that wicked short strap of hers
across his tender underbuns over and over again, covering "the bottom
of his bare bottom" (as she often refers to the "sit spots" just above
his thigh folds) with shining bands of brilliant magenta (that's
purplish-red) coloration--boy oh boy, did his chubby cheekies look
cute, not to mention that they must of been "blazing like a bonfire,"
to use one of Joanne's expressions, based on how childishly he was
crying for almost that entire severe strapping. He's a solidly-built,
muscular seventeen-year-old boy, but Mom gave him a flap-down,
across-her-lap licking just like he was a naughty kindergartener, and
she made him blubber like a well-spanked five-year-old too.
Our
sobbing young man was allowed a few minutes to "compose yourself, Percy
darling, and stop bawling like a baby," as his stepmother told him,
while she gently rubbed his back with her left hand and I massaged
another handful of baby oil onto the skin of his twitching buttcheeks,
feeling exactly how heated up they were--man oh man, they must have
been stinging like the very devil herself! (In our family, both God and
her rival are considered to be feminine.)
Then my mother and
sister switched places, so that Percy, still sniffling, had to stand up
for a moment and then lower himself back down, bending himself over
Joanne's knee, after which Mom kneeled to grip his elbows while I took
hold of his ankles again. "Silent count, sixty-four swats, as stated by
Doctor McMichael," she announced, her voice sounding determined in
spite of coming from a rather petite (yet also extremely attractive)
body, then she immediately began smacking his bare behind with that
cooking spoon's flattened-out back.
It's really obvious that
my sister is attracted to our stepbrother--she had a crush on him three
years ago at school, even before his father was dating our mother, and
she's reminded me that "We're not biologically related to Percy," quite
a few times. Still, she seriously wallops his naked fanny each and
every time that he's being spanked by her, it's almost as though she's
focusing her romantic feelings for him into hurting his hiney as much
as she possibly can. That time was hardly different, since her wide,
sky blue eyes were sparkling while she was using sharp wrist-snaps
(from the one sport she plays a whole lot of, table tennis) with the
oaken spoon to deliver a steady tattoo directly upon Percy's
already-sore plump underbuns, leaving him "wailing like a
shameless child" (to quote Mom's description of his reactions) during
his chastisement across her thighs.
Surprising to my sister and
myself, our mother took a cell phone photograph of our stepbrother,
from a angled position which showed his tearstained face and his
glowing magenta rear end, just as Joanne's oversized cooking spoon was
impacting against it near the end of his spanking from her. Usually Mom
wouldn't allow any pictures of Percy's punishments to be taken, but she
also took one of his fiery-looking fanny while he was serving his
fifteen-minute cornertime session.
After that was up, by which
time he'd finally stopped sniffling, she put him over her knee again,
then had me apply another coating of baby oil to his bright crimson
"southern hemispheres," as she teasingly called his chubby cheekies in
the rear, which had cooled off just a touch. With me in the front
kneeling position, gripping Percy's elbows while Joanne took over "at
the stern" (another motherly expression) to hold down his ankles, Mom
really went to work on his poor unprotected posterior with her Jokari
paddle, to the tune of "Sixty-four more stingers, silent count," for
that part of his punishment.
Boy, did she ever paddywhack him
with "extreme prejudice," to use more of her spanking-style
terminology, much to my amusement as I watched the teardrops resume
flowing down his bright pink face. Those pistol-shot cracks of that
thick fanny-whacker even hurt my ears a bit, so I can only imagine how
much they must have scorched Percy's bare bottom, connecting to his
oh-so-sensitive "sit spots" as he howled loudly--which likewise didn't
do my ears any favors. His whimpering afterward, while my mother fondly
rubbed his back as I massaged still another dollup of baby oil onto the
wonderfully warm (from my point of view anyway) surface of his ravaged
rump, that was much more tolerable to me.
"I'm sure that your
walloped hiney is hurtin' for certain," Joanne said to our stepbrother
as he tried to control his breathing, "But you brought Mom's discipline
on yourself through your dishonesty, Percy. I truly hope that you're
learning a good lesson from the punishments you've earned by
withholding information from us. We're now a family, so we have to be
able to trust one another."
"You're right, Joanne, I'm very sorry," he replied, but he blubbered it so that I had to listen carefully to understand him.
His
stepmother helped our sobbing boy climb to his feet, then she and I
exchanged positions and a moment later he was bent across my thighs
with his hot-looking derriere sticking up and out, giving me a
near-perfect target to plaster with the sturdy bath brush which my
right hand was raising. "Your final sixty-four swats based on what
Doctor McMichael decided, Percy dear, I'm going to make them as
memorable as I can."
This column is titled "It Sure Is Fun!",
yet however--as Mom has explained to both Joanne and me--corporally
correcting a deserving male is much more than simply enjoyable, it's
also what she calls "empowering," a demonstration of the natural
feminine role as disciplinarian in relation to the masculine one as a
person needing to be soundly chastised on a regular basis. As I cracked
that spanking brush's flat back against the base of Percy's childishly
exposed asscheeks, alternating smacks from one wriggling buttock round
to another while he wept and wailed, my awareness--that I was helping
maintain his role as a person subject to corporal punishment within our
household--filled me with such sweet satisfaction.
My mother
took a third cell phone shot, showing the oaken brush connecting
forcefully to its bouncy target behind her stepson's tear-streaked
face, plus still another one which featured him doing his second
session of flap-down cornertime after I'd delivered his fourth
bare-bottom blistering of the day. The final photo was taken by Percy,
at Mom's request, a frontal picture of all three of us disciplinary
ladies, holding the four punitive had implements which we'd each
recently applied to his stinging-hot rear end.
(At supper that
evening, she explained that the five shots had been sent to you, Doctor
McMichael, using the personal e-mail address shown in this magazine,
then deleted from her phone--she figured that you had the right to see
that your assignment had been carried out by my older sister and
myself. She got this idea from reading a letter in an issue of the
boys' magazine which you guest edit once in a while.)
Of course,
at bedtime Joanne went to Percy's bedroom to rub soothing aloe lotion
onto his sore, smarting seat, something that she does for him every
time he gets his derriere spanked. She really would like to give him a
sweet, passionate kiss, rather than the sisterly pecks on his cheek
that he usually gets from both of us, but the shy girl hasn't gotten up
the nerve to do that yet.
Anyway, Doctor McMichael, now you have
the "narrative" (my mother's word) to go along with the photographs Mom
sent to you--they're for your eyes only, of course, but I'm hoping that
you'll see fit to print this letter in the "It Sure Is Fun!" column.
Being a girl who spanks in my new "blended family," it sure is fun!
Yours in spanking sisterhood,
Candy
----
[Doctor McMichael's Response:
This
is a very good letter, especially via its describing precisely how
Percival was corporally corrected by your mother, older sister (Joanne)
and yourself, and also your personal reaction to both witnessing and
directly participating in his punishment. I've read (and responded to)
a couple of his letters in the male-oriented magazine he reads, so I
found it quite enlightening to be exposed to your perspective as one of
his feminine disciplinarians.
Your stepbrother strikes me as
being a good person overall, partially due to your mother's strong
commitment to keeping his male ego under strict control, yet his
general positive behavior shouldn't--and fortunately didn't, in this
case--protect his bare bottom from any serious retribution that he's
earned via misconduct. I'm very pleased that Percival was very soundly
chastised for his dishonesty, even though it was passive (withholding
information) rather than active (outright lying) in nature.
If
he had simply passed on my decision regarding his deserved retribution,
showing his stepmother my reply to his second published letter, the
young man would still have been spanked on his naked buttocks
(sixty-four swats each) by Joanne and yourself, but there would have
been no strapping and paddling over your mother's knee as well. (I was
impressed by the 'intermixing' of the two corporal correction sessions,
since they were clearly interrelated in terms of cause and effect.)
Also, his "behavior chart" offense added those forty-five strap-strokes
(courtesy of Joanne) and thirty paddle-swats (from yourself) to his
Saturday morning "behavior chart retirement" disciplinary
session--that's a double-jeopardy "Ouchie!!" for sure.
It's
apparent to me that all three of you beautiful ladies truly care for
Percival, and you each understand the 'Conservative Resurgence' concept
that boys (and even males in general, I'd opine) are to be very soundly
disciplined, via ass-thrashing corporal punishment which is accompanied
by extreme embarrassment, not "in spite of" their womenfolk's loving
affection for them, but rather "because of" it. Your stepbrother has
clearly developed into a much more considerate member of your household
since the introduction of his bare-bottomed spanking regimen, so please
keep it up--it is indeed for his own long-term good (to mention one
classic fanny-whacking cliche'), although it's clear that it hurts his
naked hiney a great deal while his chastisers contrawise are gratified
at their administering roles in it (thereby contradicting another such
cliche').
My advice to Joanne would be to enjoy the emotional
closeness which comes from her post-punitive 'nursing' of her
stepbrother (massaging aloe cream onto his sore seat at bedtime), but
to hold back on any romantic interaction until both of them are adults.
There's no biological reason for stepsiblings to avoid such a
relationship, but there still exist social conventions which could
result in an awkward family situation.
Finally, thank your
mother for the photographs which she e-mailed me, which of course will
be treated as strictly confidential by myself. Percival is extremely
fortunate to live in a household with three highly attractive females,
ones who are deeply fond of him and thus blister his bare behind very
thoroughly whenever he deserves such discipline. He's quite a handsome,
solidly-built young man, yet he paradoxically looks so much like a
naughty, well-spanked kindergartener with his facial cheeks blushing as
teardrops flow down them, while his nether moons evince such a deep
maroon glow, almost matching the color of his childishly cute,
flap-down 'Doctor Denton' PJ outfit.
His exposed posterior
certainly must have been sizzling and throbbing at the time, yet
masculine rear ends are designed by the Sacred Feminine to absorb a
very high degree of corporal correction without any permanent damage.
As long as you ladies treat him affectionately afterward, Percival will
eventually embrace the strict spanking regimen which he's subjected to
by all three of you, I'm confident of that. To quote a bit of excellent
advice for mothers and sisters (plus sometimes even daughters, I'd
suggest), "Show him that you really care, spank him soundly, bottom
bare!"
Keep up the great work, Candy--happy paddywhacking!
Yours in spanking sisterhood,
Almeda McMichael]
(The End)